E’s Perspective

Five Seconds After Making a Huge Mistake


The gentle ebb and flow of the sea chants a subtle hushed harmony that bathes the ear in a comforting chorus of contentment. The tide nibbles delicately at my feet, just out of reach of its potentially powerful pull. Two sensations that many view as serene and enviable, a combination worthy of desire… yet to me, this offensive scene violently pulls me back to consciousness from wherever I’ve been.

My eyes fly open and my hands claw at the sand, desperate to be far away from the ocean. Breathing heavily and trying to steer my wild heartbeat away from inciting a panic attack, I look around urgently trying to find the purpose for my presence here. The world around me is missing something. Everything from the sky above to the swaying trees around me lacks their usual color and is portrayed in more shades of grey than an awful erotic novel could hope to contain.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter out loud as I realize that the stage upon which I stand is eerily familiar. This is the beach my dad used to take me to during summer break. The cinching characteristic being the palm tree off to the side with a bark twisted enough to sit on like a bench. Funny how a place you once considered a paradise could cause such pain given enough time and experience.

So, I think it’s painfully clear that drinking an entire bottle of god-magic whiskey wasn’t my brightest moment. Hindsight is really coming in clear on that one… Now what? Just wait for a divine hangover? Maybe I can build a sandcastle or learn to play the ukulele.

From inside the water, a bright blue light begins glowing. It is enchanting and beautiful, blatantly obvious, when placed against an otherwise drab world. “Yeah, no. Absolutely not. I’m not getting in the water. Whoever’s in control here, please direct your mystical aura onto the shore and we’ll see what we can make happen here.” The light doesn’t move, and no sound responds to my reasonable request. “I can wait all day!” I yell at the sky, assuming that if there is a higher power at play here, it will literally be higher.

This time, I’m met by a pretty clear response as the water level rises. The glowing orb does get nearer, but it merely maintains its distance from the shore as the shoreline advances ever closer. “You think you’re funny, don’t you!?” I yell, possibly panicking just a tad. “Well, what’s stopping me from just leaving?” I turn on my heel, confident in my escape plan, only to find that the ocean is still in front of me. “That… that’ll stop me pretty well.”

Seeing literally no other option, I cautiously wade into the calmly churning sea. This isn’t too bad, and the light is pretty close to–

A powerful force grips my ankle and pulls me under the water as I futilely scream, watching the bubbles of my panic silently rise around me.


***


Winona’s POV

Four Years Ago


Double shifts are always difficult to handle, but when the restaurant you work at is so understaffed you haven’t known the privilege of a single day off in three weeks, they become an entirely different beast. I know it’s not right to complain about something that in the grand scheme of thing is trivial, but I’m at the end of my rope here. At least, I would be if it weren’t for Caleb. Ever since Kat left, it’s just been me and Leon waiting tables, and Caleb in the bar, day in and day out. Leon’s good enough people, certainly, but he seems to thrive on the mind-bending monotony of the job, as well as the high stress rushes of a weekend night. Not at all relatable.

Caleb, on the other hand? I can go to him during every minute of downtime we share and there’s never a dull moment. He’s sweet, charming, quick with a joke, and if he would ever say the word I’d let him take me on a dining room table, leaning over some poor customer’s overpriced caprese salad. Ahem… in a ladylike way, of course.

The only problem being… I know I’m not his type. I’m not anybody’s type. Looking down, I idly squeeze my oversized belly and sigh.

“What’s wrong, Wino?” I hear a familiar voice call to me as I turn around, realizing with horror that my goddamn crush caught me checking the air pressure on my spare tire.

“I–I mean… nothing is wrong! Nothing at all! I’m all good in the hood!” Who the heck says that anymore!?

Caleb just laughs, the same way he always does when I do or say something incredibly stupid before smiling with his dumb, perfect face. “Alright, didn’t mean to get you all worked up. Boss just wanted me to tell you that the first dinner reso is yours in ten minutes. You’ve got sections A through D like normal.” I nod, never quite looking him in the eye, a fact he picks up on immediately, because of course prince charming over here has to be attentive to boot! Ugh, what a jerk. “You sure nothing’s wrong, Wino? We still have some time if you want to bend my ear.”

The question makes me squirm for a moment, until finally I look into his deep brown eyes, trying not to melt like a chocolate bar in summer. “Could–Could I get your opinion, as a guy?” Caleb crosses his arms over his chest and nods. “Well, I mean, I know I could stand to lose a bunch of weight and, you know, makeup is a thing i should probably figure out before I’m thirty. Plus, for some reason, I just can’t get my hair to not be a complete tangled mess. I’m convinced the people who have straight, lustrous hair have got to be wizards or something. Regardless, do you think, if I really worked on myself… Do you think a guy could think I’m… pretty?”

A low chuckle escapes his lips as Caleb smiles. “Well, as a guy, and taking upon myself the authority to speak on behalf of all men everywhere, you are gorgeous. Full stop. No qualifying additions. No “if” or “when”... you just are.”

Well, I lived a good life; I suppose. I enjoyed the love and companionship of the best dog any woman has ever known. I got to travel to Japan during college, that was pretty sweet. Both of my siblings are even worse fuckups than me, so my parents never really got on my back about being generally directionless. It really was a good time. What? Too out of left field? I mean, the only logical explanation for what i just heard is that I somehow passed away and have ascended to heaven, a magical world where the sexiest man I’ve ever known could look me in the eye and tell me that, “I’m pretty?”

With a playful smirk that should absolutely be illegal to carry without a license, Caleb shakes his head. “Now, I believe the word I used was gorgeous. You. Are. Gorgeous.”

How does one react rationally when all they want to do is scream at the top of their lungs and run around doing the Numa Numa dance? “I–that–but–I–what–” Considering what my first reaction could have been, devolving into a stuttering mess is me keeping it together incredibly well. “Thank you, I–”

Alan, my asshole manager, pokes his head into a conversation he has no right to interrupt. “Winona, table twelve just got sat. Your reservation came early.” Of course it did you walking rogaine before picture with more damn age spots on your head than hair!

“Heard!” I look apologetically at Caleb and shrug. “To be continued?”

Flashing another grin that was liable to give me a heart attack, he turns to walk back to the bar. “Of course. Catch you later.” Of all the verbs I want him to do to me later, catch isn’t exactly at the top of my list, but screw it… HE THINKS I’M GORGEOUS!!!!!!

Literally skipping out into the dining room, I find my first customer of the late shift perusing the menu thoughtfully all by his lonesome. “Welcome to Italiana Nome! I’ll be your server, Winona. For specials, we have our returning favorites, the pasta carbo-nada, our delicious carbonara pasta made with gluten-free noodles, and our Pythagorean penne, with triangle shaped hypote-noodles. Can I get you started with anything to drink?”

The man hears my usual script and chuckles. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry… that cannot be easy to say all day, every day.”

Dropping the usual customer service voice, I sigh. “Yeah, it’s hard to keep a straight face sometimes, but I mean, this place pays the bills… barely.”

“I’ll bet. I don’t imagine people who would willingly subject themselves to pun-themed pasta dishes tip very well.” The man looks up at me and hums. “That’s surprising, though. You’re super happy right now. Serving in a place like this, devoid of hope, but still all smiles.”

“Being cheery is part of the job.”

“No, no… I work at the barbecue place down on fourth street. I know all about the plastered on manufactured smiles worn for tips. That’s not you… you’re actually happy right now.”

A giddy giggle escapes from me. I feel like a kid whose thinly hidden secret they really want people to ask them about has just been revealed. Is it in bad form to use random people I don’t know to crush under a cascade of overexcited rambling? Probably, but I’m willing to eat the loss on this tip. “Okay, you got me! This guy that I’ve been crushing on for a really long time told me that I’m gorgeous. Me! Can you believe it?”

And now, this total stranger will lie and tell me how wonderful I look to fulfil the tacit social contract of–“No, I can’t.” Huh?

“Well, that was rude,” I say, as the man starts chuckling dryly.

“Oh please, you were fishing for a compliment. Trying to force people to say things they don’t mean, that’s rude.” I’m speechless as the customer places an elbow on the table and rests his head on his palm. “You must be one of those people who’s so desperate for validation that you make your own insecurities everybody else's problem. I bet you call yourself ugly in front of your friends all the time just to hear someone tell you how wonderful you look. In fact, twenty-to-one-odds, you pretend to hate having your picture taken, but will snap a couple dozen selfies a day, cherry pick the one that comes out looking the least hideous, and post it everywhere so that you can get a dopamine rush of support that you’re unable to provide for yourself. Tell me, did I win the prize?”

My mouth hangs open as I lack the words to form with it. “You… asshole.”

“Yeah, I’m an asshole. I’m rude, cruel, apathetic, spiteful, and yet I think I deserve the world. Hear that? That’s called taking ownership of your flaws.” I gasp as he stands up and steps toward me. “Since I’m pretty sure I haven’t missed yet, let me take a swing at the bonus round… this guy you like, he’s your friend, right? You two are close? Do you honestly think he meant what he told you? He was just politely providing you with the same unearned confidence you’ve farmed for yourself for years. Congratulations, you’ve poisoned the well. Nothing he says can ever be trusted, because he’s not talking to you as a guy who would ever think about dating a troll like you. He’s just being a friend.”

Despite not being near a mirror, I can imagine what my face must look like now as I hold back heaving sobs. “No, he said…” The stranger’s words cut deeper with each passing moment as I re-contextualize everything Caleb has ever said or done for me. Every kind word, every gesture, every laugh, every smile… I’m a fool.

“I’ve changed my mind. The food here looks awful. Keep this for your time.” The stranger tosses a twenty onto the table and leaves, pausing briefly behind me as he goes. For my part, I just stand there, in the middle of the empty dining room, until I hear footsteps approaching.

I turn around in time to see Caleb round the corner. “Fucking walkouts. Talk about a waste of time. Right when me and you were in the middle of talking too! Talk about rude.” I nod, and Caleb immediately switches into his overprotective mode. “Wait, what’s wrong? Did that jackass try something? I bet he’s still in the parking lot. Let me go–”

Gently tugging on Caleb’s shoulder, I shake my head. “No, it’s nothing like that… I was just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks, obviously still concerned, bless his heart.

“Not today, I just… I just want to be alone for a bit.”

“Are you sure?” He sounds hurt, but I don’t want to continue manipulating him into caring, into feeding me support that I shouldn’t need.

“I am.” There’s a chilling gust where there used to be warmth. Caleb, my best friend, the person who can make me smile on the worst days… Now his face, his pitying expression… it hurts to look at.

Double shifts are always difficult to handle, and now I’m not sure how I’ll ever get through them again.


***


E’s Perspective

Present Day


Waking up, completely submerged in the grey ocean around me, I frantically flail my way towards oxygen. I’ve only barely breached the surface when a wave of nausea threatens to eject way more than the saltwater I’ve swallowed from the pit of my stomach.

What was that memory? I was there, but I wasn’t myself? I… I was Winona Sparks. That was the day I cut the line connecting her and Caleb Robinson. I knew what I said was harsh… but I didn’t know that–

No. I knew. It’s not fair to try to claim ignorance of how badly I hurt her. It didn’t take me riding along from her point of view, either. I sat in my car in the Italiana Nome parking lot for the better part of an hour after that, trying to remind myself that what I was doing was ordained by the goddess. Despite my beliefs, I’ve always known the job was twisted, but feeling the icy sting of my words shredding her heart. How could I?

Right before my eyes, fifteen more blue lights activate in the water, each about ten feet away from the last. This was just the first taste of what I signed up to endure. My legs stop kicking, but my body doesn’t sink, not yet. The currents surrounding me begin pulling me towards the next light, and the next lovely memory for me to experience. I should have listened to the three drink warning.