Hearts and Heels

02 // in which jen gets her game on

          “Welcome to Lava Java. Your order, sir?” is what I should say. But instead, I’m suddenly rambling nonsense to a fifties looking man in a business suit, and eyebrows furrowed as he continues to watch me. I take deep breathes, yapping, “Okay, look, I’m sorry, but I’m kinda—oh goodness—in the middle of a breakdown. Please just don’t—don’t mind me, and tell, uh, tell me your order. I . . . I—“

          “Oh dear,” mumbles a female elderly, standing behind the wide eyed business man, who’s also clutching her chest.

          “I—I—I . . .” I trail off, sensing tears starting to form in my eyes.

          I look behind me, and catch Layla’s gaze. Receiving my look, she hastily jogs over to my side, and places a hand on my forearm. Smiling apologetically at the business man and elderly, she says, “I’m sorry. My friend here simply just has a hard time after a tragic incident. Please excuse her. I’ll take your order, sir.”

          Whispering a ‘thank you’ to her, I quickly lift up the entrance-slash-exit wood board, and make a run towards the girl’s washroom, covering my trembling lips with a hand. I push open the door, and am invited by different kinds of chemicals used to sterilize the room. Relieved that no one’s in here at the moment, I walk over to the sink, and take deep breathes, despite my tears flowing down my face. I can’t care any less right now, because I’ve been crying for days. Five days.

          Five days ago, when I found out that my boyfriend had been cheating on me with my best friend.

          I haven’t seen Seth or Melanie ever since that day, and I don’t know whether I should be happy, or not. Because a part of me wishes Seth to show up in front of me, and beg for forgiveness. I want him to apologize for what he’s done, and say that cheating on me is his biggest mistake of his life. But Melanie? I don’t know. Are we still friends?

          No. We can’t be friends. She should’ve known better, that girl; should’ve known that Seth was off limits.

          I groan, and my grip on the edge of the sink tightens as I think more and more about this matter to a point where I think it’s unhealthy.

          “Jen?”

          Staring at the washroom door and rubbing my tears away with the back of my hand, I say, “Uh, yeah, wait a minute.”

          Then, I turn the tap on, and wash my face thoroughly. And that’s when I hear the door swing open, revealing Layla in a Lava Java apron, a complete replica with mine. “What was that about?” she asks, jutting her hip out, and placing a hand on it.

          “Nothing.”

          She rolls her eyes while shaking her head. Sighing, she takes my wrist, and drags me out of the washroom, and trots over to the corner of the shop. I spot Tim in an empty booth right by the glass window, and my eyebrow raises. “What’s going on?” I inquire, as I carry on letting her drag me towards the booth.

          “We,” she emphasizes, plopping herself down next to Tim, mindlessly pushing him further to the wall hurriedly, “are going to have a talk.”

          I huff out a breath, and roll my eyes, as I sit down across Tim and her. “What now?” I grumble.

          Tim clears his throat. “You need to tell us what happened that night—“

          I start to get up and walk away from them, but he quickly stands up a little, grabbing my arms tight enough to hold me still, and certainly not even take a step. I whine, “Tim—“