Chapter 3

Ricky

It’s sunrise.

I skate past the early morning joggers and the working-class people just heading to their various workplaces as I make my way to Moka P*t. For some reason, I’ve always liked the name of my part-time coffee shop, where I serve as a barista.

I make my way in to be met by my boss, who seems to be cleaning out the equipment for use.

It’s an unfamiliar scenario to me because I usually arrive here first.

I heave a sigh that somewhat echoes the now empty and unarranged shop. Mother really took a lot of my time this morning.

“Good morning, Ricky,” my boss says to me after I come to him in full view. I can no longer see the stubble on his chin that lay there just a day before. 

He’s just had a morning shave.

“Good morning,” I reply back in the coolest manner I could possibly muster, trying not to let my discontent with the morning’s incident show on my face.

It probably works, as he doesn’t say anything after that.

I head to the changing room to put on my work gear and get ready for a busy day. I have to get my head in the game.

I look into the mirror for a while to see if I hung the barista apron right and center, and I see a fresh cut lying bare on my cheek. The pain causes me to flinch as I unconsciously run my finger over it.

“She really did a number on me, didn’t she?” I say to myself, reminiscent of the morning’s incident. It is barely 7 am, but I already have an event-filled morning, unlike most at the time.

“He probably saw it too,” I say, reflecting on my boss, who didn’t say a thing to me about it when we exchanged pleasantries this morning. I would rather he didn’t ask about it, to be frank.

I grit my teeth and head back into the shop to begin serving the first set of customers who are just making their way into the coffee shop for their cups of coffee with the occasional milk or chocolate bread they can get from the bakery across the street.

“Ricky, quickly take these customers orders to them! She wants two cups of iced Americano’s, and the gentleman over there wants a café au lait”. I’ve barely entered back into the service area of the coffee shop, and we already have so many customers waiting.

Work has already begun.

Fast-forward to a few really grueling hours later. The last set of customers I have just served make their way to the exit. I eye the clock hung to my right and watch the seconds on the last minute of my shift go by. What a day it has been already.

The day is barely halfway done—as it is just about to clock 1 pm— and my day is already quite stressful. I just want to leave as quickly as possible and be anywhere but here. Alone.

“Just a moment, Ricky,” my boss signals to me. He’s a great guy, but I hate him for calling me back at this moment. I want nothing more than solitude right now.

I turn slowly and try to mask the annoyed look on my face with a complacent one. He hasn’t asked me about anything yet, and I want it to remain that way right now.

“Is everything alright with you?” he mouths as gently and as concerned as possible, “You have been really out of it today, and you were a bit harsher with the demanding customers than you usually are. Is there something we need to talk about?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I say with a dispassionate look on my face. There’s no need to put up farces or pretend anymore. He already knows.

“Alright then,” he says, reluctantly accepting, “If it’s something we can talk about, I just want you to know that you can confide in me, alright?”

“Okay,” I say and storm toward the day as quickly as possible. I had no intention of telling him anything from the start, even if he were to find out, and I’m sure he already knew that.

I head toward the changing room now and hear my phone buzz in my pocket.

1 new message from Jasper

“

Oi turtle, hope you remember what day it is today? It’s rocket league nite at the bunker, so you best not give any excuses about forgetting or sth. Get ready to be schooled. I’ll come pick you up later”.

I know he’s my best friend, but he can be an absolute dork sometimes. I wonder how we became friends at all most times.

Jasper and I have this thing we do Sunday nights where we go to a bunker in his dad’s farmhouse all night to play video games. He always yaps about beating me at it, but he sucks at it, to be honest.

I begin changing out of my work gear now, taking off my barista aprons, then the polo t-shirts and the work hat, and I fold them all neatly in a corner.

I head out toward the parking lot to meet with Jasper, who had already moved his all-white 2017 sedan to come and had parked it right in front of the bakery across the street.

I can still vividly remember how excited he was when his parents got him the car for his 17th birthday. He wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks.

I put my skateboard and my helmet in the trunk and make my way to sit with him upfront in the car. I only ever rode shotgun when I was with him.

“Are you ready to get schooled today, good sire?” he says as boisterously and rambunctiously as he usually is. There are bits of food in his mouth that appear to be donut pieces, and they seem to want to splatter out of his mouth as he talks.

“Whatever,” I say with a straight face as he starts the engine, and we begin the transit to his parents’ apartment.

Just then, I receive another text message, and my phone vibrates again, this time in my right pocket that is now anchored beside the car gear stick.

It’s a message on Telegram.

Re-info: from ArtHub

Good day, Mister Gordon. We hope your day has been a pleasant one.

This is to remind you of this week’s book you are expected to read starting today and to urge you to familiarize yourself with your book club pair for the week as soon as possible.

Our book read for this week is the poem ‘Dunes of Greyhound,’ and you are expected to have been done with it by the end of the week.

Furthermore, you have been paired with Missus Pat James on the group platform. Please endeavor to get across to your reading partner for the week as soon as possible.

Have a wonderful week.

”

“Just great,” I sigh under my breath, really exasperated, as the weight of the day finally begins to take a toll on me. “Now, it’s not just today that’s ruined. The entire week is now.”

“What?” Jasper says over the car radio that is now playing loud enough to morph out any other noise in the area. He speeds up now, racing closer to his house.

I’m pretty sure he just passed the speed limit a few seconds ago.