By the day her interview comes, Emma is so nervous that she actually throws up. Her throat still burns as she sits in the hard plastic chair outside of the store manager's office sweating through the nylon of her godforsaken pantyhose. She can't believe she's actually wearing hose.
But she manages to smile prettily and maintain good eye contact, and answer all the middle aged pornstache'd manager's inane questions with perfectly bland responses. She is rewarded with a polyester blue vest, a cheap plastic name tag, and an order to start her training the next day at 8am.
She doesn't understand why it makes her so proud. The first coworker she meets is a gumcracking sixteen year old with huge hoop earrings and her eyes constantly glued to her pager. But she is proud of herself, nonetheless.
She celebrates by bring a plastic tray of cupcakes home from the store. Her employee discount is pretty sweet.
Neal congratulates her by making her hot chocolate just the way she likes it. After eating the frosting off hers, Emma dunks the cake part into her chocolate. Crumbs swirl in the mug.
"We're both going to get incredibly fat" Emma mumbles, mouth stuff full of cake.
"After too long nearly starving I would love to get fat" Neal replies, reaching for another cupcake.
"There's just one catch" Emma says, taking another swig of hot chocolate. "It's only part time. They said you have to have a high school diploma to be full time. As if it takes a ton of brains to scan barcodes and make change."
"I thought you were done with school?"
"I was studying to get my GED when they processed my emancipation. I never finished. They practically kicked me out when I turned seventeen. I guess they realized that if I had to stay much longer and I was just going to cut out and run away again."
"I can help you study"
Emma snorts, but really, Neal probably had read more books than she ever had. The boxes pulled from the car's trunk could attest to that. And he read the sort of things they made kids in school read, for fun at that!
As long as the test doesn't involve how to turn on a stove, she'll do fine.
"It'll be really nice not to be a drop out anymore too. People look at you like you've failed as a human being somehow if you tell them you dropped out of high school. Like a few more years of knowing about stupid hard math and old dead white men means anything".
And that is the truth.
She regrets the cupcakes later that night when her nerves get the best of her and she throws up again. She knows she really shouldn't be nervous. It's not as though she hasn't done job training or met new people before.
Maybe it's because for once this all feels real. Like all those platitudes drawled by well meaning guidance counselors about the real world were actually coming true. A job. A chance to finally earn her GED. A home. Things that Emma spent so many years certain that she would never have.
Training goes the next few days just as she expected. Computer lessons of rules and policies. Register training (nothing she hasn't already done), and criticism from supervisors on her "manner" with people. She should smile more they say.
Her coworkers, at first blurred together, start to separate. The gumcracking teen becomes "Steffie", her portly mustachio'd manager "Terry". And the older woman who takes Emma under her wing at register 6, is "Judy".
Judy's been working at "Antonio's Grocery" for 20 years. Her disdain for both customers and management is obvious. Emma loves her right off the bat.
By the time she gets her first paycheck, Emma's wearing her blue vest, punching numbers and scanning barcodes like a pro. She's rehearsed her small talk and friendly smile to perfection. She know knows the store's layout, most of the produce codes, and the specials every week.
The money isn't much, but it's nice to have some coming in. The watch money won't last them forever.
Work is as good as it supposed to be.
And Emma wishes she didn't hate every minute of it so much.
She loathes every customer who complains about the lines. Every customer who lets their children run wild. Every stupid little inconsiderate thing that just proves to her that most people don't regard her as a person.
The extreme couponers are the absolute worst though.
A soccer mom is giving her hell one Friday afternoon over a two for one yogurt when Emma finally bursts and lets out with "Ma'am if you're going to get this mad over 75 cents you could at least read the coupon before yelling at me, or is "not valid on other brands" too complicated for you?"
It's hugely satisfying, and it earns giggles from both Judy at the register behind her, and the pimple faced kid bagging her lane, but it puts Emma on eggshells. It's only been two months, she could be fired easily if word reached management. It's not like there aren't a million other places to work for minimum wage out there, but it's another black mark on her record, and one that would stick this time.
And the market is so close to the apartment. Neal needs the car during the day to look for work. If there is one thing they could not afford, it would be a second car. Emma's already starting to eye her bank account balance with a nervous eye every time she pays the electric bill.
So it's with her stomach uneasy and her mind racing that she returns home. But when she opens the front door she's hit with an unexpected, and unexpectedly wonderful aroma.
"Good timing, the garlic bread's ready!" Neal exclaims while lifting a pan from the oven and setting it on the counter. Next to it is a pot of spaghetti, still steaming.
"Did you know noodles are like a dollar for a whole box? And you only need a little to make a whole pot"
Emma opens her mouth, but no sound comes out at first. When she finally regains the ability to speak, "..manage not to set the place on fire this time?"
Neal takes the pot holders off and sets them on the counter. "Is that anyway to greet someone who just made you dinner after a long day?" he says with mock offense.
He reaches out to embrace her before muttering "Still don't like the stove. Open flame's a lot easier to control".
Emma laughs "yeah, I learned on a gas stove too. So what made you decide to become Mr Gourmet all of a sudden?"
Neal rubs the back of his neck self consciously before reaching for a pair of plates.
"It's just...with you at work all day, I've been feeling kind of useless. Thought I could do something productive, and cooking's a lot cheaper than eating take out all the time".
The spaghetti is delicious, and the garlic bread equally so.
"You didn't make this from scratch did you?" Emma asks, stuffing a bite into her mouth.
"Nahh, but jarred sauce is good and ground beef is easy to brown. Went to the library and got some books of ideas to try, Thought I'd start easy."
She snorts. "Only you would spend a day off at the library"
"Some of us like to better ourselves through knowledge" he says, pointing the end of his fork at her accusingly.
"Still no look with the job search?" she asks sympathetically.
He drops the jovial attitude for a moment "Still nothing. Even the crummy fast food jobs want documentation. If this goes on much longer I'm going to end up looking for day labor gigs. There's got to be some around here. Lots of lawns..."
Emma can tell he's getting a little embarrassed, so she doesn't push. She takes her last bite of spaghetti, and picks up the plates to wash in the sink.
"But, I did give myself a job today" he adds, getting up and reaching onto one of the empty kitchen chairs. Emma pauses, suspicious of his mischievous tone.
He pulls out a thick softcover book, emblazoned with a picture of a perkily dressed dark skinned girl with glasses holding a stack of notebooks and the title "Ace the GED".
Emma lets out a groan. "Seriously?"
"You said you wanted to do it, and I am going to help you."
She rolls her eyes and whines her way through the exercise, but she is rue to admit, that it probably does help. Neal's a better teacher than she's ever had, far more patient. And if she wants to become full time at the market, she has to pass this test. If she wants that.
She doesn't tell Neal about the encounter with the woman at the market. She's on edge for a week waiting for it come up, but it never does.
The days start to fall into a comfortable rhythm. Emma takes on as many shifts as she can. The teenage cashiers are happy for a break, and she's happy for the cash. She bites her tongue and watches the clock and bides her time.
Home is better. Home is a fucking haven. Even with Neal pushing the books at her and fretting whenever she brings up the topic of work.
But despite the worries, even Neal seems happier than she's seen him before. The apartment is always clean when she gets home. His experiments with food are becoming more and more successful (except for the incident with the turkey helper). He has a brightness to his eyes that she's hardly seen, along with his wild grin. He's affectionate, and positive. He looks at her sometimes like she's hung the moon. It's almost too much for her sometimes.
(One night following homemade tacos and him eating her out on the couch while watching TV, she's begun to understand how the patriarchy could have become so attached the housewife thing).
She sets the date to take her GED, it's early on a Saturday and apparently takes three hours. If she passes, Terry says they have a full time spot opening up because one of the closing cashiers is moving home to Ohio after finishing school. She'll take it. One more step to permanence. One more thing that will steady this comfortable little existence they have.
That little dark undercurrent is still there. The worries about money. The fear of mouthing off again and losing her job. And the inescapable fear in Emma's head that this is all too good to be true. That the next minute something is going to go wrong and he's going to leave.
This darkness comes to ahead one night in May when Emma is cleaning her lane before clocking out and Suzy the college aged bag girl asks her to help with the basket of go backs.
Suzy's a jaded smart ass of two years employment, so this ends up being them ripping on the stuff people would leave but still buy
Emma really starts it up when she remembers the grizzled old jerk with the flag shorts who had tried to hit on every underage employee he could find
"Who needs deodorant when it'll cut into your wine budget?"
Suzy matches her with the soccer mom who had been actively lighting up in line despite their protests.
"And these bags of salad could be two whole packs of cigarettes!"
It's when she goes to put back a box of tampons that a light fires through Emma's mind. Suzy snaps her fingers by her head.
"Hey, earth to Emma. Unless you want to be locked in tonight, we should go now"
But she's transfixed, the pin in her mind has dropped at the sight of the neat display.
Fuck.
Fucking FUCK.