Somewhere Out There: Touches of Remembrance
I awoke to the sun shining in my eyes, the golden light peacefully breaking the early morning gloom. Stretching, I hopped out of bed, glaring at the sunrays filtering through the glass. They seemed to shrink back a little under my gaze, making me a bit happier about the situation, but I still could have used the extra hour of dreamless sleep. It was times like these when I wished I could brew at least a simple potion such as that. Sleep was one of those things a body needed desperately to function, and I couldn't afford to shut down, at least not now. I had obligations other than my own to fulfill, my Gryffindor stubbornness not about to let me quit when the going got tough. However, right now, I needed a good, hot shower and a toothbrush. I picked out my clothes for the day, setting them on the bedspread next to the pale yellow kitten, still sleeping in the morning light, and then walked to the bathroom.
When I emerged, I immediately noticed that Lynx had forgotten about the litter box, this time using the entire kitchen floor to pee instead. The smell had carried into the bathroom as I finished my shower and was tying back my unruly waves. I bolted to the kitchen, quickly cleaning up what of the mess I could, but not before splashing cat urine onto my shoes. I cursed as I considered what a perfect day this seemed to beginning to be already. Crossing my fingers, I hoped it improved as I went to work for my first full day, eager to learn and much more eager for the paycheck to come. Closing the door behind me, I quickly looked up at the sky before I left. Sun glared down into my eyes for a moment before I looked away. I guessed that "bright and cheerful" was the forecast for the next eight hours of my life, or so I hoped.
When I got to work, the lot was completely full of cars and every pump was filled. I took a deep breath, walking in the door quickly, dashing behind the counter to the office. For the second time in a week, I landed flat on my backside, staring up at a much taller man. This time, however, it wasn't Sullivan that pulled me up to stand, but a much rounder, younger man whose nametag said "Dustin." He was smirking at me, biting his lip to keep from laughing at me. I blushed furiously, clutching my small bag in my hands tightly while looking at the floor.
"You must be Nell."
Nodding my head frantically, I brushed myself off. "I didn't want to be late," I mumbled.
He laughed, a short barking laugh that caught me off guard, startling me. Giving me an odd look, he pushed me forward towards the open register, my nametag clutched in his hand. He gave it to me, motioning for me to put it on, before asking me another question.
"Have you ever worked in retail before?"
Shaking my head, I replied, "No, but it's not too difficult, right?" I was hopeful that it would be easy to learn and master something so simple.
The smile appeared again, a little less crooked this time. "We'll see how you do at the end of the night. Look sharp and be confident. Don't let anything stress you out. Be prepared for anything. I'll show you how to sign in."
After he led me through a few basic transactions, he worked on the other register while I ran, very slowly, on my register. Even though he'd told me to stay calm, I quickly noticed people are impatient and feel as if they have the right to take their bad day out of the person behind the register. I had people repeat things to me; something many of them thought was completely unnecessary, even though I did not understand what they said half of the time. Sure, I knew English, but what they were saying did not sound like English at all. By the end of an hour, I was frustrated and had a massive headache…and I still had seven more to go.
Dustin noticed and went into the office for a minute or two, disappearing from sight at this point, leaving me to the mercy of humanity. I heard a rustle as an older man with dark hair came to the counter with a coffee cup and…bananas? My eyes widened, praying for a barcode stamped into the side of one of these bananas, but that would only be wishful thinking. I called for Dustin, but no sound answered at all. I bit my lip hard out of nervousness, bruising it and wincing at the pain, yet I couldn't move. This was the perfect time for my mind to go completely blank, I thought to myself, as I looked at the older gentleman standing there.
"There should be a banana button on the register somewhere, ma'am," he motioned with a slightly unsteady hand.
I searched and searched until I found it, a gray patterned button with the word "Banana" barely visible. I pressed it and the register beeped, registering "Amount Too Small." More confused than when I started, I looked back at the older gentleman who merely smiled and pointed to the bananas. I looked at the banana rack, noticing a sign above them reading "49 cents per pound." My eyebrows went up as I looked at the bananas, attempting to judge their weight by looking at them and bit my lip again. A small laugh made me look up.
"I think you weigh them first. There is a scale somewhere," he spoke in his thick accent, rolling his r's quite a bit.
Looking around frantically, I noticed a shimmer from the bright lights in the background, grabbing his bananas and darting for it. It was indeed a scale, buried under a small mountain of expired Gardetto snack bags and one bunch of rotten bananas. I wrinkled my nose, threw those out, and tossed the older man's on the scale. When I got back, I tried entering the price and then the button; to my relief, it worked. After that, the transaction was easy and simple, and as I smiled at him again when he went to leave, he spoke.
"I know it is hard being new. You feel very lost. You will find everything in time, but it will take time. Much time for you, I think."
Puzzled at his cryptic statement, I ignored it as I moved to the next customer. I didn't have time to think about it then and hoped I wouldn't have time to think about it later. When I did think about it, hours later, I leaned on the countertop, gazing out into the empty lot that was golden-tinted with the descending sun. I did feel lost in a small town, much unlike my native Britain, which I knew nothing about. I knew nothing about these people, about my fellow co-workers, even about the people whose names I did know. This place, this modern-day marvel of a gas station in this homespun town, was not natural to them. It was a product of the modern day, something this town had trouble believing in. I had a sickening feeling that they were well aware that I was different. Before long, someone would start asking questions…questions that I wouldn't want to answer. I just hope I had some time to adjust before then.
It took me a while to get used to the ebb and flow of the system. A week passed as if it were hours, the constant flow of customers to my register keeping me well-occupied. I could recognize a few of the regulars, identify most of the cigarette brands, and remember most of the shortcut buttons. I was still nervous, Dustin had reminded me of that, and stressed out, but overall, I was improving. I had a solid schedule of eight hours the first week, but now my hours fluctuated a bit. Dustin had claimed it was preparing me for anything, yet I didn't trust him.
I did not trust any of my coworkers. Establishing bonds with these people seemed to alienate myself even more from the magical world, one that while I was no longer a part of it, I held close to my heart. The excitement, yet monotony of this place kept me on my toes, forcing me to think quickly, be prepared, and let go a little. The silence I had learned during the war was invaluable against the tide of rude, harried bits of humanity that entered our doors on a daily basis. It was also disconcerting because I cared about these people. I wanted these little moments to push them towards accepting me into their world. It was all about what I could gain from this arrangement…which I considered was very Slytherin of me.
For the very first time in my life, I considered if the Sorting Hat had placed me right. Would I still be here today if the Hat had placed me in Hufflepuff where my Muggleborn status would have made no difference to those sitting under the badger's banner? Could I have taken the intellectual challenge and dedication to my studies as the many Ravenclaws did and been as silent during the war? Could I have held my own in a power-hungry house of snakes that watched my every Mudblood move? Why was I a Gryffindor to begin with?
Sure, I was smart, determined, and most certainly sought to achieve with my ambitious nature, but those aligned me with other houses, such as Slytherin. I was dedicated to my friends, my studies, and my growth in learning, but these were Ravenclaw traits, the lot of them. I craved the power of knowledge and of intellect, not the bravery and honor for which Gryffindor had been made. Yes, I will admit I have the sharp tongue and rashness of a Gryffindor at times…well, most of the time.
It held me confused, torn between the truths in the Sorting Hat to the errors of the human mind. Humans, wizards, had made the Hat and imbued it with its power to choose between the four. They made it to be a necessity to prune their chosen wizards to their specific talents. The Hat, now lost in the Wizarding World, was a very powerful item, knowingly deciding the destiny of whatever child's head on which it would sit. It was old, wise, and had seen more than its share of troubled times, but still it Sorted, as it was meant to do when it was created. Human error had created the disasters of the Wizarding World today, qualities aside or not. It was a devastating blow to finally realize the manipulation of humans, even subconsciously, that was committed by the very wizards the hearts of Hogwarts held dear.
Out of habit, I clutched my chest, feeling for the ring that lay there buried under the layers of clothing that I wore. It was my last link to the world in which I grew up and flourished, but I remembered at the last second I had left it in the box, leaving it on the bedside table nearly a week ago. It was not a reality anymore, just a memory and a remembrance of something that could have been, but was never to be. Still, I vowed to get it out of the box and wear it, to be strong and courageous, a reminder that the little Gryffindor fire, whether it was placed there out of deception or choice, was never to die.
Those thoughts made me smile until I was nudged back to reality by…a coffee cup? Focusing on the dark liquid and the slight whisper of steam forced my eyes up into the drawn face of Sullivan. An arched eyebrow at my awkward expression allowed me to shake the cobwebs clear and nervously ring him up. It embarrassed me that he had caught me daydreaming, especially since I hadn't seen him enter the store or even hear the bell ring, and my fingers shook a little as they hovered above the keys on the register. My brain went blank yet again as I looked down at the many-colored keys, again biting my lip in concentration. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lip as his posture relaxed a little, the stiffness of formality ebbing away slowly.
"314. If that helps any," he said in a low tone, slight fatigue etched onto his face.
Smiling, I looked up at him again, a piece of my hair falling in my face when I spoke. "No, actually, that is what I needed to know," I remarked as I pressed the proper keys, took his money, and gave him his change. "Have a nice day?"
With a sharp nod, he turned on his heel, quickly striding away through the door and into the little black car parked in front of the building. My confused look threw Sadie into laughter when she returned, watching the car with Sullivan inside drive away, throwing a quick, unnoticed wave towards the car.
"You look as if you certainly did something stupid right there, even though ya didn't. Sullivan's always been a bit…untalkative. I'd swear the man was born that way."
"I just told him to 'Have a nice day'! How was I supposed to know he would have gotten offended at a simple goodbye?" Exasperated, I threw up my hands, grabbing down a few racks of coffee cups, intent on stocking them and stewing on his abrupt and very rude departure. As I forcefully stocked the cups, I felt my anger flow away and confusion replace it. Usually customers responded to that question with gusto, spewing out meaningless words of thanks or cursing me for being slow and incompetent. Sullivan had just left without a grunt or anything. A blessing and a curse in itself, I guessed, as my motions slowed to a more noticeably relaxed pace.
"He gets offended at lots of things. One thing that man is not free of is pet peeves. This area, for example," she stated, pointing to the urns and dairy station of the coffee section from her register, "has to be completely clean or he'll ask for a towel to wipe it himself before preparing his daily coffee. Usually he comes in more than once a day, but he's been in more in the mornings now. You'll notice him after a while and get used to what he wants…just like any other customer."
I wrinkled my nose a bit, instinctively knowing there was more to this man than meets the eye, but I didn't argue. Sadie had been working for longer than I had, knowing a bit more about the patterns of these people and their lives. It interested me in a way, the lives of these people and how they intertwined. At school, I hadn't really thought about why certain people interacted with others or the qualities of the relationships each person had with the other. Here, working in the closest thing to a convenience store, we saw people, their friends, and their habits from a different point of view. Intriguing as it was, sometimes it was also painful to watch the interactions. Friends, like anyone else, fought with words that were meant to seek pain. Slightly different here than the Wizarding World, I still heard the pain, anger, and venom that some of the words portrayed. Curious about it, I asked Sadie.
"Why do all these people come here?"
Sadie looked at me with a perplexed look on her face, her bright green eye makeup glittering in the light. "What do ya mean? It's a store. We sell things that people want to buy. Why wouldn't they come here?" Again, she gave me the oddest of looks before going back to cleaning the drink stations. "You're very odd, Nell."
"I already know that," I claimed, dismissing that comment with a wave of my hand. "I want to know why they come here. Our coffee is expensive, considering it is much cheaper to buy a regular tin of it at the grocery, and nothing else is very cheap either. Most of the people that come to this store have food stamps; something that I am sure could go a lot further elsewhere than here, but they come here instead. Why?" I asked, pleading with Sadie to give me an answer.
"Have you ever considered they come here to see you, the little British lady? You've been the talk of the town, you have. Showing up in mid-afternoon with Mick, who is a respected citizen in this town, doesn't go unnoticed. Some old bird sees, tells the next old bird, and the story goes on. How embellished it gets depends upon how the gossip was misread. Don't go gettin' on anyone's bad side in this town. You won't like the consequences. Sometimes, Nell, it's better not ta ask questions…any questions at all. As much as I like you, ya need to be careful."
As she had said this, she approached the counter, her light hazel eyes narrowing at my question. Her bright green eyeshadow bore the resemblance to a large, glittering green snake, and I was taken aback by my observation. Wherever I went, I couldn't get away from the lies and the Rita Skeeters' of society's darkest recesses. I wondered how anyone dealt with it, the knowledge that your every move was watched as if it was being dissected under a microscope for someone's deeper desires. The cameras watching me constantly when I worked did nothing to compare with the tendrils of fear I felt at being watched. However, Sadie caught me back into her ramblings with a mention of a familiar face.
"Sullivan's like ya too. He's different, but he's careful. Ya'd be wise to learn a thing or two from him. He's adjusted just fine to the 'new way of life.' Everything takes a bit of getting used to, but for some, it takes longer than others."
As Sadie said this, I thought about the little old man a week ago that claimed I would need time. It seems like the sentiment was shared, but my impatient nature was resisting the truth. I always resisted the truth when it was important. I called it habit.
"Did you punch Sullivan's coffee card? It's taped to my register."
Just like that, Sadie had gone back to the normal monotony that was purely "BISTO." As I grabbed the trefoil-shaped hole punch, I located the card on the register, punching the second hole on the card. I counted those remaining coffee cups as opportunities to get to know the only one who knew what I was going through. It was a challenge to which I was looking forward, even if it seemed impossible.