Food Court

I remember waking up on the floor of the dressing room with a terrible crick in my neck. I rubbed my eyes and squinted in the mirror. My ironed-straight hair was frizzed at the part and a thumb-sized hickey peeked out from under my terry zip-up.  I couldn’t remember who’d given it to me, which—if I’m being honest, not hugely shocking.

Two angry knocks and then: “Caitlin, are you seriously asleep in there again?”

I smoothed my hair in the mirror and wiped spittle from my lip. If they didn’t want us sleeping in the dressing rooms, they shouldn’t have made the lighting so dim. “No, I was just—“

“I swear to god, Cait, this is the last time, you hear me? I catch you sleeping on the job again and you’re fired.”

Honestly, I was kind of shocked I’d held on to this job for as long as I had.

I spent the rest of the morning shift on my best behavior. I folded and steamed; dusted the surfboards on the walls; covered every last inch of the store with SoCal clothing spray until my lungs ached. I was awake and vigilant in a way that couldn’t be explained by my brief dressing room nap. I felt I could spot a wrinkle from across the store, a collar folded inside out. It was as if months of being forced to work in low lighting conditions had finally forced my eyes to adapt.

I wasn’t even going to take my lunch break—not after the sleeping stunt I’d pulled—but then Marissa said, “It’s fine, Cait, take an hour. But that’s it!!” and it wasn’t like I was gonna argue with her.

I stepped out into the mall and was temporarily blinded by sunlight flooding through the skylights. I pulled my hood up over my head and texted Hayden: “Panda in five?”

We met at the food court. This was our ritual. I’d get orange chicken and he’d watch me eat it, because he never ate himself. To be honest, I think Hayden might have had an eating disorder. He worked at Hot Topic, was skeleton-thin, and had this deathly pallor that made me think he suffered from a serious lack of nutrition. Scene-kid black bangs spilled over his forehead. He would have been pretty attractive if not for the whole deathly look. Well, even considering.

“I bet when people see us eating together,” he once told me, “they think it’s because you take pity on me.”

“If people think that, it’s because that’s the energy you’re putting out,” I told him. “You can sniff confidence from a mile away.”

That was back when I was still dating Ryan. But we’d broken up last week (thank god), and now I felt a tingling all over my skin as I waited for Hayden. I poked at my rice with my chopsticks but had no appetite. Greasy food smell was making me sick. And was it brighter in here than normal? I pulled my hood down as far as it would go.

When Hayden finally arrived, he gave me a funny look.

“What?” I rubbed at my lower lid. Was my eyeliner smudged? “What is it?”

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?" But then I remembered. “Oh, you mean after last night.”

Ryan and I had been broken up for a full week, but last night he made an unexpected appearance. He showed up at the store while I was working the register, insisting we needed to talk. When he wouldn’t leave, I had to call security. Afterwards, I was sure he was waiting for me in the parking lot and made Hayden walk me to my car. Sure enough, there was Ryan, leaning with arms crossed against my driver side door of my silver Civic. 

Hayden told him to get lost. For three seconds, the two boys stared each other down like growling dogs. I was terrified Ryan would throw a punch, but then suddenly his face went pale and he stuttered, “What… what… what are you?” Then he scampered off like a scared rabbit.

I‘d turned to Hayden, impressed. “Wow. You really learned how to project confidence, didn’t you?”

God, Ryan was an ass. What did I ever see in him?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I told Hayden now. “Haven’t heard from Ryan in—” I checked my Baby-G watch. “Almost 12 hours. But my shift’s only half over, so…”

Hayden made a funny face and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Cait, what do you remember from last night?”

“Last night? What do you… you mean what happened with Ryan? Or…”

“After that.”

After that? After Hayden walked me to my car and shooed Ryan away, I—well I… I… I…

I rubbed at my forehead. It was starting to throb. God, it was so freaking bright in here! I couldn’t think straight. Did I go out last night? Get so black-out I didn’t even remember it? “Hold on,” I told Hayden. “I think I’m actually really hung over.”

Hayden bit his lip. “Crap. You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember…?”

He shook his head. “I’ve read about this sort of thing happening. After someone undergoes a… Shit. Can we find somewhere to talk in private?”

“Sure,” I said, but when I looked down at my watch, I realized I was already running over on lunch. “Shoot!” I shot up from my chair. “Gotta run! I’m late for work and I’m already skating on thin ice! Catch up later?” 

“Cait, wait!” I heard Hayden call as I sprinted out of the food court, but I couldn’t—not after this morning.

It was weird, but as my shift went on, I felt sicker and sicker. It was like knowing that I had a hangover somehow made it worse. My whole body ached. My stomach growled with hunger but the thought of food made me want to puke. My mouth had started doing this weird chewing thing, and at one point I shrieked from biting my tongue. And my sense of smell—that was off too. Even though I’d doused the whole place in clothing spray, I smelled people-smell everywhere: sweat, saliva, body odor. It made me dizzy as I ferried clothes to and from the dressing rooms. I was feeling so bad, I probably would’ve tried to sneak a second nap in there if it wasn’t so busy.

Finally, blessedly, my shift came to its close and Marissa told me I could close up shop. I slid the shuttered doors closed all but a crack, so that people would know it was time to scoot. I gave all the display tables one last fold-and-smooth pass. I checked my phone. I had about a hundred missed texts from Hayden, but I didn’t get a chance to read any of them, because all of the sudden there was a hulking man in front of me carrying two armfuls of polos.

He grinned wide. “I want to try some stuff on.”

“Ryan, screw off. We’re closed.”

“Not yet you’re not.”

“We’re closing.”

“I thought the customer was always right.”

“You want me to call security again?”

I stared him down. He grinned at me gamely. I reached for my phone but paused when my stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl.

Ryan chucked. “Glad to hear you’re still craving me.”

But actually? I sort of was. All at once, everything in my peripheral dimmed, and Ryan was all I could see. His meaty arms, blood pulsing through every bulging vein. The dark capillaries hanging under his bloodshot eyes. And his smell. Oh, his smell! In the whole two months of our relationship, he’d never smelled so temptingly,  irresistibly delicious.

I took a long, savoring breath. 

“You know what, Ryan? Fine. You win this time.” I l took the clothing from his arms, locked the door to the shop, and led him to the dressing room.