Sunday. Second day at The Wilsons as a part-timer. I would've said that it went well, because that was my expectations. Yet I found out it would be easier to not expect anything in the first place.
In the evening, as the shop was closing, I feel like there was a pressure in the air. Maybe it was the enclosed nature of the shop itself or the air had changed. Again, both were just maybe scenarios.
I was surprised that the bird didn't come to pester me at work line yesterday, but I couldn't be more than grateful. I may have not been a religious person, nor have I considered a religion for myself, but I thank whatever it is that had protected me from the bird's nagging even if temporarily.
But I digress, today, something happened. Mr. Wilson, while preparing a brew for himself, made a comment of the place, "I sure didn't made this place to be a circus. Not sure if any of the old ones going to appreciate the color vomit." It felt directed, though I initially didn't realize to whom it was meant to, Cuddy's reaction answered my curiosity.
Cuddy crossed her arms, then, she raised her chin high and squinted her eyes, "At least I made money from it. There's no point in doing this if we're in debt." She stated proudly. Despite the fact that they were not struggling financially, I did realize that the coffee shop might have not been so profitable as a business.
"Don't you dare use the snide on me, old man. The numbers don't lie. It works, Dad. My ideas made them come. They want a show; a spectacle. They come for the shine, the trend, and might try your brew too." Cuddy clearly thought over this decently well.
Jonah lingered between them, unmoving. His hands kept twitching toward either side, never really landing. Mrs. Wilson placed herself quietly near her husband. She said naught, but I felt that she was making a plea of understanding. Given the current situation, it might be the best approach to do.
I had no reason to be there—I've done my work. But somehow, I was. Cleaning tables, pretending not to listen, until Jonah dragged me into it... I'd be lying if I said that it didn't bother me, but I would be lying if I said that I am not curious of this. After all, my daily pay may get affected from this.
"You hear this too, right? Say something." Jonah pleaded. I didn't; I couldn't. I had nothing of value to add. It didn't help anyone.
In the end, I returned home quietly after the situation seemed to have calmed down. It should be fine, I think. Parents arguing with their kids are normal—I thought to myself. But it raised a question about myself.
Have I ever fought with Mom? I recounted none. Back then, I didn't interact much with her. She too, kept her distance from me. Dinner was the only time we would be in each other's vicinity. That too, was always riddled with silence.
I rested my head into the pillows. Was there ever a time when I would talk to Mom about something? No. There wasn't. She worked, and once I received my first paycheck, she stopped and I began to take care of her. I didn't expect she would be gone so soon. It eased up a few things while also brought a lot more. If she were here, maybe I would ask her how to handle the Wilsons.
I slept with a lot of thoughts inside my mind. One thing was for sure—it wouldn't be an easy week.