Awake

“How old are you again?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“You’re one of the hardest workers we have here.”

Janie smiled as she scraped stuck-on grease from a pan. It was the fourth hour of her second shift ever; she’d gone straight to the restaurant from school. The compliment fueled her, and she started daydreaming of running the kitchen one day.

At nearly midnight, Janie finished wiping down the counters and left the kitchen.

“Have a good night everyone!” she yelled on her way out.

The bar area was still serving, about ten men lining the bar rail. A few of their necks twisted at Janie’s goodbye.

“Wait wait wait,” the boldest one yelled.

Janie’s quick feet halted. She turned around, smiled.

“Where did you come from?” he asked her.

“I work in the kitchen. I’m a dishwasher,” she said, her voice low and careful though she didn’t know why.

“Kitchen? You should be a waitress or behind the bar.”

“Let Janie go home,” her manager intervened.

“I’m just sayin, Kev. You let a pretty thing like that hide in the kitchen?”

“She’s too young to serve alcohol,” the manager snapped.

“Really?” said the man as he eyed Janie up and down. A couple other men at the bar did the same, like they had to judge how old she looked, justify their behavior and ogling of her earlier, and make it her fault for how she looked.

“Have a good night Janie. See you tomorrow,” the manager dismissed her. “Here, I’ll walk you to your car.”

Janie could hear her pulse; it was the only sound through the parking lot, and it was amplifying.

Before saying goodbye, her manager apologized for the guys’ behavior. “I just hope you don’t feel uncomfortable here,” he said.

“I mean, it’s okay. Maybe one day I will be a waitress or bartender.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be here in this small town. It’ll be in a college town or something.”

“Oh, I can’t go to college.”

“Sure you can. I saw that 4.0 GPA on your application.”

Janie just smiled. “Thank you for walking me over here.”

“No problem. Goodnight.”

Janie walked in her front door and put out the cigarette burning down to a nub in her sleeping mother’s hand. She laid her mother down flat on the couch, put a pillow behind her head and a blanket over her body.

“Work went well today mom,” Janie whispered to the lump on the couch. “My manager said I’m a hard worker. Night night.”

Janie went to school the next day exhausted, yet still feeling like she aced her history test.

“Janie? Can I speak with you?” Her guidance counselor visited her in the last class of the day.

After some smart-ass comments from other students about her being in trouble, Janie got worried. Not that she was in trouble — she knew she wasn’t; she never was.

Mom. That was all she could think. Something’s wrong with her; that’s why Mrs. Hill called me out of class.

After the silent walk to Mrs. Hill’s office, Janie’s palms were dripping wet and her face hot.

“I wanted to speak with you about the upcoming college fair,” Mrs. Hill said once they were seated across from one another.

“That’s why you called me down here?” Janie sighed, relieved. She worried about her mom a lot.

“Why aren’t you signed up to go? It’s never too early.”

“Oh, I’m not going to college.”

“Why not? You’re so smart.”

“My mom says it’s too expensive.”

“Well, there’s always financial aid and — ”

“It’s just not for me. Mom says.”

Mrs. Hill explained financial aid to her and student loans and scholarships, but Janie’s mind was elsewhere. She didn’t need this today. She had to work later.

“Oh Janie, you look so cute in your checkered pants,” her mom said, poking fun.

Janie grinned, proud of her outfit. “Thanks Mom! You should come into the restaurant this weekend for lunch while I’m working.”

“I’ll be at Dave’s Saturday and Sunday. You’ll have the house to yourself. No parties.”

Janie would never have a party.

“Tonight then? Want to come in tonight?”

“We’ll see.”

Janie walked into work with her head down, avoiding the guys in the bar area. Two hours into her shift, the kitchen was spotless and new deliveries were perfectly stocked.

“That’s not even your job to do all this. Thank you,” her manager said. “Man, the good employees will always leave.”

“I’m not leaving?”

“But you will. You’ll go to college. Or you’ll do one of those gap years in a big city. You won’t be here. Which is a good thing, kiddo.”

“Why does everyone keep talking about this?” Janie said out loud but meant to say to herself.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you.”

Nearing the end of her shift, Janie found a stool to stand on so she could put the last of the cookware away in the highest cabinet. The other kitchen workers had just left.

“Woah, woah. Hold on there,” Her manager came in out of nowhere. “I don’t want you to fall. Let me help.”

Janie expected him to put the cookware away for her; he was over six feet tall with long, lanky arms. Instead, he wrapped his snake-fingers around her waist and lifted her up, his hands pressing just under her breastbone. Janie’s body tensed as she hurried to put the stuff away.

He lowered her slowly, and both of his hands brushed her behind before he walked out.

That was an accident, Janie thought.

And she really wished her mother came in that night; she felt a dire need to see her.

Janie came home to an empty, dark house. She wanted her mom to be there so badly, but even if she was, she wouldn’t have been awake, and so Janie couldn’t tell her what’d happened — not that they even spoke of things like that anyway. Her mom wouldn’t have thought it a big deal; she’d call her dramatic.

It was probably an accident.

But Janie tossed and turned that night, new thoughts creeping into her mind that she never thought before. Thoughts of leaving.

But what would leaving this town do? she thought. People felt this way or worse all over the place. Lots and lots of people. Her stomach turned.

She didn’t know what to think as she lie awake that night; all she knew was that she was thinking now for the first time.