Fuck it.. None of this matters anyway.
I snagged my jacket from the shower-rod, catching one last glance in the mirror and that same hurtful pang dropped into my stomach as it had every day for years. I've tried to place this feeling many times, but it wasn't the annoyance of a teacher calling me out because I never participated. Not quite the resentment or anger when mom lovingly told the story of deciding to birth me, knowing she had nothing, like it was some saint-like decision not aborting me like her mother wanted. Those emotions trickled through as if I were a leaky faucet, one wasted drip at a time.. but this feeling formed jagged ice and blue-flame fire, both fighting sublimation inside of me. Until I honestly didn't care whether there were ashes or icebergs left.
No noise for forty-five minutes, they must have passed out good this time. Slowly, I turned the flakey painted doorknob, putting slight upward pressure on the door as it opened, enough that the hinges worked with me to stay quiet. Boots in hand, soft steps down the hall. Normally I wouldn't give a damn waking the bastard after he got back from a three week hitch, but he came back in a foul way after losing hands of cards and I don't have time to stir that pot of boiling crap.
3:44AM
Peggy swirled around my legs, surely wanting food, as I also debated checking the kitchen for anything edible. Unlikely. I scooped up the nappy cat before she could interrupt my quiet get-away, poured out a bit of kibble then slammed the door shut as I left. Screw their sleep, I pulled my boots on, hood up and descended the rickety stairs of the tattered building we've called home for as long as I can remember. Something about the stray cat never going hungry, unlike us, pissed me off. I do feel bad for Peggers though, being stuck in that unit for life after mom abducted her from around a market dumpster she was diving in.
3:50AM
This never gets easier.. Having a real job.. About a year ago when I turned sixteen my mom was doing alright by her terms and actually bought a two-dollar box of cake mix for me. She rarely cooked more than breakfast and microwave meals so it was a shock to see her pulling a small round cake pan out of the oven that afternoon. I savored the warm cake and the unit smelled like a bakery instead of the usual musty, dusty odor. It was one of the lonely times she seemed independent, free and capable. I knew that when I turned seventeen in a couple weeks she may not remember my birthday again, but that's not new. Her husband, Paul, came in from the job a couple days later to see a leftover cake pan in the cold-box and determined it was time for me to get a job and start "contributing to the household, unless I was useless like my mother".
He didn't know I had been finding odd jobs since I was thirteen within my classes, but he also didn't question how we survived, while gone for weeks, without any money coming from my mother. That was when I asked Lenny for a job at the dough shop. Mostly, it was to get free food but he was excited to have the help, and even if it meant waking up at 3AM, I liked working while the world slept.
I lit a smoke and stopped at the back corner of Legume's Dough Shop. Watching the smoke roll off of my breath, mixing into the darkness of the sky, feeding the hushed lighting of the street, it was one of my favorite parts of having this damned job. The quiet.
"Hallo Lùce, how goes it?", I heard him from my left and jumped a bit.
"Ah, it goes, Barn.. You're here early.", I managed to stammer out. Almost choked from the a-hole popping up like that.
"Yeeep, two ticks til four, don't want to be late.", Barn hobbled through the side door with a disapproving glance and a breeze carried the smells of glazed bake and maple sausages toward me. Another part I favored, Legume's smelled amazing at all times.
Barn, however, was probably my least favorite part of this job. He was an older guy who seemed displeased by everything and happy about it. Here to barely work and criticize those who are. Not sure why Lenny keeps him around but he's normally on the mid-morning shift. I stamped out the dying end of my joint and went to clock in, wishing I had packed a bit more in it since my quiet morning just got derailed.
+
Just as suspected, Barn was already complaining by the time I followed into the shop. The last three hours of my life were not what I signed up for when I opened my eyes this morning. There wasn't one task, one pastry that was made without hearing him grumbling over some mild annoyance. By the time six o'clock struck and Lenny walked in the door I was ready to run out. By seven o'clock I was practically combusting when Barn messed up the flow of sausage biscuits and a regular customer brought back a slightly doughy, undercooked biscuit. Our opening hour customers are the best in my opinion. Never rude or impatient, but counted on consistency since Legumes was one of the only bakes for twenty miles.
I clocked out a few minutes after seven and snagged a fresh butter roll before Lenny strolled out of the back office.
"Off to classes?", Lenny asked and picked up the sales sheets from the front counter.
I stopped by the door to face him and could see Barn at the back oven, struggling to slide out a pan of loaves, "Yeah. Y'all have a good day Mr. L."
"Sorry about this morning, Lùce. I know Barn isn't the strongest assist for the opening crowd, but with Della no-showing the past few days I had to move some people around at the last minute. We'll be back to normal soon.", He said this non-chalantly, but I knew it was mainly himself that he moved around to cover all the shifts so as not to disrupt his four-person-team's preferred schedule. He really needed a win.
"No worries, I'll see y'all tomorrow.", I said as I stepped out into the warm day. The brightness blinded me and I quickly started fumbling for sunglasses in my backpack. Road ways to ORG was busy by this time. Post-carts were delivering to homes, upper-class workers traveled to the city, families commuted to the prayer temples. More and more younger kids were starting to flood the streets on the way to organization classes compared to when I started attending.
The Organization was the lone governed place where kids were sent within the limits of Sarolle to "Gain skills that define our land". If only the governing body of our great cities could really see what skills were being learned in ORG classes. The lack of substance in ORG makes the current-day outcome of people like Barn make more sense to me.