Overworked and Exhausted

Darla had pulled over to the side of the road. She was changing her own flat tire instead of calling AAA like most people would. Her dad had taught her how when she was sixteen because he wanted her to be self-sufficient. She was frustrated because she was late for work at Lemonade and Lattes, the coffee shop where she worked. When she called her boss, Mary, she had told Darla it was fine. Mary had come in to open the coffee shop and she would stay until Darla could make it. When Darla got back in her car, she had beads of sweat dripping down her face from changing the tire. She licked her lips and tasted salt. She wished she could go home and take a shower, but she was already an hour late for work. She turned on the radio to listen to music, but she didn’t like any of it. Why isn’t there any good music on anymore? She thought. Then she felt like an old lady. A 28-year-old broke old lady who needed two jobs to pay all her bills including $100,000 of student loans.

When Darla got to work, she was frustrated and overwhelmed from her stressful morning. She was not in the mood to have a polite customer service attitude. At that very moment one of their regulars came in. Layla Sterling wasn’t the kind of regular who was friendly and made pleasant conversation with the barista. She was, in the nicest words Darla could think of, a spoiled brat. She had been raised with money, her parents had been able to buy her whatever she wanted, and they did. Darla had also heard through the town gossip that Layla had married a man who was at least twenty years older than her and made even more money than her parents.

Layla had walked in and was waiting impatiently at the register. She was wearing a tight red dress that Darla thought was a little too dressy for just doing nothing (which is what she assumed Layla did all day.) She had big, stylish sunglasses that were the same color as her dress, she still had them over her eyes even though it was not bright at all in the coffee shop. Her beautiful blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun.

“Hello, excuse me, you there.” Layla said.

Darla knew Layla knew her name, but she said politely, “What can I get you?”

“An extra hot latte, half almond milk, half oat milk, lots of mocha, just a pinch of cinnamon.”

When Darla gave Layla her latte she braced for a complaint, Layla always had at least one.

“This is not what I ordered! There is more almond milk than oat milk, there isn’t enough mocha, and there’s too much cinnamon. Make it again.”

“Of course,” Darla replied with a counterfeit smile.

Layla huffed and put her sunglasses on the top of her head. She seemed to have forgotten why she had left them on. One of her eyes was black, blue, and purple, it looked extremely painful.

“What happened to your eye?”

“Nothing, none of your business, I fell down the stairs.”

Darla was skeptical, “You fell down the stairs and only hurt your eye?”

“Yes, now make my latte it’s none of your business.”

“Have you gone to the doctor? Would you like some ice?”

“I hate doctors, fine I’ll have some ice.”

Darla suspected she knew the real reason Layla didn’t want to go to the doctor and she felt a twang of pity for her.  Although it vanished when Layla demanded, “Is my latte ready yet?”

When Darla got out of work from the coffee shop at 2 p.m. She decided to go home and rest before she had to be at her second job at the bar at 6. When Darla got to her apartment, she was excited to go to her bed and take a much-needed nap, but her mom was waiting in her apartment.

“Hi, Honey, how’s your day going?”

“Not great, I had a flat tire, so I was late to work, then at work I had to deal with Layla Sterling’s “rich kid” attitude. And now I’m exhausted, and I want to take a nap before I have to work at the bar in a few hours.”

“Well, it’s nice you’re able to have two jobs.”

“Mom, I only have two jobs so I can afford to live in my apartment and pay off my student loans.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t get loans and just take it slowly through college.”

“And just live with you and Dad forever? No, thank you.”

             “You used to be so cheerful, Sweetie, what changed?”

             “Life,” Darla sighed.

             “I saw this gratitude journal at a bookstore, earlier today. I thought it could help you be more cheerful again. You write three things you’re thankful for every day.

             “Perfect, today I’ll write I’m thankful for my flat tire and that I’m exhausted from working two jobs so I can live paycheck to paycheck.”

             “Please, just try it?” her mom asked.

             “Fine, Mom as long as you let me take a nap right now.”

             “Deal.”

             The next morning Darla woke up to her mom’s text, Good morning, honey! Don’t forget to start your gratitude journal today. Darla rolled her eyes, fine mom, she thought. She opened the gratitude journal and tried to think of three things she was thankful for. She thought for what felt like an eternity and couldn’t think of one thing.  Finally she wrote down she was thankful she didn’t have an abusive husband. Then she instantly felt horrible. Yeah, Layla wasn’t a very nice person, but no one deserved to be someone else’s punching bag. 

             Darla was pondering what had made her so cynical. She had gotten a master’s degree in social work because she had wanted to help people. But all the social work jobs she had found would require her to still have a second job to pay off her student loans. She would often be frustrated with herself for even getting a degree, all it seemed to give her was a ton of debt. Although, she did kind of give people free counseling at the coffee shop and especially at the bar. Maybe continuing to help people could help her not be so cynical.

Later that night, while working at the bar, Darla was trying to be more optimistic. Then, Layla walked in. Darla tried not to sigh audibly.

 Layla said, “Martini, two olives, on the rocks, please.”

Darla was taken aback; she had never heard Layla say please in her life. As she made the drink, she wondered if she should talk to Layla and ask how she was doing. Layla had never been nice to her, but Darla wondered if she looked beneath the surface if she would just see a person who was hurting. Darla gave Layla the martini and waited for a complaint.

“This is really good.”

Darla was surprised, she asked Layla how she was doing.

Layla said, “I’m fine,”

“How are you really doing, Layla?”

“Why do you care? I’ve never been nice to you.”

“That’s true, but I can tell you’re hurting.”

“Okay, well, I guess I don’t have anyone else to talk to. I’m pretty sure you know or at least suspected that my husband, Donald, gave me my black eye. Last night, when he got home from work, he asked me how much money I had spent yesterday. I said I wasn’t sure, maybe about 2000 dollars. He started yelling and swearing at me, saying I need to keep track of my spending better. He had gotten upset like this before, so I was terrified. I tried to slowly back out of the room. That made him furious; he came over and punched me in the face,” she pointed to her black eye, and pushed me down and started kicking me. When he was done, he told me he was so sorry, and he felt so bad and that it would never happen again. I want to believe him. I think I love him, or I guess I might just love his money,” her cheeks turned pink as she admitted that out loud. “I don’t really have anywhere to go except back to my parents’ house and my relationship with them is… complicated.”

“Really?” Darla was surprised.

“Yeah, I mean they always bought me whatever I wanted, but it was probably because they felt guilty for never spending time with me,” Layla was crying now. “I also know I’m a disappointment to them. My brother started a successful business and is making a lot of his own money. I partied my way through the college degree that my parents paid for, and my only accomplishment was marrying a rich jerk.”

Darla then realized she had so much to be thankful for. Her parents hadn’t been able to pay for college for her, but they had always had time to spend with her. They didn’t just tell her they loved her; they showed her they loved her. She wasn’t married and didn’t even have any prospects, but she had learned marriages aren’t always happy.

To Layla she said, “Your parents’ house sounds safer than living with Donald right now. I know you want to believe he’s sorry and he probably is, but that doesn’t mean he won’t do it again. He needs professional help.” She wrote down her phone number in case Layla needed someone to talk to.

“Thank you for being so nice to me. I know I don’t deserve it after I’ve been so rude to you. I hope we can be friends?” Layla looked hopeful.

“Of course,” Darla said a little nervously.

When Darla got home that night, she wrote down ten things that she was thankful for. One of the things was that she had a new friend…maybe. She would see if the friendship stuck.