Yours or Mine: Dreams on the Sandwich Line

"There's already people lining up outside," said Rebecca by the front window from which she peeked out. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but punctuated by loud groan that resonated all too well with me as it carried across the sandwich shop to where I stood preparing table settings for the Home for the Hollindaise gourmet sandwich and sauce tasting event. We had been advertising it for months leading up to the first weekend of December and it had clearly paid off. The familiar feeling of dread that preceded every event we hosted at PB&J's reared up from the knot it had made in my stomach so it could also coil around my chest. I ignored it. Years of working in customer service jobs amounted to an effective, if questionable, form of exposure therapy for my social anxiety — at least while I was on shift. Which felt likes always these days.

"Figures that the customers would be here before Paige," said Toby as he worked on the finishing touches of holiday decorations for the shop's house-made sauce display. "Toby." My voice carried a soft warning despite the brevity of the reprimand. Though the comment wasn't unjustified. Paige Brooks, the woman who put the PB in PB&J's, was late for everything. Literally everything. She had never been on time in the seven years I had worked with her. That was why I adjusted my own hours to come in extra early when I made the schedule the week before. As I did for every event since taking on the role of manager six of the seven years ago. Paige always apologized and thanked me. She always said she felt guilty and insisted that she didn't expect me to cover for her and that she would be on time for the next event. I believed her sincerity, but trusted the history. Much like me coming in early, her claims were an established routine.

Her chronic lateness probably had something to do with the fact she juggled running a small business with having a family. Which a lot of people managed, but Paige also had a crippling inability to say no when people asked her for help. A.K.A. kindness, and people took advantage of that fact regularly. That was how she ended up the president of the city's chamber of commerce, helping a rival business figure out their own menu, preparing post-game meals for the sports teams her kids were on, and volunteering to personally host the weekly planning meeting for her parents' senior citizen club on the one day a week PB&J's was closed to the public. Just to name a few. And somehow, I ended up roped into helping in almost every time.

"You know I'm right, Gen."

I pretended I didn't hear Toby muttering under his breath. I didn't want to engage in his traditional preshift grumbling. All I wanted to do was make it through my double so I could go home in time to see my partner before they went to bed to wake up early for their own job and finish a painting I had been chipping away at for the last several weeks to meet a gallery show deadline a friend had gone out of their way to secure for me. It wasn't the kind of chance that had "big break" written all over it, but it was the proverbial foot-in-the-door I had been looking for even before my first day at PB&J's. It felt like another lifetime. I used to paint every day and now I had to squeeze it into pockets of so-called free time. If I had the energy and that was almost as rare of an occasion as the gallery opportunity.

Fortunately, Toby dropped his complaint and as if on cue, the familiar alarm of a door opening chimed through the air. The front door was still locked for another ten minutes which meant only one thing. Paige Brooks had finally arrived.

She swept through the hall toward us. An oncoming storm of frantic energy barely contained in her five-foot-nothing form. Wisps of second day hair twisting free from her trademark messy bun framed worn features currently pulled into a contrite expression.

"Oh my gosh, guys! I'm so sorry we're late. Marcus' practice ran longer than I expected and then I had to stop by the store to grab the rest of the ingredients for the event. It was an absolute madhouse! I should have gone during his practice, but I was helping Mikey plant flowers for his school project and-"

Paige would have continued ad infinitum if her oldest son, Marcus, didn't snatch the grocery bags from her hands. "Yo," he said by way of greeting before retreating back down the hall and to the kitchen to start prepping the food. He had been helping Paige in the back-of-house since he turned fifteen. His one year anniversary at the shop had been less than a month ago. Her whole family actually helped out in various ways with the exception of Mikey, her other son, and only because he was too young.

"Thanks, Marcus," I said to his disappearing form before my eyes settled back on Paige who was trying to smooth her hair back down in a nearby mirror used for wall decor. "Front-of-house prep is all done and we open in ten. Is there anything else we can help with?" Paige turned around. Her face had smoothed out into her business mode mask. I could feel my own face adopting the same look that insisted I felt more energetic and upbeat than I actually was. I didn't need to know that the same happened for Rebecca and Toby. It was as much a part of our uniforms as the t-shirts we wore the PB&J's logo.

"I think Marcus and I can handle it! Plus J will be coming in once he gets off work to help out."

J, more formally known as Jerome Brooks, was Paige's husband and the J in PB&J's. His day job kept food on the table for Paige and the boys while she tried to keep food on the customers' tables at work in turn. I heard Toby try to hide a sigh with a cough from behind me. J was the exact antithesis of Paige. Where she was bubbly and outgoing, he was surly and silent. When I had first met them, they seemed to be an odd pair. I soon realized that they balanced each other out. Though these days their differences seemed to grow as the stress from keeping up with everything took its toll on both of them.

I would never say it out loud, but sometimes looking at Paige's life from the outside felt like watching a ship sink. Yet through all of it, Paige still maintained a certain sense of grace rooted into her compassion, generosity, and genuine enthusiasm for what she did. It was why we were friends. It was, I told myself quite often, why I bent over backwards trying to make her dream work to the point my own dream limped by on late nights, atrophied muse, and creative fumes. Again my mind turned toward the painting waiting for me at home and before I could take a moment to indulge in the spark of hope it offered, Paige made an addendum to her statement.

"Actually! I forgot to ask if you could stay later tonight. The newspaper reached out a couple of weeks ago about doing an article on the shop for its five year anniversary. They're calling it, "Better with Paige." Like better with age! Isn't that great? Anyway, I figured I could do it tonight so they could try what we have left over from the event and they agreed, but then they mentioned wanting to bring some of the other newspaper staff with them. It's free publicity and I could really use you here for it."

"I-"

"Oh! Don't worry, I know it would put you into overtime, but I'm okay with eating the cost on it for this. The shop needs this bad. Especially with Sunnyside Cup dipping into our regular customer base now."

"I-"

"It also might bring in some new hires which I know we're desperate for so you can stop trying to perform miracles with the schedule each week."

Toby and Rebecca were staring hard enough at the two of us that I could tell even with them to my back. I had told everyone about the deadline for my painting entry multiple times and I had told them all about how important it was to me. This was my dream and once again Paige was unaware that she was asking me to put hers before mine. Not to mention last minute.

The dread I had felt about the event soured further. Bitterness sharpened the feeling until it was actively painful and not just an ache I could ignore. My mask faltered. Paige didn't notice because her focus had shifted to the bustling crowd outside the front. She assumed my answer would be yes. It always had been, so why bother actually waiting for confirmation?

"Paige," I started, but she was already talking again, lost to the hyper-fixation that came with being able to wholeheartedly throw oneself into their dream. I envied that. Then, in a striking moment of clarity, I realized that the resentment I was starting to feel wasn't Paige's fault. Not fully, at least. It was partly my own. She expected the sacrifice because I had freely given my time, energy, and skills to her cause instead of my own because when it came down to it, it was easier. Safer, even.

"We could probably start letting people in now so we can go over how the sandwich and sauce tasting works."

"Paige," I said, trying again in spite of my heart beating wildly against its cage both in regards to the ribs that housed it in the very literal sense and the more figurative hold I had placed it in with my fear of simply trying for myself instead of someone else. My boss, my friend, looked back at me. Concern tinged her eyes.

"What's wrong, Gen?"

"I quit."

I wasn't the only one that couldn't believe the words that came out of my mouth. Three voices erupted with a surprised, "What," all at once. "Not right this second," I said to backpedal though part of me craved the freedom that would come by walking out of the door right then and not worrying about anything that happened at the shop ever again. Though I knew that wouldn't be the case after a few weeks. Paige, as well as Rebecca and Toby, were my friends. I still wanted the best for them, I had just finally come to terms with it being okay to want the best for me too.

"I'll finish my shift for the event today, but I can't stay late and I won't be available to work here afterward."

"Where is this coming from all of sudden," Paige asked. It was obvious she was hurt and panicking. "It isn't all of a sudden, Paige." Rebecca and Toby continued to gawk. Even customers were peering through the window now as the opening time ticked ever closer. "I honestly should have done it a long time ago, but part of me was scared and the other part of me was worried about how you guys would get along without me. These still concern me, but it's time we both figure out what we're going to do to make our dreams work, not just you."

Realization and understanding blossomed beneath the hurt. It wasn't a thing so easily dismissed, but it was made easier to digest. A few tears escaped the confines of Paige's eyes, but she managed to smile all the same before sighing and saying, "Alright, team. Let's make Gen's last day one to remember!"