Her Name Was December

Day 8

Greyson returned to work on the day after Christmas. He stood behind the counter, rocking from heel to toe and trying to muster up his courage. He kept looking at the chair sitting at the table across from December, and he imagined her reaction if he were to sit down there. He stood in place for a long while, thinking of both the worst case scenario and the best. They were both equally ridiculous and unlikely, but he was paranoid by nature; so the bad outcomes seemed to stick in his mind. He could see her slapping him across the face, or worse- completely ignoring him. He nearly shuttered at the thought. After so long of letting his mind run unhealthily wild, his knees had nearly locked in place. He was more glad to work than ever before when a middle-aged woman tapped him on the shoulder for help.

“Excuse me sir,” she said, scrolling down on her phone’s screen. She squinted into the glowing light before holding it out to him. “Do you have this cookbook?”

She held it much too close to his face, and he had to lean back to see it clearly. It was one of Rachael Ray’s many publications, and Greyson hoped for this woman that they had it amongst the single shelf of cookbooks they stocked. “Let’s go see.” he said, smiling. His legs clicked a few times while he was leading her through the shelves. He held his finger up and ran it slowly be each book, skimming through the author’s last names. In reality, he knew exactly where Rachael Ray was- there were more middle-aged women than you would expect that went there on the hunt for new recipes. But, he stalled as long as possible at that shelf, dreading the moment where he would have to man up and take that seat.

“Ah, here it is!” the woman exclaimed. She had the book in her hands before Greyson had even reached the ‘P’s. She held it tightly in her hands like a prize, and flipped through the pages with glee.

“Do you want me to ring that up, ma’am?” Greyson asked awkwardly.

The woman scoffed. “Ma’am? Do I really look that old?” She started back towards the register.

“No, not at all.” Greyson said, following her. He felt awkward, and he was eager to fix his mistake. The woman just laughed, and her thick stomach bounced around a bit. He rung up the book with a cover picture of Rachael awkwardly holding a whisk and smiling. He was polite as he possibly could’ve been until the woman walked out the door. 

Again, he was faced with the menacing task of walking a few feet over and sitting in that damned seat. He remembered his aunt and his mother’s advice from the day before, and decided just to just ‘go for it’. He walked over and pulled the seat out from under the old wooden table a little too quickly, and sat down before he had the chance to change his mind. When he scooted the chair back in, it created an awful scraping sound against the floor. If December hadn’t yet raised her head from her notebook, he definitely had her attention now.

“Hi.” Greyson said.

December didn’t offer a greeting in return. “Did your boss send you over here again?” she asked, scribbling another note into the book.

“Kyle…? No, he hasn’t found out.”

“Good.” she replied. The only sound that could be heard then was the turn of a page, and the pen against the paper. Greyson scratched the back of his neck in silence, and December twisted the hair around her face in between her fingertips. She looked up at him after a moment. “Then… why are you here?”

Greyson was frazzled a bit. He didn’t expect for her to start conversation. “Um…” he said, at a loss for words. December didn’t say anything, she just kept reading as she waited for a response. “I wanted… to say hello?” Greyson said.

December laughed. “Alright then.” Another long moment of silence passed between them. She looked up and raised her eyebrows at him. “Go ahead.” she said, crossing her arms.

“Oh!” Greyson said in realization. “Hello.”

“Mission accomplished.” December said, grinning. She bowed her head back into the book of the day.

Greyson’s fists clenched together in habit and he looked around. The shop smelt of the cologne of some younger guy that was browsing at the beginning of Greyson’s shift. That, and the fact that December’s foot was slightly touching his whenever she would tap it- it all made the walls seem to close in on him. “How old are you?” he asked out of the blue.

“How old are you?” December countered.

“19.”

“18.” she said.

Greyson’s expression turned confused. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked.

She shrugged a little. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m taking a gap year, I guess.” Greyson told her. The strong scent of musty cologne was getting to him, now. “And you?”

“Left town on the day before graduation..” she told him. “Never going back.”

Greyson was confused. “Did you not do well in school?”

December laughed again. “I was valedictorian.” Greyson looked at her with a look of utter confusion. She sighed. “There were other things more important to me than a diploma.” she said. “I’m traveling the world, now. It was the best decision I’ve ever made.” Greyson nodded and she crossed her right leg over her left. “Living the dream.” she said. Greyson could hear the smile on her face behind the mask of hair that muffled her speech.