j a k e
Working can be exhausting, but volunteering is even more exhausting. At least when you work, you can smile and say, Oh, I'm getting paid, so it's all worth it! When you volunteer, the most you can get yourself to believe is, Oh, I may be ready to collapse, but at least I'm a good person!
George is still packing up his stuff off of his desk. He's taking his glorious time, while I sit on the spinning chair, trying my best not to explode out of impatience. Earlier, George had promised to take me somewhere, but just now I had declined and asked if we could go somewhere tomorrow instead, since it's a Saturday and neither of us have to get up early to go to the clinic. Besides, when school starts up again, I'll have to balance senior year, homework, and the clinic all at once, so I try to cerise as much sleep as I can.
Dinner for the patients is at seven thirty, but I can still hear the workers struggle with some stubborn ones who don’t want to go. After leaving Derek on his own, I hope that his roommate helped him around, and he's abiding by the rules. I know for a fact that the better off you are with the worker the better- and not abiding by the schedule on the first day isn’t a great first impression.
“Ready?” George says, finally finishing up his work. I leap up from my seat, eager to get home. George chuckles and I shoot him a small glare at his amusement.
We begin to walk to the entrance, George waving goodbye to a couple of workers on the way. I run ahead of him and into the summer air, where the sun is still up in the sky. The sun usually doesn’t set until nine thirty at this time of year, anyway, but after being exposed to only the bright lighting of the clinic, I find my eyes take a while to adjust. I bounce by the entrance until George comes out, shaking his head at my urgency to go home.
We get to the car in the staff parking lot, where I slip into the front seat, lean over to turn the keys, and quickly turn on the air conditioning. George slips in next and switches the gear, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Sleeping in tomorrow?” George teases me, looking over his shoulder as he drives in reverse.
“Yes,” I say, smiling. “Thank God. You never told me volunteering would be this tiring.”
George raises an eyebrow, “I thought you knew what was coming. Besides, doesn’t it feel good to help people?”
“Sure, yeah. Just get me home where there’s a bed.”
George rolls his eyes. “Dinner first, remember?”
I nod and we settle into a comfortable silence as George beings to zoom down the road. George turns on the radio, but since nothing good is playing, we keep it quiet. I lean my head against the window, my eyes closing just as George asks, "Any plans for tomorrow?"
Not opening me eyes, I reply, "I was thinking of hanging with Cleo and a couple of other friends. Is that alright?"
"What time were you thinking? Because we need to go to the clinic on Sunday."
I groan, "What? Since when do you work on Sundays? What is this monstrosity?"
I can practically hear George roll his eyes, "We're low on staff that day, so I offered for us to come in."
"Of course you did. Thank for asking for my consent."
"Anyway. Like I asked before, what time were you thinking?"
I open my eyes, but I continue staring out the window. The grass is a little wet from morning showers, but the burning sun has dried up any puddles. "Nothing later than two, so I won't be late. Don't worry."
