I’ll Wait For You

And, yet, it did to her.

Being with him felt amazing. In the days when her relationship kicked off a notch, and she admitted to her family and Tina and Peter that they were dating seriously, the general mood was jubilation.

And a “Finally!” From Tina. Kostya proved the perfect gentleman, though he was often busy on his trips. When he did pop into the studio, they would watch more of Vikings, talk a little about their pasts or the things that bothered them – Elinor kept going back to her fears of miscarriage and the nightmares she had sometimes. Kostya sought to comfort her each time.

“You don’t need to worry about that. You still have a lot of years left. You’re still young. And, if you think you need to go and see a therapist about it… well. I can come.”

“Thanks,” she had replied wryly, appreciating the offer. That came with another interesting night in bed between them, and the happiest week of Elinor’s life, more than first being accepted into the contract, and delving into her work.

She was happy to be with someone who made everything tick in the right places. She loved also working as part of the band, brainstorming together, watching them bring the words in her head to life. It made her swell with pride, and believe she had finally been blessed. The only thing that saddened her about the new glamour was that she couldn’t yet show it to her close family and friends – but once she moved into a new apartment with her pay checks, hopefully to a better, modern vibe one, she could invite them over.

She’d already bought her mother the fruit juicer and Dolce Gusto coffee machine, along with an adequate supply of pods to get her started. Elinor considered waiting for Catrina’s birthday, but decided against it at the last moment. She could only keep up the fiction that the job didn’t pay that much extra for so long, before everyone around her started noticing differences in her life choices, in her living conditions and the gifts she bought. Out of all the people who wouldn’t murder her out of jealously, it would be Catrina. And out of all the people who deserved to be treated, her parents shot to the top of the list. Those people had starved to make sure she ate in winter months, when summer jobs ended. She’d never even thought much of it, because she always had food on her plate, warm clothes and a roof over her head.

My parents are amazing people.

She needed a few more months before her father would find himself the proud leaser of an electric car. As for herself, Kostya promised that she would get herself checked thoroughly, to find out if her recurrent miscarriages were simply due to bad luck, or something worse. Something she’d never tried approaching the doctors with before.

Something she kept making excuses for, because she didn’t want the doctor to scan her, and declare in a sonorous voice that she could never carry a baby to term. Imagining those words made her sweat. They were the kind of words that could destroy her soul.

Over the next two months, Elinor plunged herself into work, doing everything possible to maintain a balance in Velocity Café and to write lyrics, especially when the band had all gathered in the studio for performing. The soundproof zone to the far left kept spare copies of their preferred instruments, and now, after feverish bouts of inspiration, sitting together, and Elinor even actively participating in songs to help Arina gain a bird’s eye perspective of her performance, they had scraped together the entire album in raw form. Fifteen songs, including Elinor’s Still Dreams, with her as the main vocalist. Recording that had been exhausting, as many times she had been too nervous, or dipped wrong in the vision of what she wanted with her voice.

One month into this activity, along with the work at Velocity Café, it became clear to Elinor that she couldn’t manage it. Her pay check from Fusion Chord came in, along with $800 from Richard Strong. She sat with a heavy heart, thinking of all the hours she had put into Velocity Café, all the stress, the busy hours, coupled with the fact that $800 for all that chaos, just didn’t feel worth it. Despite doing everything, she’d still missed enough shifts for Richard Strong to glare at her ominously, for Karen to comment snidely behind her back, how Elinor was unfaithful to her old job,  now that she had a new one.

Richard Strong had called her into the office once more, and though he sat down, opposite her, still with the pleading and apologetic look in his eyes, Elinor knew that this was it. She would be fired.

Her heart sank to new lows as Richard had cleared his throat, and explained, “I’m sorry, Elinor. I like you. I think you’re a fantastic worker. But I simply cannot afford to keep losing the hours you’re supposed to be taking. So I’ve began looking for another worker. You will receive your cut-off notice today. I’ll give you a good reference for any new jobs you plan to take, but I suspect that with the contract you received from that talent recruiter, you may not need to worry. So, at least I know I’m not throwing you out for the wolves.”

Breathing fast, anxiety bubbling, Elinor forced herself to nod, though she hated hearing the speech, hated thinking that the workplace that had taken her under its wing for so many years was now spitting her out, because she couldn’t balance her time efficiently enough. This was her fault.

Richard did that voice and expression that made her feel guilty and inadequate, which didn’t help. In the end, she knew, logically, that this was going to happen. That it had to happen. Instead of addressing it early, of admitting to Richard that she couldn’t balance it or that the Café wasn’t worth it anymore, even though it sounded like she was stabbing the manager in the back – she left it to boil. To force him to fire her.

Because she didn’t want the responsibility of doing it herself.

To make matters worse, Karen eavesdropped outside, even though she was supposed to be working, and the smug satisfaction in her face made Elinor angry.

“About time. You can’t get away with messing people around like this forever.”

Elinor didn’t bother justifying herself, or saying anything at all. Karen was a waste of breath. She would not listen. She did not care. She had handed her apron to Richard Strong, and changed out of her work clothes, and she took one last, lingering look around the place that had been a sort of second home for her. Hours spent serving customers, listening to the hopefuls who sang on the stage, played their instruments and made Tina come into the place with her penguin earplugs, and Peter endure lots of inappropriate drawings on his arms and cheeks, much to the amusement of Tina and Elinor.

“I bet I could paint him blue and he would just walk around the city as a Smurf,” Tina had said once, on the table over here, near the counter, with a good and unobstructed view of the stage. How many times had Elinor sat here, in this chair, with the scratches on the legs, and the scrapes on the floor from being dragged out and in so much?

Then there was the welcome sight of Kostya Vasilev, then the man with the tattoos and a mystery behind them, in his shady corner, either tapping away on his phone or enduring terrible act after act on Fridays, or acting thoughtful at the ones who showed promise.

It wasn’t as if she would be unable to come to Velocity Café as a guest and even a guest singer. It was just the shift from being an active, contributing member of the team, seeing the place from the perspective of a worker, to becoming another customer for the staff to bi*ch about.

Would she even want to come back here, knowing that the staff no longer particularly liked her? Could she endure Karen’s snide glances, and see the new worker in her place, getting on like a house on fire?

Elinor did not know. She only knew that this chapter of her life was over, and it felt like a little bereavement in itself.