An Hour in the Workplace of Aerith Cockrane by Raederle
	Aerith Cockrane opened the back door to the coffee shop and clomped down the stairs like she always did, but carefully. More than once she'd been there when customers had come in the back way and fallen on their rumps claiming they hadn't known about the steps. She knew better, however, because a big sign in red letters greeted her obnoxiously every time she came to work, saying: "WATCH YOUR STEP!!" "Hi, Aerith!" her working partner Marle exclaimed, with her characteristic accent, or lack thereof. "Lucca told me this morning and told me to pass on that for every piece of pie we sell we get twenty-five cents." Aerith pulled her thick brown hair back with a once-upon-a-time-white scrunchie and picked up one of the aprons. It looked as if it would be a slow day, mostly because it was so gloomy outside. It had been raining off and on all day, and she thought this just as well, seeing how it matched her mood. Marle asked her for help lowering the counter. Quickly slipping into the life of the actress, she went over to help put it down. She supposed Marle would be making herself dinner soon. She always did take a break about the time Aerith arrived because she had been working since seven-thirty in the morning. Aerith couldn't imagine dealing with the customers for that long. She began to lower the counter. It slipped and slammed down on her finger. "Eeh!" she squealed in pain. Marle rushed over to lift the counter. Aerith pulled her hand out gingerly so the other girl could replace the counter. "Gee, are you okay?" Oh, I'll be alright," she looked at the small gash. It pulsated painfully. "Could you get me a bandaid?" Marle went, and Aerith raised her hand to her mouth. The familliar metallic warmth of the blood touched her tongue. It wouldn't do for the coffee-drinkers to think she was giving them AIDS, though she'd never really had the opportunity to contract the virus. Albeit they couldn't possibly know that. Marle returned with a bandaid and began her break. Aerith pulled the plastic strips tighly around the wound, and the throbbing strengthened. She washed her hands vigorously. A few people walked in. They sat down together at the table in the middle of the floor of The Coffee Corner. "Hi, can I get you anything?" A rotund blond woman held the menu away from her face and squinted. "What kind of soups do you have?" Her voice sounded pampered. Aerith raised an eyebrow and wondered from how far above the Mason-Dixon line she came. The information the woman was looking for was on the big chalk board under: Soups. But it was her job, and she didn't really mind. "Mexican Burrito and Chicken with Wild Mushrooms." "I think I'll have a roast beef sandwich with Mexican soup and a coca." She took the others' orders and went behind the counter to prepare the food. She shuddered as she had to pick up the slimy roast beef. The white fat dangling from the sides was disgusting. Usually the food at The Coffee Corner was very appealing, but roast beef repulsed her in general. Carrying the food to them, she noticed them softly laughing at her. She set the food down, trying her best not to spill anything." "Honey, I ordered a coca. Not a hot chocolate." Aerith almost slipped out of character. Be submissive. "That is cocoa." "Not cocoa. A coca." The woman smiled with smug corpulence. Aerith feigned innocence by widening her eyes. "What's a coca?" "A soft drink. A Coca-Cola. Did you really think I wanted a hot chocolate with this hot soup, dear?" "I'm so sorry. I'll get you your Coke." She walked briskly to the cooler and returned with the Coke. "I'll take that away m'am. I'm so sorry." "Oh, don't worry. I suppose I can drink it afterwards." Aerith saw her eyeballing the whipped cream and chocolate jimmies on top of the cocoa. She said her can I get you anything else's and went over to a table in the corner where a man and his wife had just sat. The man was smoking calmly and tapping the ashes onto the floor. "Sir, I'm sorry but I can't allow you to smoke." Be apologetic. Be understanding. "No smoking in here?" Tap-tap. She shook her head. Tap-tap. "No, sir. He got up and went outside to finish the cigarette. Stepping on the ashes as he left, grinding them into the floor. "Well, I guess I'll order for him." the wife drawled. A local. The loud grinder went off as she made their cappuccino and con panna. Most of the time, she wished it weren't so loud. People noticed her. However, she welcomed it because that meant she didn't have to listen to the fat blond's account of how stupid her waitress was to a new woman who had just entered. Ha-ha. Hee-hee. She delivered the coffee to the wife and her husband who had returned. They looked at her expectantly, as if she would grow two more arms and have their meal. Be helpful. "I'll be right back with your food. Bagel sandwich. Lite Chilled Parfait with no kiwi or banana. Granola, yogurt, fruit, repeat. Set to the side. Lay out the veggies. Use napkin to put the bagel in the toaster. Grab the napkins. Get burned on the toaster. "Eeh," she squeeked irritably. The flesh on her thumb had smoothed out and was white. "Bleeping toaster," she muttered arranging everything and adding the whipped cream to the Lite Chilled Parfait. The new customer at the fat woman's table gave her an evil look as she provided the lunch to the other table. Aerith figured she'd get over it. They wouldn't tip her anyway, and there was really nothing she could do. Marle deserved a break. On her way back, she got the woman's order. She received a long suffering sigh and was told: "Oh, I'm not hungry. Just get me some iced tea." So she got it for her. Aerith leaned on the counter and sucked on her thumb. She was planning on how to coax her mother off the computer so that she could write her essay for English class. Then there were those algebra problems and her French translation to do. She'd need some coffee before she went home. She loved the rich smell of coffee. Unlike that Mexican soup. With coffee she could smell, almost sense the caffeine within it. With the soup all she could smell was indigestion. The man and wife left, and Aerith roused herself to sweep up the conglomeration of crumbs and ashes left around the table. No tip. She went to wash her hands. It's important that we're clean, Lucca had said. They can see everything we do. A loud cackle arose from the fat woman's table. Apparently, a great story was being told about how two of them had gotten a young man fired from the nearest Walmart. Irresponsible kids. That reminded her of the money for her trip to Paris. She had already put the money aside, but she would have to bring that to her French teacher the next day. That reminded he of the French quiz she'd have to take in the morning. Zuit. Cecil from across the street had come into the shop. A short, slightly balding man, he came right to the counter and banged his fist good naturedly. He slapped down a five-dollar bill. Aerith grinned, genuinely. "How's it going?" She grabbed the small to-go cup and started the espresso machine. "Not bad. Not bad." He drummed his hands on the counter. Double shot of espresso. Touch of skim milk. "Here y'go." Clack-clack-clack-clunk went the register. "Have a good day." "You keep the change." Clink-clink of change into the tip jar. Cecil wasn't very attractive. His face was rough, and his hands were very rough, but he was nice to her. Once she had accidently rung up one hundred dollars for a ten he had given her. He had just laughed and waited for her to straighted it out. When Lucca had dropped that entire container of peaches, he stayed and helped her clean up. It made Aerith feel better to know that the boss made mistakes too. Be unobtrusive. She approached the ladies and asked if any of them would care for drink refills of dessert. The fat woman ordered a piece of triple chocolate cheesecake to-go. Aerith served it up in a styrofoam container and sighed because however cheap it was she felt guilty using to-go materials that wouldn't biodegrade. Poison the environment so a woman who didn't need a dessert could choke it down later. As she gave it to the woman she noticed how dark her roots were. She was a blond, but she had bleached it much lighter than it really was. Aerith couldn't understand that. If her hair had been that color to begin with, she'd dye it purple, not that blatantly fake yellow blond color everyone seemed to like. The woman asked how long they had been open. Since the beginning of the summer. Really, I've never noticed. Aerith pocketed her bonus quarter. The ladies left, and Marle had just finished her break, so she helped clear the table. "Gosh, they ate alot didn't they?" The older girl with real wheat-colored hair laughed. "And Lucca says you have a hollow-leg." They took the dishes to the dish washer, and Aerith got a washcloth. No tip. She marveled at how quickly the presence of those women had been erased from the table in the middle of the floor of The Coffee Corner. Aside from the register's record and her memories, they hadn't existed at all. Aerith smirked. She went back behind the counter and put the washcloth in the sink. She looked at the clock with her blurred eyes. She rubbed her fingers and relaxed her face into the usual frown that the customers should never see. It had only been an hour, and she had so much to do before she got home.