That day was four years ago. I'm still here, folding towels and placing pudding cups. Daisy comes less regularly now, dealing with living out her dream. I guess I decided to study psychology because I wanted to be able to understand people like Daisy. She was successful in all her endeavors, working at high class sports clubs as a mixologist, but every day that she came in she looked more and more tired. From my studies, I knew that it was stress, but we hadn't spoken in a while since it'd gotten busy with March break visits. Now, on the first day of March Break, I could see her shoulders slumping and her tired, bedraggled movements. I went over to her, two popsicles in hand.
"You look beat," I say, "what's up?"
She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. She'd grown out the bangs, and then cut them again, but in a side-swept style that seems to be sweeping the nation. The sun had made her hair two shades lighter, and it was pulled up into a high bun. "Living the dream isn't as much fun as I thought it'd be," she says, taking a Popsicle and collapsing on the sofa. "And the worst part is it's not even about my job."
"Then what's going on?" I ask.
"Do you remember Mick Situp?"
"Yea," I say, "party animal who likes indie music and veggies?"
"That's the one," she says, "Well the guy asks me out on a date. And since he's a funny guy, whom I like, and we'd been friends for a long time, I say, 'sure, why not?'"
"Okay…" I say, composing my mask of indifference easily.
"So on our date, he takes me to a VAMP club!"
Puzzled I respond with, "Enlighten me on vamp clubs? Is this some urban term I'm not used to?"
"Vampires exist," she says, "The Plasma Lounge is their bar. I'm dead serious Ry, you don't even know! They're insane. So anyway, on our date he confesses to me that he'd been turned into a vampire, and that if we want to be together, I have to become one too!"
"What the hell?" I ask, almost dropping my Popsicle.
"I know right? There's no way I'm becoming a vampire. I take pride in my tans!"
"So what did you tell him?"
"I told him there was no way I was going to date him, and left," she says. "But now there's a creepy rich vampire stalking my house, and I've slept at Matilda Smart's for the past three nights. I love her to bits, but she's got an inappropriate roommate named Harry, and another named Alex, and they both keep hitting on me. Not to mention they're all artsy fartsy and I can't stand it. Plants over paintings, I always say."
"You could crash at mine," I suggest, "I live in a high rise on 2 Peak Parkway. I have like two roommates and one empty room. My mates are pretty awesome, and neither of them are inappropriate art enthusiasts. Finn is a bassist and Lydia is a guitarist."
"So you formed a band after all?" she says.
I smirk and nod. "We're not that big, but we're all in the same college and everything, and we just formed up a couple days ago. We actually already have a gig at Eugi's I think."
"I might just mix that day then," she says, smiling. "And I think I'll take you up on that offer. Would you mind coming along with me to move my stuff? It's not like I have much anyway, just a couple books and stuff."
"Sure," I say. "I think my shift just ended, where is this apartment of yours?"
We take my Porsche (a graduation present from my rich aunt) over to the outskirts of the city, and get to Daisy's studio. It exudes an aura of modern parties. A professional looking bar with a couple of drinks on it sits next to a sleek fireplace. A high-definition television and bean bag chairs, small study space, drum set, sleek, tiny kitchen and fancy looking bedroom complete the apartment.
"I like it," I say, as Daisy pops in and throws her keys on a hook, going to her room to pack.
"Thanks," she calls, "I hate it!"
I laugh, "Why?!"
"It was a gift given to me from my step-father to keep me from arguing or interrupting his fabulous relationship with my new step-mom. Payoff may seem sweet but it's really just pathetic."
"God," I say, "party girl has depth."
She comes out of her room carrying a giant bag full of clothes, and then skids into the study to grab her computer. "No kidding eh? We white chicks have such bad reputations when it comes to this partying nonsense."
"If that's true, then you white chicks need to get back in the game!" I say, laughing.
"Sure," I say, rolling my eyes, "but only if you white boys will buy us drink after drink after drink."
"Don't start ripping on us white boys! We certainly have our moments of questionable action, but you girls are the ones who run to the bathroom every five minutes to talk every decision over with your friends!"
Daisy's mouth drops open. "Oh no, you did not just rip on our bathrooms! We decide a lot of very important relationship decisions in there!"
"And how many relationships end in utter and complete failure? Hmmm…"
She throws a pillow at my head. "Shut up psycology major!"
"You gotta use what your momma gave you," I say, laughing and shrugging.
"Oh yea and your mom gave you the ability to be a complete social socience nerd?"
"My mom gave me the ability to choose what I wanted to become, and this seemed like the perfect fit," I respond, grabbing a soda out of her fridge. I toss her one, and she catches it perfectly, even spinning it around with her mixology skills. Even as she'd done it, there was not a hint of showing off, it was as if it was a natural tendency for her.
"And why was that?" she asks, popping open the cap of the soda and taking a swig.
"Being the nerd I am, I really don't understand people at all," I say, making her smile. "That, and I've gotten over some pretty bad things in my own life, and I've picked up a few trademark skills. I'm not the selfish type, and rather not have everyone in the world going insane while I sit, hollowed up in my room, meditating."
She smiles, and stretches out on to her bean bag couch. She waves me over, signalling for me to join her. I do, poised on the armchair comfily. "I love how you can so easily hide the balance between serious and hilarious. It's quite intriguing."
"No it's not," I say, smiling a bit sadly, "it's actually a curse. Because when things get serious, I just want to laugh them away, even though someone else doesn't want to. It's my way of dealing with things, jokes and stuff, even though my jokes are terrible." I sigh. "I suppose that's just the way the cookie crumbles."
"Never understood that metaphor," Daisy says thoughtfully. "My cookies have never once crumbled. I always eat them before that."
I roll my eyes and help her pack up the rest of her things before loading them into the van and hitting the road for Peak Parkway.