“Water too, please.”
The lady serves us, and Shayne pays for our lunches. She goes out the door first, and walks down the street to a small park that has three tables and a set of swings. One of the tables is occupied by a mom who’s watching her daughter on the swing set.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Shayne says as she sits, unwraps her sandwich and takes a bite.
“Not really much to tell. I’m seventeen and about to graduate high school. How about you?”
“Me? Well, I’m kind of stuck in this town. But I want to be an actress. I just need to save enough money to buy my ticket out of here. Been at the store for two years and I keep saving, but…” She shrugs and takes another bite.
“But what?”
“It’s hard to save anything on just under eight bucks an hour. I live on my own, and we have to pay our own medical insurance. It’s hard you know. I’m hoping one day I’ll be promoted and they can at least pay for my medical insurance.”
“Why do you live on your own?” I bite into my delicious sandwich.
“Mom split, and Dad died. Mom found herself a new guy who didn’t want a kid hanging around, so last year she told me I had two months to move out. I live in a garage that’s been converted to an apartment. The rent is cheap, and the people are real nice. They have a little girl and sometimes they ask me to babysit. When I do, they give me a break on my rent. But you know, it’s just hard.”
I like Shayne. She’s not telling me her story for me to pity her. In fact I think she’s really level-headed about it. “This is my first job,” I say trying to swing the conversation.
“Yeah, really? You’re doing really good,” she says. I’m dying to correct her English, but it’s not really my place to say anything to her. “What are you going to do with your first paycheck? Go out and party?” She does this little dance in her seat. It makes me laugh.
“What was that?” I tease as I eat my lunch.
“What? This?” She does the same wiggle but more exaggerated. We both laugh at her silly, innocent ways. “But really, what are you going to do? Not that you can drink, but you can have fun with your friends.”
This changes the mood of the conversation. I put my sandwich down and grab my water, trying to restore that barrier up between us. “I just really want to buy a book.” I drink my water.
“A book? How old are you?” her tone changes and she’s being sarcastic with me.
“Yes, I know it’s probably really weird, but I had a favorite book and recently it was destroyed, and I want another copy. It’s not even a book; it’s a play.”
Shayne looks at me strangely. “No, really, are you an eighty-year-old woman in disguise? I’m being punked, right?” She looks around her like she’s searching for something. It makes me laugh again. “Where are the cameras, grandma?” She stands and looks around.
“Hi, Shayne,” a guy says as he walks past.
“Hey, Liam. Am I being punked?” she asks the guy.
“Not that I know of.” He keeps walking after he winks at her.
“Seriously? A play?” She sits down but her eyes don’t move off the guy who walked past.
“Yes, a play. And you can stop making fun of me for it.”
“What’s the play?”
“It’s called, The Crucible.”
“Oh yeah?” Shayne sounds interested, like she’s heard of it.
“Do you know it?” I ask hopeful we can share a love of the written word.
“Nah, is it like a romance? I don’t read much. I mean I can read, just I don’t.” She shrugs her shoulders.
“It’s a play by Arthur Miller.”
“Oh, right.” She looks lost in the conversation.
“He wrote Death of a Salesman.” She nods her head, though her face says she has no idea. “He was once married to Marilyn Monroe.”
“Really?” Her eyes perk up now, she’s heard a familiar name.
“Yeah, really. Anyway, that’s what I want. Another copy of The Crucible.”
“This town is small if you haven’t noticed already. Maybe you’ll need to order it from the book shop. Anyway, where are you from?”
“Just a couple of suburbs over, but now I’ve moved here.”
“With your parents?” she asks innocently, as she drinks the last of her water.
“No, not quite. My um, my boyfriend and his parents.”
She puts her water bottle down and her eyebrows fly up. “Wooooo,” she teases. “You have a boyfriend. Is he cute?”
“Yeah, he is,” I say, though don’t say anything else.