ONE
january
PENELOPE
You knowwhat I love about January first? It’s a fresh start, a new beginning. Your year ahead is like a block of clay, simply waiting for you to mold it. The power to be anything, do anything, is in your hands.
You know what I hate about January second? How difficult it is to maintain that motivation and drive from day one.
“You cannot bail on me, Penelope Elizabeth Adams! It’s only day two!” my best friend Chloe hollers at me over the phone– and I know I’m really in trouble when she uses my middle name.
“I can barely feel my legs from whatever you made me do yesterday.” I groan, stretching out on my bed. “Besides, rest days are important.” I’ve definitely read that. Somewhere. Probably.
“Not on day two!” Chloe growls.
The disappointment in her voice makes me feel bad, but not so bad that I’m willing to relent. My legsaresore from yesterday, and I have work later today. My job as associate manager at Ever After Books, the only romance book store in the tri-state area, has me on my feet all day. And after the holiday season? I’ll beclimbing the ladder in our stockroom countless times, tucking away all the overstock that didn’t sell over the season.
“Let's be real, Chlo,” I sigh, “maybe I'm meant to always be the bigger friend. But hey, I've come to terms with it.” I force a laugh, attempting to lighten the mood, though deep down, my self-deprecating humor masks how I truly feel.
Every year starts off the same for me, with resolutions to finally shed those extra pounds (about fifty of them) and boost my self-esteem. But no matter what I do, the weight always seems to stick around and I quickly run out of whatever motivation got me started in the first place. Feeling better about myself seems like an impossible goal, so I never make any real progress.
“Pen, please,” Chloe begs. “I signed us up for?—”
“Oh absolutely not.” I sit upright in bed in alarm. “The next words out of your mouth better not be?—”
“Aneasyclass.” She stresses the word but that means nothing to me. Getting me to sign up for the gym was a feat in itself. I’m more of an introvert, I hate group activities, and I loathe trying to keep up with excessively fit people. Honestly, it’s a wonder Chloe has stayed my friend since freshman year of high school. She’s still maintained the physique she earned on the varsity volleyball team whereas I have just grown… let’s just say rounder and well-fed.
“I wouldn’t associate the word ‘easy’ with anything that happens at the gym.” Rolling over in my bed, I snuggle up to my senior rescue dog, Carl. He’s a big gray lump of love and slobber; I adopted him two years ago when the shelter said he kept getting overlooked for the younger puppies. While his breed is unknown, his heart is 100% gold. “Besides, I need to take Carl for a walk. That will be my workout for today.”
“Carl walks slower than my eighty-year-old grandma,” Chloe huffs.
“A walk is a walk, no matter how slow!”
“Pen—”
“Chloe, I love you. You know that I love you. And I know you have my best interests at heart. But please, for the love of god, never sign me up for a class again.” Silence on the other end indicates her annoyance, but Chloe never stays mad long— she says the energy it takes to be annoyed or angry is far more exhausting than being positive and moving on. “I promise you, I will go back to the gym tomorrow. Today, I just…”
“Okay.” Chloe sounds resigned. “No more classes.”
“I’m sureyouare going to love it. I hope you do.” I force enthusiasm into my tone.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Have fun at work later today.”
“Ugh. Sometimes I think the slow period after the holidays is worse than the rush.” Next to me, Carl rolls onto his back, paws waving in the air— the international dog request for belly rubs, which I happily oblige.
“You’re not closing the store by yourself, are you?” Concern laces my friend’s tone and I can’t help but shudder, recalling the recent incidents in shops along the main downtown area over the holiday season.
Prairie Ridge is a small suburb just outside of Chicago. With a few main streets housing the majority of shops and restaurants, it’s a bit weak calling it “downtown,” but that’s what we call it. Not that it’s small enough where I know everyone who lives here, but the town is situated just off a main highway. We often get visitors stopping in on their way to or from the city.
Over the holidays, a few groups of rougher individuals stopped into some shops and gave employees a difficult time, sometimes even vandalizing the property before speeding off in cars that no one recognized. Thankfully, they never popped into the bookstore, but Gloria, the owner and my boss, made sure shifts were scheduled so no one was ever alone in the evenings.
“I’m not sure.” Blatantly lying to my best friend feels icky, but I don’t want her to stress. Now that the holidays have passed and the downtown shops are quiet again, Gloria has us back on typical schedules. I’m closing the store alone tonight, but I’d rather chance this small lie than have Chloe worry about me. “Look, I have to get my ass up and take Carl for a walk.”
I can practically hear her roll her eyes. “Deflection. Fine. I’ll stop by tonight to make sure you’re okay.”
“You don’t need to do that!”
“Tough shit. I’ll talk to you later, babe. Give Carl kisses for me.” Chloe disconnects before I can protest further.
