Jelly's

“No, no, no, no, I am not working at Jelly’s.” I looked at my mom in shock. We had been sitting at the kitchen table looking for jobs for three hours. My mother insisted I stay home for the summer and get a job in our tiny town in western Maryland. I wanted to go back to California and continue to stay with my roommate, Greta.

“But, Flora, they pay a good rate, and it’s just down the road.” She persisted, but no way I was working at Jelly’s, a convenience store that had been around since my mother grew up here, and her father before her. In other words it was old, and stank like a rotting sock. 

I pulled up a page on the San Francisco Modern Museum of Art. They were hiring an assistant conservator. This is what I had studied in college and something that would actually boost my career. So yeah. Not Jelly’s.  I stood up and stretched out my arms. 

“Well, it’s 5:30 anyway, I’m meeting Josh at 6.” I walked out of the kitchen to get ready to go. I was meeting Josh at Stanson. Stanson was a cute little diner downtown. If you could call Stanson and a dry cleaning service called “Laundry!” a downtown. Yes, you read that right. “Laundry” with the “!” .

I walked into Stanson around 5:55 and saw Josh already sitting at a table. He waved me over and he pulled me into a bear hug. I had known Josh my whole life. We went to the same school and he even lived on my street. We have always been super close even though he is a year older than me. He lives in Paris with his boyfriend and works at Le Cinq, one of the top rated restaurants in the world, as a chef. And he’s a year out of culinary school. I know, pretty badass compared to my prospects of working at Jelly’s.

We caught up on all the boring stuff, and then he asked me:

“ So what do you want to do now that you've graduated?” I shuddered. Do I dare tell him about Jelly’s, which was looking more and more realistic every hour?

“Um, well I applied for an assistant conservator job at a museum in San Francisco today, but my mom really wants me to work somewhere here for the summer. She suggested Jelly’s.” I tried to laugh but it came out like a hurt lamb. Oh dear. 

“Oh!” Josh said. “The, um, assistant job seems super cool.”

“Thanks.” An awkward silence filled the almost empty diner. 

“Come work for me!” Josh’s eyes widened. I cannot cook an egg and he wants me to work in one of the nicest restaurants in the world? I laughed. He was definitely joking.

“No, I’m serious. Le Cinq is in a super old, beautiful building that needs a lot of help. You could live with me until you get a place of your own!” He seemed so excited, but I stared blankly. 

“Paris?” 

“Yes! It’s perfect, you already go to France to visit your father so much. I doubt it would be hard to get you a Visa.” 

“I have dual citizenship.” I mumbled. My parents split up when I was little, and my dad moved to France for a huge job opportunity. It made sense for me to get dual citizenship because I would fly out so much. Josh shrieked when he heard this. 

“FLORA! It’s perfect! You can work for me, which will be so much fun, and then in the fall you can go back home, or,” he said with a grin, “work at a gallery or a museum and stay! There is one right down the street from where I live. You graduated from Stanford, Flora, STANFORD. Don’t you dare work at Jelly’s.” A smile crept onto my face. 

“Ok. I’ll think about it.” I whispered. “Would Le Cinq even hire me?” I said louder, realizing this probably wouldn’t even work.

“I’ll call my boss right now. You would be in charge of the art in the building plus designing renovations. You would have a construction team and everything. For Le Cinq being very expensive, the owner is cheap and does not want to hire a professional.” 

We said goodbye, and Josh said he would call me later that night. I would have to leave for the whole Summer in two weeks. If everything worked out Le Cinq would pay for half my fare to Paris. I would stay with Josh until I found an apartment to sublet for the summer. On the way home I got a call from Greta, my roommate, and one of my best friends. I knew I would have to tell her eventually so I decided now was as good a time as any. I picked up the phone.

“Hey, Greta I was just going to call you!” I said, desperately trying to sound normal.

“Really? I need to talk to you about this Summer. I don’t think I can live with you. I got The Grant.”  

The Grant. It consisted of Greta living in Paris for 6 months and working with a team to open a school for underprivileged kids. If it worked she would live all over the world opening schools. It was always a possible wrench in the plans but she was sure she wouldn’t get it. It was pretty cool, and I almost shat myself when I realized what was going on. 

“Greta, first that's amazing and I could not be more proud of you and second, Josh just offered me a job in Paris.”

Silence filled the phone, and then:

“NO, ohmygodFlorashutupthatisamazing.” We talked for a while, planning out every last detail. I only hung up because I got a text from Josh saying his boss loved the idea and would call me tomorrow to talk everything out. I was ecstatic. Living in a European city with my best friend. What could be better? All I had to do was tell my mom. I waltzed through the front door and my mom looked at me wide eyed. At first I thought she overheard me and Greta, but then she said:

“You got the job at Jelly’s!”

Oh dear.