Where is he? she thought. Elizabeth sat on the couch scrolling through her phone. Her eyes were glassy with exhaustion, haunted underneath by the day’s dark circles. She’d taken her contacts out and put her glasses on, one step closer to the place of dreams. She let her eyelids slip slowly down then yanked them back open when she realized she was sleeping and not blinking. Her phone screen reflected off the glass lenses as she scrolled and scrolled. He must have worked late. I’m so hungry. I wonder if Dad’ll call back. Probably not. I hope Dave remembers to grab supper. I wonder how Mom’s doing. I can’t wait to go to sleep.

Dave came through the door with his hands full of groceries. The bags shushed against each other with the crinkle of plastic.

“Hello. You’re home. What took you so long?” asked Elizabeth as she smiled as much as she could with her sleep soaked face. It was a dear and pleasant smile as warm as a hug and as refreshing as an autumn breeze.

“We got out a little late, and I had trouble finding things at the store.”

“Okay. Are you ready to eat?”

“Sure,” said Dave as he headed to the kitchen. “How was work?”

“Not good.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Everyone was in such a bad mood. ‘Where’s my package? Why don’t you have this in red? Well, you better give me a refund!’ I had a customer make monkey noises at me today. Not good.”

“Monkey noises?”

“Yes. She told me, ‘I bet you’re a rep from one of those dumb states in the South. I always get you stupid reps. I bet you didn’t even graduate high school! I bet you can’t even read! I bet you’re inbred!’ And then she just started making monkey noises.”

“Did you tell her to shut up?” asked Dave.

“No.”

“Reasons why I can’t work in a call center. You’re so patient with these people. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Thanks. I don’t know either.”

“Did you transfer her to the offensive line once she started ‘oohing’ at you?”

“No. It’s too much work to do that.”

“Yeah, it’d be easier if she just wasn’t a jerk in the first place.”

“Right. If I transfer her, I have to find the call later, I have to write a report to my supervisor saying what happened, and I have to do both of those on the clock and in between calls or spend my break taking care of it. It’s more hassle than it’s worth.” I hate Christmas. I hate the way it makes people behave.

“I understand. It’s easy for me to say, ‘She’s a bully. She needs to be socked in the mouth so she shuts up.’ But, you’re the one who has to throw the punches when I say that.”

“Yep.” And tomorrow, I spend all day taking more punches.

“I gave a homeless guy some money on the way home.”

“Oh yeah?” Why on earth would you do that? You’re always complaining about money, and there you go, giving it away.

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“Yeah… I know we don’t have a lot to give. I know you work hard, so I feel kind of bad just handing it out.”

“No, you work hard too. It’s your money too. How much did you give him?”

“Seven bucks, I think.”

“Oh, okay. That’s not bad.” That’s an hour of your life, Dave! How can you do that? We have bills to pay. You don’t pay them though; I pay them. I pay all the bills. I do all the chores. All you do is sit around and be sad. Get over it. Your sister passed away years ago. You’re only sad because you won’t do anything with yourself. I have problems too. My parents have been at war since before I was born. I’ve lost people too. I don’t get to see my brothers and sisters for Thanksgiving or Christmas. My dad barely talks to me. My mom only calls for one of two reasons: she needs something, or she wants to talk about Grey’s Anatomy. I—

“Thanks. I knew you’d understand. You’re the best.”

“Of course. It’s only seven bucks.” I’m being too hard on him. I’m being too hard on everyone.

“Thank you for working so hard today.”

“We’ve gotta get by somehow.” I just want it to stop. I want the fighting to stop. I want my family to get over themselves. I want you to get over yourself. You weren’t born to pay bills and die, Dave. Figure that out.

“I’m sorry that woman called you a monkey.”

“Bitter about that.” I want you to do something with yourself, Dave. Go back to school. Look for a better job. Do something. Anything.

“You want me to kick her ass for you?” asked Dave with a wolfish grin.

“No. What good’ll that do?” It’d be a start. I’d rather you just keep cooking.

“I dunno. I just thought I’d ask.”

“I had another customer threaten to sue me.”

“What?”

“First, he was trying to get the name and address of whoever he was on the phone with previously, so he could sue them. When I told him I didn’t have access to that information and that I wasn’t allowed to send him another order for free, he threatened to sue me.”

“What on Earth?”

“Yep. He also kept asking for our CEO’s personal information so he could sue her.”

“What a crazy person.”

“Later, someone in my team was asking on the group chat to see if anyone had been threatened with a lawsuit. I said that had happened to me, and she asked if I’d refused to send the man a free order of his vitamins. I told her it was me, and she said, “Well, he’s looking for you.”

“Holy cow!”

“I mean, there’s nothing he can do. I didn’t give him any information other than my first name and employee number.”

“I bet he was from New York.”

“He was from New York.”

“Unbelievable. You know, imagine how many pushups and situps he could have gotten done in the time he was on the phone. He must have spent at least three hours trying to sue people.”

“Why pushups and situps?”

“Well, I just imagine he has a bit of a gut that his thin white t-shirt won’t cover-up. He’s walking around his apartment, scratching his belly, and smoking a cigarillo while he yells on the phone.”

“Oh yeah?” chuckled Elizabeth. “Anything else about him?”

“He drinks a lot of kool-aid; that’s why his belly’s so big.”

“Why kool-aid?” You’re a goober.

“That’s what I’m asking. If you’re going to drink your calories, there are plenty of tastier options. He drinks kool-aid though because that’s what his mom used to make him. Every day, he’d come home from school to a big red glass of ice-cold sugar water to wash down his chocolate chip cookies. ‘Momma, you bake the best cookies,’ he’d say. Things haven’t been the same since she passed away.”

“Hello, real life.”

“Indeed.”

“How’d she go?”

“Statistically, it was a heart attack or breast cancer.”

“Okay, but how did she die?”

“You could say the smoking killed her.”

“How?”

“Well, she was driving to the corner store to pick up another pack of smokes when she rear-ended the car in front of her.”

“So, she died from a car accident.”

“Well, it was the heart attack that really did it.”

“While she was trying to buy cigarettes.”

“Right. They rushed her to the hospital where they found out she had stage four breast cancer. Her body couldn’t take the trauma from the heart attack with the cancer, so it just quit. Didn’t even turn in a two weeks notice, just didn’t show up for work the next day.”

“What was our kool-aid drinking lawyer doing while his mother passed away? Was he at the hospital?”

“He was at the hospital. But, he steps outside for a smoke break. He smokes one, then figures he’ll have another. And another. Just to deal with the stress. These are hard times. His brother comes out of the hospital. It’s late at night, early in the morning. His brother says, ‘She’s gone, Frank.’ He drops his cigarillo and cries into his brother’s shoulder. He realizes that the cigarettes caused his mom to get into a wreck that day. He still can’t put’em down. He just wants to join her for another smoke sometime.”