Six

Six

89 days until the wedding

Work has been so busy today I'm sure I have my own personal set of bowling pins tumbling down in my head. I guess it's not helping that me and the other guy working the cash registers keep bumping into each other in our frantic attempts to hand out shoes, collect cash, and charge cards. The constant nagging for bumpers to be put up and down also isn't helping the situation either, but this is all typical for a Saturday shift.

"Here you go," I say, placing a size seven shoe on the table for a girl who didn't fit into a five, or a six, and silently pray that it fits for both her sake and mine.

The girl quickly slips it on to make sure, and sends me a grateful smile to confirm the notion before heading to her lane to catch up with her friends.

I open my mouth to send the usual, 'hi, how are you?' greeting to the next person in line only to smile when I'm greeted by a familiar face.

"Avery!" Valerie, one of the teeny boppers that has been working here for a while, but can still be considered a newbie, practically cheers when our eyes meet. "Would you mind taking this pizza over to lane twenty-one for me? I would do it, but I drank way too much coffee this morning and I really have to pee, but my break isn't for another hour."

"Of course." I almost laugh out the words as the petite brunette continues to stand there shifting from foot to foot.

"Thank you so much!" she gushes, splaying her hands out on the counter for emphasis, before speeding away.

My eyes quickly land on the pizza now sitting in front of me before flickering to the now diminishing line on the left of me, and I decide that taking a minute to deliver a pizza won't hinder the flow we have going.

Having no waitress skills, or even just plain old walking skills whatsoever, I grip the round black tray with both of my hands as I make my way out from behind the counter and towards the bowling lanes. My eyes focus on the number twenty-one before giggling has me stopping and lifting the tray up, allowing a group of kids to scramble by. Once I'm in the clear, I bring the tray back down and continue to walk until I'm steps away from the lane. As I mentally prepare for the transition of plush carpet to hardwood floor underneath my feet something collides into the backs of my knees and has my unstable reflexes slamming me down onto the ground just before the two small stairs. The pain that erupts in my wrists is numbed by the fact that my fall left me face to face with a steaming hot cheese pizza.

I immediately lift my head up and catch a small blue t-shirt covered figure amid my sauce filled gaze and hear a quick apology from a mother as she pulls the small child away. I barely process the words because I'm still trying to process the fact that I'm on the ground, and the sputtering laughter I hear a few feet ahead of me isn't helping the situation. As I try to gauge the amount of sauce I'm wearing, two arms help lift me off the ground.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Before I can even decide the same person gasps. "Avery James, is that you?"

I finally move my eyes away from the sauce covering the logo on my polo and lock eyes with the girl in front of me. However, when I inevitably find a grand total of six pairs of eyes on me, my left eye twitches, and it's not just because grease seems to be dripping into it.

"It is you." The girl in front of me answers her own question as her eyes continue to roam over my figure. "Oh gosh, here." As if on cue the audience she calls friends turn their attention away from me, and follow her as she turns and swiftly hands me a napkin. Their eyes land on me again and watch as I quickly wipe away at my eyes to at least rid myself of some of the irritation swirling around my head. "So, how've you been?" The girl casually chirps before she gestures around my form. "Aside from... you know?"

"Killing our pizza." One of the guys in the group butts in and another guy slaps him, but that doesn't hinder any of their snickers.

"I'm good," I finally say, clenching the napkin in my fist and willing myself to only focus on the brown-eyed gaze in front of me. "You?"

"I'm good." She nods absentmindedly as her eyes dance around me again. "I just can't believe you're here, I mean"—she quickly waves her hand at me again, but this time dismissively—"here as in, that you still work here. It's just.. It's as if nothing's changed."

They might as well just pick the pizza up off the floor and slam it into my face again.

"Well, I better get back to it." I send them all a completely fake, closed mouth smile before turning around and swiping the pizza up off the floor as I go. My retreat is fast, but not fast enough to miss one last remark from a person I can't say I ever have, or ever will know.

"Yeah, better get me a new pizza too!"

I quickly slide the demolished pizza into a trash can before heading into the bathroom. The tray goes clattering onto the three-sink counter as I place my hands on either side of the center one. I lock eyes with myself in the mirror and will myself to breathe as I assess my appearance. Despite the few splatters of sauce on my teal polo and the orange stains on my cheeks, I find myself more concerned with the fly away hairs framing the sides on my face from the haphazard ponytail I threw the wavy strands in only an hour into my shift.

I see a black polo in my peripheral vision as someone comes out of a stall and begins washing their hands in the sink next to me. Valerie's head sways from side to side as she hums, but the soft sound ceases when she realizes someone is standing next to her. My gaze remains on my reflection as her eyes dart to me for a quick second, but when she finally registers that it's me, she gasps.

"Girl, what happened?" Valerie pulls her hands out from underneath the automatic sink in front of her and wipes them on the front of her jean shorts. "Never mind, don't answer that. If there's anything I've learned from working in the grease zone, it's to always be prepared. I'll go get my extra shirt." She dashes out of the room before I can properly thank her.

I have momentary qualms about our different clothing sizes, but as I continue to stare back at my emotionless expression I decide that's the least of my worries.

Seeing people from high school should be a pleasant surprise about what used to be. Instead, it's only a painful reminder of all the insecurities you had, and all the dreams you thought your present self would have already achieved.

I cup my hands under the faucet and allow a pool of water to form in my palms before splashing my face with it. One look from accusing eyes I haven't even thought about in four years, and yet I feel like an acne covered sixteen-year-old girl again. I despise myself for feeling this way, and for rubbing extra hard at the oil on my cheeks to ensure that there isn't chance I could possibly look that way.

I bring my head back up and force myself to face the doubts one insignificant conversation has brought to my mind.

They said nothing's changed, but that's where they are and always will be wrong.

I have a family that loves me, food in my kitchen, clean water in my sink, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. That's something I've always known, but sixteen-year-old me constantly allowed her insecurities make her forget.

I'm aware and accept who I've been, who I am, and who I still want to be. I also know that it most certainly doesn't matter what other people think. Especially, people who never have and never will truly know me.

And my view of them should be nothing less.

****

"You're plates in the microwave, Avery!" my mom calls in habitual procedure as I walk into the kitchen from the garage.

"Thank you!" I call back with a fist pump when I see a heaping serving of mac and cheese resting on the plate.

"How was work?!"

I press start on the microwave before scurrying my way into the living room. "Busy!" my yell isn't too loud, but loud enough to be heard over the television as I dash up the stairs to change into pajamas.

When I stumble back into the room wearing my favorite black F.R.I.E.N.D.S t-shirt, plaid pajama bottoms, and my hair in a freshly secured ponytail, I find there are three more people in my living room than I anticipated.

Both my parents are sitting on the loveseat, Aubrey and Ben are cuddling on two cushions of the sofa, and grandma Josephine has the one-person couch all to herself. All their eyes are so fixated on the television that they barely even notice my stumbling form as I make my way back into the kitchen to devour mac and cheese like it's nobody's business.

After my mission of eating away the pain that was today is complete, I plop down on the cushion next to Aubrey. I wrap myself up in a fluffy blanket and can feel all my muscles sigh in content. Although sleep seems ideal, I find myself casting my gaze on the T.V. screen, wanting to decipher what has everyone so entranced.

This is no great adventure.

No cliff diving into the Mediterranean Sea, or comparison to the Aurora Borealis, but it's one of those rare, insignificant moments that I live for. It's easy to get caught up in the expectations for what your life should be, or even the expectation that you should always be searching for something better. Although one day day I would like to take a leap of faith into the precarious whims of life, right now I live for this kind of simplicity, surrounded by my family as we take an hour, or so to enjoy someone else's crazy life instead of our own.

My eyelids squeeze shut on their own accord when bright white light flashes in my line of vision.

"We finally picked a venue." I hear Aubrey's voice in the midst of my rapid blinking and I finally lean back against the couch to find her phone screen sitting in front of my face. "It has a huge banquet hall, but also a really nice outdoor venue with a bunch of trees and flowers."

"That's cool," I finally mumble when I'm able to see the pictures she's swiping with her finger. "That's really cool." I sit up straighter when the outdoor pictures come into view and Aubrey lets me hold her phone so I can have a more thorough look.

"Right? I'm so excited—we are so excited. I mean, it all seems so real now, yet still very surreal."

In my peripheral vision, I see Ben pick up Aubrey's hand and with his eyes still trained on the T.V. he plants a small kiss to her knuckles. She responds by snuggling further into him.

"Will ya'll quit your yapping, Captain America is on the screen." Grandma Josephine pipes up, and once I finish scrolling through all the pictures, I give Aubrey her phone back.

"That's Iron Man, mom," my dad corrects her and my grandma sighs, clutching her purse closer to her chest.

"Robert Downy Jr. is such a dreamboat, always has been."

"Couldn't agree more." A quick glance at my mom shows me her smile, and my dad's furrowed brow quickly transforms into a smug smile.

"You know when I was younger everyone said I looked like him."

My mom turns her head and throws my dad a smile will my grandma huffs with her eyes still trained on the screen.

"They must've been lying."

A bang from the television captures our attention so we all now focus on the battle occurring on the screen instead of the potential one in our living room. In all honesty, if my dad and grandma were to physically battle it out I think my grandma would win only because my grandma's go to move is to knock people out with her purse. There's got to be a ton of bricks in there, or maybe even just a ton of red lipstick.