This Is My Brain in Love - I. W. Gregorio Page 0,51

different designs, and when I’m done I e-mail Javi to see if he can hook me up with some prototypes. I can’t talk to Jocelyn, or text her, and the green check mark that’s supposed to come up next to her e-mail whenever she reads it never appears.

Once the buttons are done, I open up my “Restaurant at the End of the Strip Mall” file. I looked up the developer online and have had the name and number of the property management contact for days. I even have a list of questions I’ve been planning on asking her: What’s the average duration of tenancy? Is it lower for restaurants than for retail outlets? How much does your rent typically rise each year?

I pick up my phone and input the number, ignoring the single buzz of my watch. I know that my pulse is up.

I take a deep breath and hit the call button. With each ring, the pressure builds in my forehead. My watch makes a double buzz.

There’s a click as the call connects, and my throat seizes up.

It’s an answering machine.

I hang up without leaving a message, telling myself that I’ll call back the next day.

That evening, after an Xbox marathon, I let Javier get a ride home with Tim. I call in a take-out order and walk down to A-Plus. They may have fired me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go there as a customer. As usual, there’s only one booth occupied by a solo diner but a line of take-out bags ready to go behind the counter, where Jocelyn’s brother is checking the orders. I see at least four stapled printouts indicating someone who ordered online.

I jiggle the paper gift bag I’m holding to settle my nerves.

“Hi, Alan.”

When Alan clocks who I am, his baseline deer-in-the-headlights look is replaced by a brief moment of happiness at seeing me, before morphing into an uncomfortable shiftiness.

“Uh, hey, Will. Long time no see.”

“How’s it going?”

“Not bad. We’re past rush hour.” His eyes flit nervously to the door to the kitchen.

“So, is Jocelyn around?”

“Yeah,” he says at first, before shaking his head and stuttering, “I mean, she’s busy. Actually, I think she went out on a supply run. We, uh, we’re running out of sugar. And, uh, I don’t think she’s going to be back for a while.”

I get the message, which sits like a chunk of sour pineapple in my gullet. It’s not like I’m surprised. I just thought that Alan would be able to come up with something better than an emergency sugar run when the night’s half over.

“Well, I’m glad you guys are busy.” I try to be gracious, try to moderate my tone, but I can still hear the resentment in my voice. “Can you just give this to your sister? I made some buttons for, you know, a little promotion. I think she could have a lot of fun with it.”

Alan looks panicky when I try to hand over the bag, but eventually he takes it and stuffs it into the book bag that’s in the booth strewn with his homework. Suddenly I feel rotten for putting him in a situation where he could get in trouble with his dad. Not rotten enough to take the bag back, but bad enough that I want to show him that I’m grateful.

I nod toward his homework. “Things going okay with summer school?”

Alan’s shoulders slump and he moans. “It’s so painful. And my teacher’s a sadist. We have to do fifty problems every night.”

“How many have you done so far?”

“Twelve. And I can’t just make up answers. She wants me to, like, show my work.”

I take a look at the clock, and at the familiar counter. It’s only half an hour until closing. Usually at this time the Wus are busy getting a head start on cleanup in the kitchen.

“That’s rough,” I say. “So here’s the deal. Why don’t you do your homework. It’s getting late. I can cover the counter for a little while. And if you can’t get a question, just ask.”

“Really?” Alan’s eyes are like saucers, and I can’t help but grin as I nod. “Yussssss.”

It’s not a hardship to give out bags when people come in to get their takeout—most of them have already paid online, which is part of why it’s such a no-brainer. I even fold a few menus for old times’ sake and worry a little bit about the fact that I only have to pick up the phone twice in