Call Me Ghost ✔️

Chapter Thirty-Five

When I pictured myself getting a job, I always imagined it being at some place I'd enjoy and relate to, like a bookstore, or a publishing house, or maybe even a library.

As I sit across from a girl named Mindy, who is the assistant manager of Frenchie's Coffee House, and looks like she's actually younger than I am, I realize my expectations may have been set a bit too high.

The interview lasts all of ten minutes, set inside the dingy excuse for an office at the back of the coffee house. Most of the questions are pertaining to my ability to work mornings and weekends.

I can't say I feel a whole world of self satisfaction when Mindy boredly remarks, "We'd love to have you on the team. What day can you start?"

"Uh, as soon as possible?" I answer with uncertainty.

"Great." Mindy sticks the edge of the pen she's been clicking this entire time into her mouth as she glances at the huge whiteboard calendar on the wall, "Come in Monday morning at 7, someone will be here to train you."

It all seems a bit unceremonious, especially when she blindly digs a couple of shirts out of a box beneath the desk and chucks them at me. But hey, at least it's a job.

The great thing about living with Ghost— other than the privacy to have sex literally whenever we want— is the fact that he doesn't have a mortgage to pay. His only house expenses are the utilities and internet. Which is super cheap in comparison to what average rent would be.

Despite Ghost constantly assuring me I don't have to pitch in for any bills, I'm no moocher. So getting a job was a personal goal for me. Not only for bills but also to start up some sort of savings. That's the smart thing to do.

I walk out of the coffee shop with the work shirts in hand, trying to feel like this is an accomplishment. I can always keep an eye out for better jobs while working there. And it won't be so bad. I do enjoy the smell of coffee, and the establishment has a very chill, carefree energy to it. Or maybe that's just Mindy's energy rubbing off on it.

I begin the short drive back to Ghost's place— I mean my place— but when I come upon a familiar road I decide to take a small detour. It's been a while.

Five minutes later the gravel is crunching beneath my tires as I park beside the entrance to the pet cemetery.

I kinda wish I had thought to pick up flowers or something on the way here, but I suppose in the long run it doesn't make a difference. I exit the car and make my way up the small cobblestone path, which I've come to know by heart from my occasional visits, though they're not as frequent as I would like.

I reach the laminate, stone plaque that rests solidarily beneath the shade of a large oak tree. I kneel down in the damp grass, not really caring about the muddy stains seeping into the knees of my nice jeans.

My hand reaches out to trace the name carved into the plaque. Daisy. I miss her. I quickly blink away tears as I stare at the simple etching of a daisy flower that embellishes her name.

"Hi, baby." I greet meekly, smiling at the flower, "You still being a good girl for dad up there? Tell him I say hi."

Given that my father's grave is a good two hour drive away, I've sort of been using Daisy's grave as a means of visiting both of them. I like to think that they're together anyway, wherever they are.

"Tell him life is going pretty good right now. Though you probably both already know that. Ghost has been such a light in my life. I honestly don't know how I was living before him. But dad probably doesn't wanna hear about that." I smile to myself, aimlessly picking at the grass by my knee, "Enough boy talk, right? I, uhm, I just got a job. It's nowhere great, just some coffee place, but I'm kind of excited."