Seaside Story

"If you could work whatever job you wanted to, what would you pick?” The question came from Susan’s coworker Jeremy as he reorganized a shelf stacked with chips for the fourth time that week.

“You need new conversation starters. You’ve asked this question before,” she replied while petting her dog, Theo, curled up on the too-long counter. She didn’t know why a gas-station, small diner combo building would need a counter this long, but it had one, nonetheless. It made for a good napping space for dogs at least.

“I have?” He looked up, confused. “I thought I hadn’t asked this one before.”

“Nope, same question as last month.” Susan glanced over her shoulder as Mrs. Fincher, the third member of the shift and supervisor, for confirmation, which she quickly received in the form of a nod. “‘What’s your dream job?’”

“I feel like that’s a different question though.”

“It’s not.”

“But the question I just asked is more about what’s actually possible for you to do. My original one was asking about what you really wanted to do—deep down. It’s more about your deepest desire, no?”

“Those are still the same thing. You’re asking what I want or what I really want. Why would those be different?” For her, they were. She liked it here, a small seaside town far from the pressure of life and parents who never visited.

“Forget about it.”

“Why?”

“It’s not making sense to you. I’m not going to push it.”

“Come on. Explain it. Pull out some quote or something from one of those dual-credit college classes you keep talking about.”

“See. You’re just going to make fun of me.”

The bell rang as the door swung open. A familiar figure stepped through the door. Theo woofed in greeting.

“Hello, Tyler,” Mrs. Fincher called, “come to visit Susan?”

“Not quite, but I wouldn’t miss the opportunity.” Her boyfriend replied, quickly winking before ducking into the gas station isles. “Didn’t you say you started carrying barbecue recently?”

“In the back by the soda machine.”

“Found it.” The response came from the back aisle. He reappeared a moment later and tossed the packaged meat onto the counter. Susan shoved Theo’s face back as he began sniffing and nosing the barbecue.

“Please tell me you’re not planning on getting all the groceries for tomorrow night from a gas station.”

“I’m not. You just said this barbecue was good when you had it with Haley last week.”

“Good. Because if you had, I don’t think we’d last.”

“Good thing I have common sense.”

“Common sense is a wonderful quality,” she said as he rang him up. “Are you going this afternoon to get the rest?”

“I am. Can you get the candles from the convenience store?”

“I have to run somewhere right after work, and then I’m meeting up with the girls tonight at the beach. We planned this weeks ago, so I’d feel guilty cancelling on them.”

“Makes sense. I’ll run and get the candles too then.” He grabbed the bagged food she handed off to him. “See you tomorrow,” he called as he exited the building.

“Why do you need extra food?” Jeremy asked, finally standing after having finished reorganizing the shelves.

“We have visitors coming tomorrow night.”

“Who’s coming?”

“Is it his parents?” Mrs. Fincher asked, turning her back to the fan to face the other two, black hair suddenly billowing over her right shoulder.

Susan nodded.

“I hope that goes well,” she said as she brushed a few rogue hairs clinging to the corner of her mouth away from her face. “It can be awkward meeting the parents of someone you’ve been with for a while. Especially if they don’t talk to their parents.”

“Was it awkward for you?”

“Besides being outed as the terrible cook that I am, not too bad. Alan’s parents are pretty laid back for their age—a fact which I appreciate more every year.”

Crossing her arms, Susan began tapping her feet together—right over left. “Tyler’s worried about me making a good impression. Not about me. More for me if that makes sense.”

Jeremy came to stand by the counter before joining Theo—who, upon sensing the movement, raised his head and looked over his shoulder at him—on the too-long counter. “I guess he doesn’t talk to his parents much then.”

“No, not really,” she said. Susan turned and scratched Theo under his neck, his eyes closing as he relaxed, trying to get him to lay back down. A few moments later, he did. “He’s just worried his parents won’t approve of me.”

“I don’t see why they shouldn’t,” Jeremy said.

“I doubt they’ll approve of their son dating a twenty-four-year-old bum who’s still living out of her brother’s nasty apartment and hasn’t found a good job after graduating.”

“It’s gotta be the job. He must just be embarrassed to be in a relationship with someone working at a crumby gas-station, diner combo, right? Cause who in their right mind would do that?” Mrs. Fincher said wryly, conspicuously twisting the wedding band around her finger.

Susan chuckled, cracking a wry smile. “I don’t think so. At least not with the employee discount I get on the protein bars he likes.”

“Those things are expensive,” Tyler muttered, “Do yo—"

“Oh! A car is coming around to the back window.” Mrs. Fincher announced, pointing out front as a mahogany Sudan drove around the building.

“Whose turn is it to man the window?” Susan asked, mentally crossing her fingers, praying it wasn’t her.

“That’s all you, honey. Cause I covered it earlier today, and I’ll be doing it tomorrow when I’m covering your shift too.” She watched comfortably from the fan as Susan walked towards the back window.

~

Theo heard the jangle of keys before Susan did. He quickly scrambled to his feet—all legs—a light boorf as he padded over the tile extending out of the kitchen and down the hall. Tyler slipped through the door, immediately greeted by a set of paws and a wide, toothy grin.

Susan didn’t move her spot from the table where she sipped her coffee. She had seen the event countless times. Besides, her ritual warm coffee took precedence over all else at this time of the morning.

“Hi, bubby, good to see you too,” Tyler said, his shoes smacking on tile as Theo trailed behind, licking any fingers low enough to reach. “You got his hair cut!”

“He really needed it. He hasn’t been trimmed in months, and I didn’t want it getting matted at the beach. He’s a pain to comb when his hair’s long.”

“I bet Haley didn’t like that. She never likes when he looks like a rat.” Theo always looked a bit strange with short hair. Her friends liked it long.

“She did not. But she’ll live.”

Tyler pulled out his chair, the legs stubbornly squeaking across the floor, and plopped down across from Susan, crossing his legs as he leaned back.

“Ech!”

“What?”

“Shoes.”

“Oh, right.” He stood and bolted back to the front door, returning a moment later in just his garish black and neon green socks—a favorite of his. “Sorry. I forgot.” The floor was cleaner than normal. Susan planned on keeping it that way while her brother was out of town. The cleanliness wouldn’t survive his return, but it was a nice temporary comfort.

“Your shoes weren’t muddy, were they?”

“No, those are my work shoes. They’re pretty clean.”

“I thought you went to the store.”

“The grocery store isn’t an outdoor flea market. I’m not tracking in mud from the Publix down the road.”

“Those floors aren’t clean either.”

“But it’s not mud.”

Susan released an exasperated sigh and took a sip of her coffee. “Did you get what you needed for tonight?”

“I did.”

“Good.”

“At least, I think I did.”

“Well, I’ll double check when we head over to your place.”

“Okay.”

“Did you at least remember the new dog food?”

“It’s in my car.”

“Good. I want Theo to try it.”

“Does he not like his current food?”

She shook her head. “Not like he used to. So, I thought I’d introduce him to something different and see if he likes it. Might restore his appetite.”

“Well, I’ll go get it from my car, and we can get going.” He stood and walked toward the foyer.

“Yeah,” she replied, a bit flatly.

“Are you nervous?”

“I’m more nervous about you being nervous,” she said, joining him at the door, Theo following right behind.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s just your parents,” Susan said as they stepped out of her brother’s apartment into the salty air.

~

The night started well. Tyler’s parents arrived a bit early (as Tyler had expected). The food was done, warm and well prepared. They greeted his parents warmly, if a bit awkwardly for a first introduction, and sat down for the meal. The initial discussion was nice and pleasant in the shallow way that conversations at dinner often start.

Eventually, the talking died down around the table, leaving the four occupants in a pregnant silence.

“Have you heard from Jonathan, Tyler?” His mother asked, attempting to rekindle the conversation.

“No, ma’am.” He replied between bites, partly covering his mouth with his hand. “The last time I spoke to him was the week after you two did. The week after he left.”

“Surely you must have spoken to him since then, right?”

“I wish I had.”

“But wouldn—”

“Martha.” Her husband chided.

“Just let me—us—know if you hear from your brother, okay?”

Susan could feel the specter of Tyler’s brother enter the room and join them at the table, an unwanted guest, hovering over the proceedings. She realized this meal wasn’t about Tyler, her, or their relationship. They were only interested in Jonathan.

She sat and stared at her food, at a loss for words. She reached down and scratched Theo, who sat curled up beside her chair, behind his ears.

“He’s a beautiful dog,” Tyler’s father said.

“Thank you.”

“How old is he?”

“Seven, I think.”

“Did you pick up off the road from around here or buy him from a breeder?”

“He was—”

“A gift from her mother.” Tyler interjected. He was right. Theo was a gift from her dad—an apology gift after he divorced Susan’s mom and left her and his two children for another woman.

Susan shot him a glare. She didn’t need him to answer for her.

“That’s sweet.” Tyler’s dad replied, not missing a beat.

“So, Susan, where do you work in town?” his wife asked, jumping in.

Susan found herself wishing the conversation had stayed on Jonathan. “A small gas station. Well, it doubles as a diner in the afternoon. It’s an odd little place.”

“How quaint.”

“It has its moments.”

“And where are you thinking about working in the future? This is a temporary position, I assume.”

Susan forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s just a temporary thing.” A lie poorly delivered and immediately noticed.

“She has a while to keep looking to find something she likes and pays well.” Tyler said, coming to her defense. “She’s boarding with friends to reduce rent, and I make enough with my job right now to start saving for a house in the future.”

“Good,” his mother said, “I’m glad you’ve thought this through.

The table fell silent again. This time, no one attempted to rescue the conversation.

~

“How’d it go?” Mrs. Fincher asked as Susan tore off another old advertisement, edges partly frayed, yellowed, and peeling away, from the glass. She threw the one she had mostly ripped from the door into an old plastic bucket—one that used to hold pool salt, if the faded branding was to be believed—and set to work scrubbing the strips stuck to the glass with a wet cloth and an old, expired credit card. Her coworker was leaning over the counter to watch her work. A small stack of replacement ads sat on the counter beside her arm. The store was empty besides the two of them.

“Terribly.”

“How so?”

Susan grunted but didn’t say anything. She shifted the credit card to her right hand and began scraping at the thin strands of paper that refused to come off.

“Did your job come up?”

“If you mean the lack of a professional one, then, yes, it did.”

“And?”

“They kept dancing around the topic. I think they spent the rest of the night trying not to say something.” And wanting to talk about something else.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m not sure. I hated the first job I had after graduation, and I don’t want to work somewhere like that again”

“What was wrong with it?”

“The people.”

“Well, people suck,” Mrs. Fincher said. Susan could hear her voice cracking from the grin likely tugging at the corner of her mouth, “Unfortunately, you can’t get away from that.”

“I guess I could try to find something related to my major.” A lot of jobs hired history majors after all.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Susan sighed. She picked flakes of paper out of her nail. She wished she had stuck with the credit card. “I never found anything I liked doing.”

“Many people don’t at your age.”

“I wish I did.”

“Reminds me of a friend. She knew exactly what she wanted to do from a young age.” Susan walked over to the counter and picked up the new ads to tape up, shifting the stack in her hands. She didn’t move back toward the door, electing to stay and listen. “It’s funny. She wanted to own and run a beachfront motel. In her mind it was this seedy but charming—as she always emphasized—place similar to buildings you’d see in old crime stories. In her mind, the lobby had faded red walls and wide windows on either side of the door.”

“It sounds like a miserable place to stay.”

“Doesn’t’ it? That’s what I always told her too.”

Susan’s phone began buzzing in her pocket. She ignored it. The buzzing stopped a moment later. “Did she get her hotel?”

Mrs. Fincher shook her head. “She’s an accountant. Went into business with her husband and two other friends from college, and their business took off.”

“Good for them.” Her phone started buzzing again. With a sigh, Susan reached down and pulled it out of her pocket, quickly flipping it open. Tyler’s name flashed across the screen.

“Do you need to take that?”

Susan nodded, stepped back, and answered the phone. “What is it? I don’t want to talk about your parents if that’s what it is.”

“Do you know where the nearest veterinary clinic is?” Tyler asked, his voice strained, breathing hard.

“Two towns over, why? What does that have to do wi—”

“Nothing. Theo collapsed on his walk. He’s breathing heavily and won’t open his eyes. He didn’t eat any food this morning either.”

Susan’s chest tightened. “Where are you?”

“Heading over to you. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’ll lead you to the clinic once you get here.” She hung up and turned to Mrs. Fincher. Mouth agape, she searched for the words to explain.

“I’ll be fine. Go.”

She sprinted out the door without another word.

~

Susan waited alone in the front office of a veterinarian two towns over—over an hour drive away. Tyler had left for work. He wanted to stay, but she forced him to go, practically shoving him out the door. Now, she wished she hadn’t.

The office was cold, the frosty air nipping at her skin, and empty besides herself and the secretary solemnly keeping watch over the waiting room. She was a small woman, the secretary, but she seemed nice enough. Every few minutes, she stared at Susan until she caught her eye and smiled as a way of reassurance. It didn’t help.  
“Mrs. Gallagher?”

Looking up, Susan saw a technician with short brown hair standing at the edge of the room, her face grim. She shifted from foot to foot, nervously.

Susan stood, sucking in a deep breath, bracing herself (more attempting than succeeding).

“Yes?”

“We’re performing a surgery on Theo, and we found he has severe internal bleeding in his liver and a mass on his spleen.”

“Oh.”

“We suspect that it’s cancer.”

“How lo—”

“The doctor wants to put him to sleep now while he’s under anesthesia. He’s already in a great deal of pain and probably won’t survive until the end of the month.”

“That’s what would be best for him?” The tech nodded. “Alright then. Go ahead.” She turned and started back to her chair, her cold, hard, uncomfortable plastic chair.

“Would you like us to take an imprint of his paw to remember him by? We can send it to you by the end of next week.”  
Susan sat back down in her chair. “Sure, why not.”

~

Tyler’s keys jingled in the door. The hall remained silent. He came in quick as always, rapidly opening and closing the door, barring the chilly morning air from entry. A clack echoed down the hall as his shoes, now removed, hit the tile. He padded into the kitchen with just his socks on. Susan had fixed him his usual breakfast, which sat on the table ready, but a little colder than normal. Her corner of the table sat empty, excluding a cup of coffee, which she intermittently raised to her lips, taking small, tentative sips. He joined her at the table, opposite her chair.

Tyler—he knew her so well—started talking, mostly about nothing, to keep her mind busy. She nodded, only half-listening, but she appreciated the gesture. Anything to pass the time outside her own head. Eventually, her coffee mug ran dry, his plate emptied, and the time ran out.

Susan stood to head to work.

“I hope work goes well.”

Susan paused, turning to sag against the wall before glancing back into the kitchen to look at her boyfriend. “You know . . . I think I might quit my job at the gas station and go find something else—something new.”

Tyler drew his lips into a thin line and sucked his right cheek in. A moment later, Susan was sure he had started to chew on it—a gross habit she never liked—but she didn’t say anything. “Is that what you want to do?”

“I thought a change of pace might be nice.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m not sure about quitting, by the way. I just want wanted to mention it.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding.

“It’s just a thought.”