She shrugs her shoulder. “I would and I will. This is what you were born to do, Jordan. It’s time to move forward. Although you’re the best employee we’ve ever had, you weren’t made to be a barista for the rest of your life.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. She knows some of my hang-ups though, and it has been hard for me to fully commit. Doing photography brings me joy, yes, but it’s also a bittersweet reminder of the past. I’ve found peace at the coffee shop, something that eluded me for a long time, and I’m hard pressed not to give that up.
“Can you imagine being a photographer full time?” she asks excitedly. “You could make your own schedule, travel, be a badass boss bitch. It’s a no brainer.”
“Mmm,” I hum, giving her a non-answer.
What I also don’t say is that it’s a special kind of torture to do family photography but it’s my passion none the less. Does it fill a void in me that I lost long ago? Yes. But at the same time, it makes me want to rip my heart out and cry. I know with time that it will get better, but I feel like a newborn foal taking itsfirst steps. I just need to learn to embrace my emotions when it comes to doing this again.
Interrupting my thoughts, she continues, “On another note, have you had a chance to finish your dating profile?” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully.
Thankful for the subject change but also not, I groan. “No, and you know I don’t want to. It’s a bunch of douche canoes who only want to hook up on these apps.”
“And what’s the problem with that?”
I give her a look. She may have a kid but she’s basically as inexperienced with physical intimacy as I am.
“Okay, okay.” She holds her hands up in surrender. “But a few harmless dates won’t hurt.”
“The last guy I went on a date with told me I was a bit harsh. What does that even mean?” He was an out of towner I met at the coffee shop about a year ago. But what man just goes and says that to someone they don’t even know? He was being harsh, not me.
“You have a resting bitch face, Auntie Jay,” Autumn chimes in. She’s been quietly watching her tablet while we talk, so I didn’t even think she was listening.
“Excuse me! But where did you hear that?” I question, as Penny scolds her daughter. Because what four-year-old knows about resting bitch face?
She shrugs her shoulders. “Mommy’s show,” she answers back and continues to eat her dinner like she didn’t just say a swear word.
“I knew I shouldn’t have watched trashy reality TV with her in the room. Apologize to Auntie Jordan,” she demands from Autumn.
Autumn looks up and says, “I’m sorry.” And then continues to watch her cartoons.
“Maybe she has a point. I’m not the warmest person in the world. We all know this.” I point out to Penny.
“Maybe if you didn’t look so sad all the time and weren’t so grumpy then more people would be friends with you,” Autumn says without looking at me.
Leave it to a toddler to tell you how it really is.
Penny and I share a look. One that doesn’t need any words. Because if a four-year-old can see that I’m miserable, then maybe some things do need to change. Maybe it’s time for me to step out of my comfort zone and move forward with my life.
“Okay,” I relent. “Will you help me finish the dating profile though?” Before she can answer, I add, “But you have to do one too.”
She screeches. “This is going to be so much fun!”
Fuck my life.
~ ~ ~
After dinner and dessert, while I clean the kitchen, Penny gets Autumn to bed so we can finally pop open a bottle of wine and get started on our dating profiles.
I only downloaded the app in the first place because, after one too many glasses of wine, I was feeling sorry for myself and my lonely ass life. I then proceeded to text Penny about said dating app and she lost her chill, saying it was about damn time I punched my V-card.
It’s not like I’m saving it for someone special. It’s just that I haven’t had time to give it away, so to speak. I was somewhat of a loner in high school and the last four years since then have been the hardest of my life. I’m finally getting to a place mentally where I can enjoy the small things. One of which I’m hoping is dating. Especially after the disastrous one I most recently went on.
At twenty-two, my life is what some would call sad. And now I’m thinking that Autumn has a point with the whole resting bitch face comment.
“Should I smile more?” I ask Penny as she sits on the couch and grabs her glass of wine.
She slightly cringes and now I know my answer. “It never hurts to smile more,” she says. “Look, if you want my honest assessment. You only give your real smile out to me and Autumn, my parents, and a select few of the regulars at the shop. The rest of the time, particularly during tourist season, you put on a fake smile that looks like you want to take a pitchfork to your eyeballs.”
