"Thank you, come again," Casey said the pleasantry she'd uttered so, so many times before with a bit of a sigh.
The fluorescent lights in the small drugstore, yellowing, aging and occasionally flickering, were getting to her head. Things seemed a bit too bright and she thought maybe a migraine was settling in behind her left eye.
The store was slow that afternoon, with the odd shopper lazily browsing the aisles, reading the backs of various supplement and medicine bottles, furrowing their brow in concentration before more often than not, leaving it where it had been sitting. Mothers and fathers attended by distracted or wailing children came in and rushed to leave as quickly as possible to continue attening to their schedules, calendar alerts dinging on their mobile phones.
In Casey's pocket there came a dull buzz, and her heart lifted gently, thinking it might be Vickie. She'd recently been told not to use her phone on the 'floor,' but decided to check it anyway, as all that had been on her mind recently was Saturday, Saturday...
She felt her lips pull into a warm smile; it was Vickie replying to her earlier text. Her contact name above the text, surrounded by smiling emojis, was a familiar sight. She knew her name was still saved the same on Vickie's phone.
Yes! I'd love too. Cant wait- meet you there @ 9:45 for pregame?????
Casey looked quickly around the store. It seemed to be empty save for her, behind the register, so she chanced it.
Perfect, c u then :)
She was buzzing with excitement. She'd missed Vickie, deeply, if she were to be honest with herself. She'd been disappointed in watching how life had tugged them apart, and the thought of foamy bowling alley beer and strange neon colors sounded newly promising. She thought maybe she'd become too uptight. Vickie always had a way of helping turn the key lodged in her back on and into action, namely the of the party-variety.
She remembered fondly the trip they'd taken together upon graduation to see the Grand Canyon, how they'd climbed to the top of their rented RV one night, paid for with the sums they'd gathered from summer jobs, collected in a large, blue, stereotypical piggy bank they'd smashed with glee. The sky had been so clear that night, the stars like mini-LEDs in the sky, their true colors more apparent and unique. The smell of the dry, dusty air, and the sound of the crickets came back to her in reverie. She remembered feeling at home in that thirsty land, where the evenings glowed a deep orange.
She tapped her fingers steadily on the countertop, waiting to leave. She smiled as Tom, a coworker of hers who manned the Photo department, (its customer base ever-aging,) passed by her with a wave, struggling to do so as he carried what appeared to be a pretty heavy box. Soon he was back over in his department, stocking something from said box.
He was a bit younger than Casey, very tall, with curly blonde hair. His hair stood out far from his head. He seemed to originate from it, and not the other way round. He had always been kind to her, and talked of things Casey knew nothing of- he was, though always seeming a little stoned, quite smart, and would talk endlessly about what he'd most recently learned, discussing topics ranging from physics, to coding, to the history of rural agriculture somewhere across the Atlantic.
She brought her pictures to him when they needed developing. He was best for the job. He knew how she liked them to look upon printing, and was good at enlargements.
Casey's portfolio had grown quite thick. She often liked to pull to the side of the road if she caught the sun going down just right. She'd photograph an odd sticker on a stop sign or a duck that seemed to be watching her. She sometimes snuck pictures of the strangers around her, on their way to this or from that. She'd catch someone waiting at a lonely bus stop. She didn't really share those, but she treasured them. Having those pictures was like having characters from a dream to study- a face that could maybe be familiar, but in all actuality, was entirely alien. They could be anybody, they could have any personality, they could have done anything... She thought most of them had probably, in their lives, done more than she had, but, then again, maybe not. Maybe, she thought, maybe the world is full of simple lives, and full of simple fear. She thought, I don't want to live like that, though. I want to feel real, feel for real some time.
HASSAN:
Hassan stood in front of the mirror in his small room, with its comfortable chair sighing under the weight of his laundry, and its twin bed with aged stripy sheets crumpled atop it against the wall. He grazed his face with his fingertips, looking into his own eyes. He felt, oddly, as though he didn't recognize himself. He felt a small wave of repulsion and anxiety knotted in his stomach.
Downstairs, he could hear the loud chatter of his family members as they got ready to eat, the tinkling of silverware as the table was dressed. He decided on the blue shirt, a basic deep blue tee and jeans. He thought maybe he'd dress up more earlier, but now felt that might be wrong, might be obvious. He tried to swallow his thoughts down and push the lingering ones to the back of his brain, but her face, Casey's face, kept bobbing to the surface like a floating duck in a tub- her delicate smile, how she threw her head back when she laughed. He felt all wrong about it.
Mary wouldn't be going that night, and it made him sad. A booming laugh from downstairs made him sigh. It wasn't right for her to try and make him choose. He wanted to be near his family; he wanted to be near his Daada and Maa, but she wanted something "new." He couldn't blame her. He was tired of Lysoling shoes and cleaning up after children, and drunk adults... which he'd come to learn were basically the same thing working the alley. Still, there was something about arriving early and helping to condition the lanes, so shiny he could almost see his face in them, and sandpapering the pins smooth.
Hassan could see his life continuing the way it was. He ached for the early days. He ached for the summer after they'd graduated. He could see Mary lying there, her back against the wall, quiet snores escaping her lips as she slept peacefully, sunlight beginning to pool at her feet. He remembered curling into her for warmth, as though she were the sun finally rising after an achingly cold night, before she'd have to leave in secret. But, lately, the opposite had felt true. Being around her felt too hot; he could sometimes almost see the anger rising from her as though it were heat waves and she might spontaneously combust. Their car rides, which used to be long ones into the night and without purpose, were now errand-only, and short, electrified with loud music to escape any unwelcome pauses.
She wanted to move near her sister on the west coast, to smell the salty air, and run along the beach. Hassan wanted to curl into a ball and float away into space, to drift in peace. The strange, cold numbness he'd lately been feeling was only growing, filling him more daily, and now it had become a challenge to keep it off his face.
A single knock came, loud on his door. It had always startled him, the way his father knocked. He rolled his eyes a little, throwing on his jacket after deciding the blue would do.
"Hassan.. Dinner." His father's voice came through from the other side. "Will you be ready after?"
"Yes, Pita," he replied.
He could hear his father's footfalls as he went back down the hall. He sighed softly, taking one last glance at himself. He thought maybe his reflection could tell him something he didn't yet know, but he was met with only his own blank expression.
He readied himself for dinner, for the coming questions about whether or not he'd signed up for courses, and about where Mary was that night.
CASEY:
"What the fuck?! Are you serious? Oh my god! Tell me everything!" Vickie was practically shouting in the mostly empty lot.
Casey lowered her head in embarrassment but chuckled. "Shoosh," she said, shaking it slightly, "It was nothing." She thought of the time she'd spent with Hassan in the park and couldn't help grinning.
"Nothing? Oh, yeah right. You've only loved the guy your whole life." Vickie smiled a wide smile at her, tucking a stray strand of her short dark hair behind her ear.
"Well, we just talked, and..." Casey paused at the oddness of it, "Went down the slide a few times."
"Well fuck me sideways, that's cute." Vickie leaned back against her car, an old beat up Tahoe with a million-and-a-half things hanging from the rear view. Inside, it smelled of cigarettes and sweet perfume.
Casey laughed as Vickie underhandedly passed her back the Schapps shooter they'd been sharing. It puckered her mouth and burned. She hadn't planned on drinking, and then hadn't planned on drinking much. That was still the plan, but already she felt a warm humming in her bones. That was just a consequence of Vickie's presence.
Being near her friend was adding to the buzz, too. She'd missed her, and had told her so. The pair had wiped away salty tears gathered in their eyes after they'd shared secrets left unsaid in the car, like how Vickie had fallen for a guy in her art class, and that she felt he might as well have literally ripped her heart out and stomped on it when they'd broken up, leaving it a pulpy mess to be studied with charcoal. It was startling to realize, for Casey, that she'd never even met the guy. It really had been too long; she'd been caught in the web of her own mind, and, like Casey had benefited from having a friend with a wild edge, Vickie benefited from having a friend to dull said edge and suggest alternatives when needed, (or available.)
"I don't know, Vickie. It's stupid. I've tried to get over him over the years. You know I have."
Vickie nodded in recognition.
"But- I just feel so... I don't know. I feel different when I'm around him. But, it doesn't matter anyway," Casey shrugged, "he has a girlfriend."