Heteroflexible

“But that’s volunteer,” I protest. Tears are coming back to my eyes, but I’m not sure it has anything to do with my nose. “Those coaching positions don’t pay. I need money, Mr. Lemon. My ma, my pa, they’re depending on me. I need—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Parker. There’s …” He sighs. This is all taking a lot of effort for him to say. “There’s a strict no-violence-in-the-workplace policy I must abide by, and—”

“Then Anthony ought to be fired, too!”

“I’m afraid he wasn’t the aggressor here.”

I’m out of my seat at once. “This isn’t fair! Mr. Lemon, he—”

“Mr. Strong almost threw himself over the counter first.”

“Mr. Lemon …”

“I saw it all on the security camera. I’m sorry, Mr. Parker. I’ve tolerated the Strong boy’s frequent presence here for quite some time—all summer, really—but we’ve reached a point now where his presence is affecting my business.”

“But it wasn’t me who started the fight. I was just—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Parker. I have to let you go.”

I break eye contact with him, staring down at the box of tissues and the opened first aid kit on the desk, mouth agape, at a total loss of what to say or do.

Maybe there is nothing to say.

Maybe there is nothing to do.

“I’m sorry, Bobby,” he murmurs softly.

Somehow, his use of my first name for once elicits a stronger emotional reaction than any other thing right now. As my eyes try to fill up with more tears, a deep and heavy breath draws into my lungs, then escapes right out in a jagged and disheartened exhale.

I lick my lips.

I can still taste blood.

Despite the ball of unsettled emotion in me, I make myself be cordial. “Thanks, Mr. Lemon,” I tell him, then proceed to remove my suspenders, bowtie, and name badge. I place all three items on the desk. “I’ll drop off the rest of my uniform in the morning.”

“No rush. I’ll give you a good reference, Mr. Parker.”

He reaches to shake my hand.

I take it, then smile past my veil of tears and the pain still ringing in my numb, cold nose full of blood.

When I pass through the lobby on my way out, I don’t give the concession stand even as much as a glance. I don’t know whether Anthony is still there, or if Vince took over for him, or if there’s a fucking pink English-speaking pterodactyl serving popcorn now.

It’s none of my business anymore.

Jimmy’s truck sits down the street some ways, almost pulled up onto the curb. I give it a pained look from a distance.

Nothing feels good right now. Nothing at all.

One small turn of events has sent my whole day into a dark, downward spiral. I’m too emotionally exhausted to walk all the way home, and my face is hurting worse by the second.

I pull out my phone and make a call.

My ma answers in her lofty, gentle voice. “Sweetheart?”

“Are you busy? Can you give me a ride home, Ma?”

“Ooh, your shift ended early? Too hot outside today to walk?”

I don’t have the heart to give her the story right now. “Yeah.”

“And Jimmy’s not comin’ to get you?”

I glance down the road at the back of his truck. “Not today.”

“Mmm, okay, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a few.”

From the hesitant sound of her voice, I can tell my ma knows something’s wrong, but she isn’t prying just yet. She’ll wait until we’re home before she starts fishing.

After we hang up, I plop down right there on the curb, then hug my knees to my chest. The shade from the building at this hour covers me from the harsh sunlight. I stare ahead at the road, catching a gust of wind from the vehicles that whiz right on by.

“Why aren’t you answerin’ my texts?”

I glance up to find Jimmy standing there.

I shake my head and return my gaze to the pavement. “You can go home,” I tell him without looking his way. “I’m gettin’ a ride from my ma. She’s on the way.”

“What?”

His voice has softened, like suddenly he’s the one who’s been wounded. I continue to hug my knees to my chest while staring off blankly at the road.

He sits down on the curb next to me, his shoulder touching mine. “Bobs, please don’t tell me they fired you.”

“Alright, I won’t. Mr. Lemon simply sent me home for the day, and also maybe I won’t come back to work again for the rest of the summer, whatever’s left of it.”

Jimmy drops his head between his knees and grips the back of his neck. “Aw, no, man, no, no, no. This is my fault. No. Fuck.”

“Well, no one’s arguin’ that.” I look away.

I feel his attention on me suddenly. “Bobby, I didn’t mean for this to happen. Anthony was being an asshole.”

“I know. This may be a shocker, but he’s been a douche to me all summer long.”