Community Service

Community Service | Part Four

Community Service | Part Four

            In a whirlwind of frenzied motion, I spring into action, literally turning into circles as I grab my phone, charger, a hoodie, a box of mints, and my wallet and stuff them into my oversized bag. It takes me a minute as I struggle to put my dress on, accidently stretching the cotton and popping a couple of threads as my head goes into an arm hole. My hair is a mess by the time I am done, but I don't to look into the mirror and try to fix it, instead swinging my bag over my shoulder and racing down the stairs, locating my sandals behind a plotted plant.

            In my head, as I sprint out the door and hurriedly unlock my car, I am imagining all possible scenarios in my head. I'm going to get expelled for being late, I panic, and then I won't graduated high school, which even Ross will be able to do, and then I'll end up at community college and meet a pothead and get knocked up and be a baby mama and then my lovechild will turn into a drag queen and then I'll have to pay for all the makeup and wigs and then I'll die suffocating from all the glitter...

            My internal monologue is interrupted by the GPS, telling me to turn a left. My wheels squealing, my car nearly rolls over as I turn onto the street, nearly running over a brown Chihuahua sunbathing on the sidewalk. Pulse racing, I look into my rear-view mirror and breathe a sigh of relief as the dog runs back up the driveway.

           It takes a few more minutes and a wrong turn for me to reach the Sunny Hills Retirement Home, and by then, I am twenty minutes and forty-two seconds late to community service. Taking a second to run a couple of fingers through my messy hair and catch my breath, I exit the car and take a deep breath. My kids will not be glitterfied drag queens. I will not get knocked up in community college. Well maybe I will, but we'll see.

            Today, Ross and I are supposed to help the retirement home cook food, clean up the rooms, and entertain the retirees. It's simple enough and I'm not too worried that anything will explode today.

            I see Ross's truck parked sloppily a couple feet ahead and I grit my teeth and shake my head, trying not to think about the still-present penis on my carpet.

            The Sunny Hills Retirement Home is a nice four complex building with, shockingly, yellow painted exteriors and white trimming. There is even a white picket fence that borders the property to complete the homey look. Walking up the red brick path to the front of the center complex, I knock on the white double doors and take a step back, breathing in deeply the smell of hand sanitizer and lemon Febreeze, trying to contain my anxiety.

            It's Ross who opens up the door, sans a drawn penis on his face but with the same clothes on as yesterday, and I put on a fake smile on my face as he grins at me, gesturing me to come in.

            "You know you're twenty minutes late, right?" He asks, leading me down a hallway into the mess hall, where there a couple of old men loitering around talking about dentures. "Rough night?"

            "You're cute." I reply, gritting my teeth and balling my fists. There's not even a trace of Sharpie on his face, which irritates me beyond measure. Why can't there just be something wrong with him?

            Ross grins. "I'm guessing that was supposed to be sarcastic, but I'm going to take that as a compliment, Jen."

            I'm waiting for him to say something about bowing down at my feet and thanking me for feeding him enchiladas and drawing a penis on his face, but Ross doesn't say anything else as we enter the kitchen. There an old lady standing by the sink and she gives me a weird look as Ross tosses me an apron.