[9:20]: I don’t think I should be spending so much time on it
There’s a brief pause. I wonder if I’ve overshared.
[9:21]John:you think too much
[9:21]John:are you having fun doing it or not?
My brow furrows thoughtfully.
[9:22]: Yeah
[9:22]: I am
[9:23]John:well, there you go
Then he sends a little emoji of a guy shrugging. The corner of my mouth twists up.
[9:23]: Thanks?
[9:23]: Headed to bed now. Night!
[9:23]: Or as Wordle would say
[9:23]: NIGHT
[9:24]John:lol
[9:24]John:night
I take another sip of wine, put my laptop away, and reach for my to-do list again, smiling to myself just a little.
12
At work the next morning, I wait until I have a break between customers (not hard, considering we only have four people on the books), and then determinedly pick up the phone. I dial the number of the local high school and wait for it to ring. The second it does, I hang up.
Crap.
It feelswaytoo weird to do this over the phone. Sort of spammy, like a telemarketer, and also kind of creepy. What am I going to say, “Hey, you don’t know me, but do you want to bring your kids to the place where I volunteer for a guided tour?”
See? Creepy.
What Iwantto do is go to the schools in person so I can A)prove that I’m a normal person and B) bring them some of the brochures I swiped from the museum. I think I’ll be more persuasive in person too. I can talk about Trey’s demonstrations, and maybe even mention the Barrel Into Summer event.
But the thing about schools is, they’re open during the day, just like the auto shop. I could pop out really quickly at lunch, but I have a feeling school teachers won’t appreciate being bothered during lunchtime. I seem to remember it being the most chaotic time in high school, a hundred hormonal teenagers swarming around trying to get all their socialization done in one sixty-minute period.
I glance at the clock. It’s 10:50 a.m. There are only two customers booked this afternoon, because Dave is off today. I bitemy lip. Maybe... maybe I could say I’m sick and take the rest of the day off.
And yes, I know it’s wrong to skip work when you’re not actually sick. I actually sort of hate people who do that, to be honest. I worked in a restaurant during the summers when I was in university, and there was this one girl who used to call in sickall the time, like she didn’t realize (or care) that it meant the rest of us would have to work twice as hard to pick up her slack.
But I’ve never taken a sick day since I started working at the shop. Would it really be so wrong to take one teensy little day?
I push my chair back and walk to the garage before I can lose my nerve. I have to yell John’s name three times before he hears me over the sound of the machinery.
“What?” he says, when he finally spots me.
I affect a grimace. “I’m headed home. I’ve got a brutal headache.”
Instantly I feel awful, because he puts his tools down and comes toward me, looking—well, notconcerned, exactly, but maybe slightly less indifferent than normal. “Do you have the flu or something?”
