Started as His Tutor

Decisions

I am never one to make quick decisions. I always hold back, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, or the things I could miss out on. No matter what I choose to do, I almost always regret it. It's a bad habit, but I never choose now. While making my own decisions, I take a century to make one, only to then instantly think that it isn't a good one, so the cycles continues. With others, I don't have the time to sit and contemplate. So when my friends ask me anything, I leave it up to them to choose. I let whatever group I choose to pick a topic for our project. I let my dad and sister pick out the toppings in our pizza. It's stupid, but even the smallest bad choices I make gives me the feeling that everyone around me would spontaneously combust.

"Wendy, we need more cones!" Ms. Ann calls from the front.

I try to balance the other containers of sprinkles, fruits, and syrups in my arms. Using only a few of my free fingers, I carefully pluck the box of cones off the storage rack and quickly return to the front. Once there, I release everything and it cascades onto the counter. My hands move fast, trying to reorganize things for Ms. Ann to use.

Ever since our Valentine's Day promotion the shop has been busy. I worry sometimes since I'm the only employee Ms. Ann has. I only work full days on the weekends, but I don't get to work on weekdays until 6, since I also have cooking club.

Our latest promotion has been the one-foot tall swirl cone, which has unique flavors switched daily. While it's helping Ms. Ann raking in money, we didn't expect how long and tedious it would be to balance so many swirls of cream onto a skinny sugar cone.

Nowadays, we close up shop really late. After tasting sweet success, Ms. Ann refuses to turn away any customers. Plus, our counters are a mess by the end of the day, and we have to restock on almost everything.

"Ms. Ann, you should hire some more people. It's getting too busy around here."

"Hell no! I'm going to invest my money into paying off my debt," Ms. Ann stubbornly refuses, counting the register cash.

"Still, you should at least get someone to help you on weekdays. You don't want to overwork yourself."

"That'll be the reason why I'm overworked. They'll just come along and mess everything up. I got you and that's enough," she insists.

"Ms. Ann, may I leave to go buy my sister some baseball gear?"

"You've been saying that for weeks now."

"Oh-well... The manager-he said that...it was out of stock-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go and gawk at Vincent," she chuckles, happily pocketing the day's revenue into her apron.

"I'm...not..."

"Whatever you say." She hums her way back into her office, now decluttered thanks to me.

I place my apron into my employee locker before making my way to the sport's gear shop. Since I've been going out too late, Vincent always leaves before I get to the shop. I always proceed by quickly scanning the place, my eyes not landing on any object in particular as I always fright what I came for, and awkwardly walk out the confusion of his coworkers. The same will probably happen today, but I can't help being drawn to go.

"Hi," a girl organizing the front display of water bottles greets.

"Hi," I reply, quiet in tone.