Jessie & Elizabeth (abandoned)

4. No Backsies

Bubbles spilled over the edge of the sink, dripping down to the white tiled floor. The kitchen smelled like spoiled lemons and pizza grease, and that was exactly what I felt like, wiping the sweat from my forehead with a soapy arm. The other dishwasher pursed his lips at the sight of me pausing again. Wouldn't be long before they'd fire me.

I'd been working there for two weeks now, after a friendly woman from the Rainbow Cactus had set up the gig for me, but I'd known from the start I wouldn't last long. Although visibly, my cerebral palsy only affected my legs and made me walk kind of limpy, it did, in fact, influence my arms too, although much less so. Jobs that required working with your hands all day, like this one, exhausted me quickly: only a few hours into it, my muscles would go stiff and tight and even hurt nearing the end of a shift. Like Ma would say: Jessie was made for the finer things in life because a real job would be the end of her.

The door to the kitchen swooped open, and the happy head of Aleema appeared from behind it. My stomach lurched. Two weeks, and I was already getting the sack. That must be some kind of record. "Jessie, honey," she said, in her deep, low voice, "I have a gorgeous woman here asking for you."

"What? Who?"

Aleema chuckled. "How many gorgeous women do you know? And where have you been hiding them?"

Despite all that happened in the last few weeks, my brother telling me he needed his couch back soon, my Mimi refusing me cash, and Lennox posting a picture on Instagram with a new girlfriend in The Netherlands, I managed to smile. "I can't tell you that. You'd all take them from me in a second."

Aleema was still laughing when I followed her into the dining room area, past cheap plastic furniture made to look like wood and a green plastic stick made to look like a Bird of Paradise. For a short moment, I hoped it would be Lennox — that she was back, realizing she made a mistake, and was ready to pick up where we left off. Only Aleema knew her and would've reacted very differently, so I had absolutely no idea what other gorgeous woman would come to see me.

Oh. That gorgeous woman.

I stopped dead in my tracks. Right there, waiting by the cash register, was none other than Elizabeth Canfield. Maybe it was because I knew her character, but I would've never thought to describe her as gorgeous. Mean, cold, and icy, more like. Though, standing there in the fluorescent lights that usually made everyone's skin color unflattering, I could see what Aleema meant, with her solemn gaze, flawless hair falling down her back in waves, dark brows sharp and pronounced as she looked into the distance, her hands buried in the pockets of her beige woolen wrap coat. She was too elegant for a restaurant like this one, sticking out like a sore thumb. What on earth was she doing here?

"Well, you can have her," I blurted out. "I really don't know if I want to see her again."

At that moment, though, her gaze shot in my direction, and, spotting me, she stood up straight, chin in the air, as if readying herself for a fight. Alright. Too late. Best get on with this. I approached her, trying to look fierce, but fact remained I was the one here in an apron speckled with pizza sauce and melted cheese, and she was the one who had coordinated her earrings with her shoes.

"Hello, Jessie," she said, her eyebrow arching slightly as she took in my appearance.

"Hello, ma'am," I answered. I was blushing again, furiously this time, even though I had no reason to. "Are you here... to see me?"

She stepped closer and said, with a straight face: "No, I just happened to be in the neighborhood."

I stared at her, my mouth half-open. What was happening? Had she just... made a joke?