A Little Push

A story idea I had.

            I just graduated with my Bachelor of Arts degree in psychology. It took me five years to acquire that degree, and I still have no idea what I want to do with my life. I went into psychology because I had no idea, and I thought I'd figure it out along the way, but that didn't happen. Now I'm twenty three with a useless degree. Everyone knows if you want a good job with a psychology degree you have to go to grad school. I didn't flunk out of undergrad, but I didn't excel, either. My grades are average. Mostly Bs mixed with a few Cs. I'm flat out broke. I could take out loans, but that's just debt to deal with later on in life. My father paid for my undergrad, and I appreciate that, but I'm on my own for grad school...Provided I could even get in. Which I highly doubt.

            I do have a job. I work at a hospital that's within walking distance of my college campus. I work at the hospital's gift shop. It's a good job, and simple work. It pays just barely above minimum wage. I'm mostly on the register, checking people out. Our gift shop is tiny. It sells balloons, which we blow up and tie ribbon to, which we curl, live and silk flowers, stuffed animals, assorted candy bars, sodas, and sundries that we keep behind the register. Other than the manager I'm the only person at the gift shop. My manager is Tess Finke, and she's really nice. She's more than just my manager; she's also my friend. I confide in her a lot.

            Today when I showed up for work I was wearing my usual uniform; jeans, a flowery top, small silver stud earrings, plain white sneakers, and my identification badge. I dress simply. I don't wear any flashy jewelry or makeup. My mother tells me I'm blessed to be naturally pretty; tall and lithe, with long blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. I have a crooked nose, though.

            I show up to work the day after my graduation expecting everything to be the same as it always is. We're never very busy. Mostly I dust and needlessly rearrange the sundries and listen to people's sob stories and ailments. I nod and say "I'm sorry to hear that" and all the other sympathetic but automatic things you're supposed to say when someone gives you more information about their life than you'd ever wanted to know. Occasionally we do get nurses or doctors or other hospital employees come in for a snack or a drink. One particularly handsome young doctor named Jeffrey Watson comes in a lot. He's tall and muscular with tan skin, bronze hair, and matching eyes with dimples when he smiles.

            He's gorgeous. I think he might be some kind of surgeon, but I'm not sure. He wears scrubs, a cap over his beautiful hair, and gloves. He has to put a mask over his face, but he pulls it down when he comes into the gift shop so he can flash his perfectly aligned pearly whites at me.

            After I clock in and deposit my purse in the back office, I'm about to go to the register when Tess calls my name and I pause. I turn to face her and she gives me a smile that isn't at all happy. It appears painfully forced.

            "Is everything alright, Tess?" I implore. I'm immediately on edge when she says.

            "You might want to sit down, Lennie."

            That's my name; Lennie. Actually, my name is Eleanor Quartz, but no one calls me that. My mother insisted I have a very feminine name, while my father insisted on one that was tougher. They settled on Eleanor with my father nicknaming me Lennie. I prefer my nickname to my old fashioned first name. I've never been very girly, much to my mother's immense disappointment. In fact, I'm more of a tomboy. When I was younger I loved to rough it in the dirt with the boys. I played basketball and baseball and volleyball on my school's sports teams. I played baseball because there was no softball team, so I tried out for the boy's baseball team. I obviously had skills, but they initially refused to let me join because I was a girl. My father became involved and argued they were being sexist. The principle agreed, and I got to join, to the ire of the boys. They eventually adapted though, and I befriended most of them.

            Instead of dolls as a child I played with plastic dinosaurs. The first thing I ever said I wanted to be was a paleontologist. What five year old says they want to be a paleontologist? Apparently, me. I still think dinosaurs are awesome. My favorites are the carnivores like Allosaurus (a way cool dino with a way stupid name- it translates to different lizard. Like, seriously?) and Spinosaurus. T-Rex is just so overplayed, though I confess I've watched every Jurassic movie at least a dozen times. But I don't think I'm cut out to be a paleontologist. I wish I knew what I am good at.

            Anyway, I digress. I sit down in the fold up chair in the office and twist it to face Tess, who's now staring at me with pity in her eyes.

            "You know this is a student position, Lennie." Tess begins, and I nod.

            I knew that. My badge says as much.

            "I've spoken with my supervisor, and you can work here for the summer, but since you've graduated you aren't technically a student anymore, and so you'll have to move on."
            "You mean I can't work here anymore?" I gasp. It isn't totally unexpected, but it is a major bummer. This is the only source of meager income I have. It's afforded me my school books and family's Christmas presents, as well as the countless books, DVDs, and CDs that I've collected over the years.

            "Yes." Tess says gently. "If you decide to go to grad school, and provided you are accepted to one nearby, you may, of course, continue to work here, but otherwise..." She trails off.

            "I've loved having you these past four years, Lennie. You've been a fabulous employee. You're always on time, you're dedicated, your great with the customers...If I could hire you full time I would, but I can't."

            "I understand, Tess." I say, keeping my voice light. Internally I'm panicking. What am I going to do now? This is almost as awful of news as what my father said to me last night over the dinner table:

            "You're an adult, now, Lennie. Do you know what that means?" My father asks me as he takes a bite from his fast food chicken leg. He doesn't wait for me to guess. He goes on:

            "It means I've supported you your entire life, but now you're on your own. You have a degree, that I paid my hard earned money for, and now you must decide what you're going to do with it.

            "I've already packed your things in your suitcase. I expect you to be out of the house by tomorrow."

            I stare at my father in disbelief. He cannot be serious. I drop the spoonful of fast food mashed potatoes I was lifted towards my gaping mouth.

            "Where am I supposed to go?" I cry frantically. I glance over at my mother, who is staring down at her plate and won't meet my eyes.

            "You're seriously kicking me out? Your only child?" I demand.

            My father nods. "It's called tough love, Lennie. If we allow you to stay here any longer then you'll get comfortable and you'll lose your motivation. You won't even try and find a job or apply to grad school. I could have kicked you out at eighteen, but I saw you through school, even when you took an extra year to complete it. I've done my duty as your parent. It's past time you learned how to be a fully functioning, competent member of society."

            I swallow hard. My eyes plead with my mother for help, but she still won't look at me.

             I sigh. "Fine." I agree, because there is no other choice. "Give me tonight to find a place, and I'll leave first thing tomorrow morning." I can hardly believe the words coming from my mouth.

            My father nods in satisfaction, and we resume our respective dinners. Neither of us speaks another word. I don't bother helping with the cleanup as I usually do. By tomorrow I won't live here, so I figure it's not my responsibility any longer.

            Instead, I head up to my room where I see my father has indeed backed my bags. I walk around my childhood room, now bare of my posters. My bed is stripped of its bedding. The bookshelf is barren. I slid open my closet door and find it depressingly barren. Everything that I own, effectively my whole world, sits in four suitcases at the foot of my bed.

            I whip out my cell phone and punch the number two. Sid picks up on the second ring.

            "Hello?" He sounds groggy, like my call just woke him up at seven in the evening.

            "Sid, it's Lennie. I need your help." I tell him.

            When he replies he sounds instantly more alert. "What's up?" He asks.

            "My father has decided I am an adult and can no longer reside beneath his roof." I summarize. "I know it's a lot to ask, but can I stay with you for a while?" Sid has his own place, a shithole of an apartment downtown. That's how he describes it. I've never actually been there.

            "Of course, Lennie." Sid says easily. This is why he's my best friend...Well, one of the many reasons.

            "Do you need me to come pick you up, or are you going to drive?"

            "Could you pick me up? I have a lot of stuff and it's not going to fit in my trunk, but it will in the bed of your truck." Sid has an ancient blue, rusty truck handed down to him from his mechanic father. Sid's followed in his footsteps. Rather than go to college, immediately after our high school graduation Sid started working at the same auto shop as his father. He's good at fixing cars; he's kept his junk truck working all these years, after all. He doesn't love the work, but it pays.

            "Sure, Lennie. I'll be there in a couple of hours, ok? I gotta eat first."

            "Ok.Thanks, Sid." I reply. I hang up and tuck my cell phone back in my pocket. I collapse on my bed with a sigh and bury my face in my hands. Sid's apartment is a temporary solution. I won't stay there long. I don't want to impose more than necessary, and if his place is as horrible as he claims, I'm not sure I'd want to stay, anyway.

            I should have majored in something more useful.

            Two hours later Sid is honking his horn to announce his arrival, and I haul my four suitcases, two at a time, down the stairs to the front door.

            "I thought you needed until tomorrow to find some place to stay." My father says, rounding the corner. He pushes his glasses back up his nose (they're always slipping down) and puts his hands on his hips.

            "Sid said I could stay with him for a while." I tell my father.

            He arches his eyebrows and purses his lips. It's his classic look of distain. I know what he's thinking; his young, fresh out of college, single daughter is going to be shacking up with her also young, likely horny, never attended college, also single guy best friend, and that's only going to lead to one thing. But he's wrong. I'm still a virgin, and I plan on staying that way for the foreseeable future. And it isn't like that with Sid and I. We've been best friends forever and there's never been anything romantic, or even sexual, about it.

            My father sighs and shakes his head. He's disapproving, but really he's the cause of all this, what with him kicking me out and all, so he says nothing other than: "Do you need help with your bags?"

            I could use the help, but I'm feeling a bit bitter and my stubborn pride won't allow me to accept it anyhow. So I shake my head, too.

            "No, I'll be just fine." I snap at him. I grab my suitcases, two in each hand, and stumble out the door onto the front porch.

            Sid opens the door of his truck and races over to grab two of my suitcases. He throws them unceremoniously into the bed of his truck and then takes the remaining two from me and does the same.

            Then he gets back in the truck and I climb in the passenger's side and slam the door a little harder than is necessary. As Sid revs the engine and pulls out. I steal a glance back at my childhood home. My father is watching me from the open doorway.

            I turn to face Sid when he cranks up the music; some s****y punk rock band that no one's ever heard of. I reach for the volume knob and twist it down. Sid glares at me, but then his expression softens.

            "So, your dad kicked you out, huh? That blows." He mutters.

            I roll my eyes. "You're telling me." I say.

            "Thanks, by the way." I add. "I really appreciate you letting me stay with you."

            "Don't thank me yet. You haven't even seen the place." He comments.       

            "Oh great!" I groan. We ride the rest of the way in silence.

            When we arrive at Sid's apartment building we have to park across the street. It's a less busy part of downtown, and a much poorer district as well. I cling to Sid as we pass several homeless in rags with cups in their outstretched hands. I wince as I realize that if it hadn't been for Sid, I'd be homeless, too.

            We ride in a rickety elevator up to the fifth floor and head down a dingy hallway with stained carpeting and plain, peeling walls to the last door on the left. It's marked with the number twenty two.

            Sid fishes his key out of his pocket and unlocks the door. It swings open to reveal a small but not as awful as he'd made me believe space. There's an old couch with a small TV across from it, and a kitchen with a stove, sink, a few wood cabinets, and a microwave. There's no dishwasher. The counter is clear...In fact the whole place is quite immaculate. I'm surprised and impressed. The place isn't nice, and Sid hasn't put up any decorations, but I can tell he makes an effort to keep the place clean.

            "You'll have to sleep on the couch." Sid tells me. "Unless you want to sleep in my bed."

            That he even suggests this startles me. We had sleepovers at my house and his when we were kids, but we never shared a bed. One of us was always on the floor, depending on whose house we were sleeping at.

            "The couch is fine." I say, and I walk over to it and set my suitcases down. Sid sets the ones he carried in down next to them.

            "The bathroom is down the hall to the right. My bedroom is to the left. Have you eaten yet tonight?"

            I nod wordlessly and flop onto the couch, feeling suddenly exhausted.

            "I'm gonna hit the shower." Sid tells me.

            I nod again. That's probably a good idea, I think, because he smells like car oil.

            "Do you need anything?" He asks me.

            "No."

            I wait until he's shut the bathroom door and I can hear the shower running before I let the tears begin to fall.

            "Home sweet home." I mumble to myself.

            "Lennie?" Tess's questioning, worried voice startles me.

            I blink slowly and look at her.

            "I asked what you were going to do." Tess says, her voice gentle.

            I rise from the folding chair. "I'm going to work." I tell her, because she's my manager...For now.

            "I didn't mean today." Tess tells me with a small smile. "I meant your future. You can't stay here, so what are you going to do?"

            "That's a good question." I reply. "And I wish I had an answer."

            With that, I walked out of the office and went to the shop's front door. I unlocked it and then logged onto the computer that served as our register. I adjusted my blouse and played with my badge. I have to not only ponder but seriously consider Tess's question, because I can't stay with Sid forever, and it wouldn't be right for me to live in his apartment and not compensate him. He'd never ask me for money, but I will pay him whatever I can scrounge up. I've never been very good at saving; online shopping has always been a weakness of mine.

            I have three months to figure my life out, I think. Three months to get my s**t together, as Sid would say.

            Little did I know that only two hours later something would happen that could potentially change the course of my life forever. I was in a tailspin, and one person could either save me, or cause me to crash.