He laughs, and even though laughing is not something I can easily do anymore, I adore listening to his. It’s like somebody bottled up happiness, and it’s hooked up inside him, so whenever he wants, he can just let some loose to infect the people around him. “I beg to differ. In any case, as you’ve missed most of your shift already, we decided to best utilize your talents at the bowling alley rather than servicing patrons.”
Even though I know he’s kidding, I still wince. “I’m an hour late. I hardly call that missing most my shift.”
Inside the diner, Paul—the owner-slash-dishwasher of the Moose—is leaning against the counter, flipping through a motocross magazine. He looks up when the bell over the door sings. “There’s our girl.” I’m gifted with one of his earnest smiles. “You had us worried. Everything okay?”
I wonder what he’d think of me if I were to ever answer that question honestly.
I glance around the diner—it’s a ghost town. Not a single customer is to be seen. I’m taken aback, as I’ve never witnessed the Moose so empty. “I am so sorry, Paul. My alarm clock sucks. I’ll buy a new one tomorrow. I promise this won’t be a problem again.”
Acting like my missing an hour of work is nothing of consequence, he comes over and hugs me. Paul Neakok gives the best bear hugs, ones that can nourish even a soul like mine, especially when everything in me feels like it’s being sucked down into a black hole.
Like today. Like every day nowadays. Four months’ worth of black hole days.
“I believe you. Don’t worry about it, Zoe-girl. Did I ever tell you how I was late to my sister’s wedding? By something like forty minutes. Worse yet, I had the rings with me. I thought my aaga was going to skin me alive, but—maybe it was all the pre-celebration champagne, she just laughed. Mothers, right?” His grin spreads all the way to his nearly black eyes. “If I can get away with that, you can get away with oversleeping a little.”
See? Way too generous. “But—”
“Ginny was loads happy you were late.” Will stuffs wrapped straws into an old-fashioned glass dispenser. “She’s itching to buy a new phone, so she could use the extra cash.”
It’s not like I’m exactly hurting for money myself right now, but the money I’ve got hidden in my room back at the boarding house is coated in guilt and hard to keep using.
I guess theft can do that to a girl.
I sigh and unwrap my scarf, only to have Will reach over and press his hand against mine. “No need. Like I said. Bowling. Us. Now.”
Paul flips his baseball cap backwards and rubs his closely cropped beard. “We sent Gin ahead to pick up Frieda so they can get us a lane at the alley.”
I suck at bowling. SUCK. Which is why they probably love playing with me—I’m the guaranteed loser. “Not to be a whiner or anything, but I kind of need the tips, guys.” And pride. I’d love to keep what’s left of my pride tonight, thank you very much.
Paul opens the cash register and takes out several twenties. “Ask and ye shall receive.”
I refuse to take them. “Paul. C’mon.”
“Who’re you expecting to get tips from?” Will steps in front of me, straightening my scarf. “Ghosts? Zo, the diner is closed, lest you haven’t noticed.”
I sigh. The Moose on the Loose Diner actually does pretty well on most days. Tonight is clearly dead, yes, but Paul certainly isn’t hurting. But I like earning my money, so even though he hands the bills off to Will, who slips them into his pocket to pawn off on me later, I resolve to work overtime on my next shift and not clock in for it.
While Paul is locking up, Will shoves a cup of java into my hands, already prepared the way I like it. A small smile breaks free before I sip the warm brew; the motion feels foreign, but good.
I wish I could smile more often. Real smiles are so hard to come about anymore; I’d give my left foot to be able to feel pleasure without it being extraordinary or alcohol-induced. But if I’m going to smile, it’s usually because Will coaxes one out of me.
“This is good,” I tell him.
He’s affronted. “Of course it is. I made it.”
It’s a moment in which I want to laugh. Really laugh. Because that’s so Will: egotistical, generous, and hot-hot-hot all rolled into one. Instead, I smile a bit more, relishing the sensations these small muscle movements incur.