"Unit Dose" A pharmacy student novel... yes... a novel (Fiction) work in progress Expected chapter#.draft# - 01.04
Last touched: 6/25/09
Initial write date: 1/25/09
"Hi, how can I be of service?" I asked as she approached the cash register. She was a nice looking asian chick, about my age, in black petticoat, looks a little older than me, early thirties, nice face and freckles, seems new here. She'd be prettier if she grew out her hair. But I say that about all girls with shorter hair because I like long hair. Hmm, I don't recall seeing her before. I was hoping that this one customer would be taken care of in a few minutes so that I could get back to the order that came in today.
"I just want to buy this," she said as she drops some deodorant on the countertop. "Can I buy this here?"
"Of course. No drugs for pick up then?" I asked, hoping she'd say no so I wouldn't have to scour around for the drug. It’s not that I’m lazy, I just don’t like being at the cashier too much.
"Nope," she put in with a pop of the 'puh' at at the end of the word. Thank you very much, missy, for understanding I have a lot of crap to do besides sell you fucking deodorant. Quickly I scanned the deodorant, wanting to get the hell away from the cash register lest another customer walks in to ask where the paper plates are.
"So how's school, Fred? Touro doing well?" she asked out of nowhere, and it took me by surprise. She knew what school I was going to. In my mind I visualized my dingy white coat and confirmed I wasn't wearing anything signifying I went there. Nope. It's just the same old pharmacy white coat that Long's Drugs gave me as an intern student.
"Have we met? I'm sorry... The total's three dollars and fifty- um- two cents." I gave her a good look and realized that she looked a little cuter now. Supposed familiarity can make anyone look better, not that she needed any help.
"Um, I think I last saw you like two years ago. Still here, huh? I'm a pharmacist too... how many more years in pharmacy school?" she asked, although technically I'm a student still, not a licensed pharmacist. She handed me five dollars and I proceeded to ring her out.
"Almost done with school... six months. Odd saying that, it still feels like I just started a year ago. No I don't mean that. School seems like it had been going on forever,” I took a deep breath after realizing that talking to her had a little more depth to the conversation than I had anticipated. Which is odd, considering I've only been talking to her for a minute. "Dollar forty-eight is your change."
"Thanks. Wow, ya it's a drag... but you're almost there then." she put in clearly disinterested. She was done with me wanted to get out of the store, from what I could tell.
"Ya, I'm tired... it's been a long journey."
"Well, keep at it, you'll be a good pharmacist. And good luck, kay?" she said as she left the counter and disappeared into the analgesic aisle. I forgot to say, "Thank you for shopping here at Long's," as required by store policy but honestly, who the ef cares except for upper management? Instead I just took a deep breath and as I turned to my right to see the rest of the pharmacy. I kind of frowned looking at the off-white nastiness of it all: dirty shelves full of antidepressants, pain meds and antihypertensives. Off way back on the other side was Prita, a relief pharmacist, huddled in her own world trying to get a closer look at a script. Realizing I was just standing there and staring into nothingness, she looked across the pharmacy at me.
"Do you have a question, Fred?" she asked amiably. She's pretty cool, from what I could get from the past three work hours I’ve known her. Five hours from now, after my shift is done and we leave this pharmacy, I’ll probably forget her name and some other relief pharmacist will take her place.
"Nah... just getting my bearing back." I shot out pretty loudly. She nodded and went right back to her work. As for me, where was I? Oh ya... the drug shipment.
... Yeah, but something wasn't right...
...
"Fred?" Prita interrupted, "Are you okay?" I think she said it twice before I clicked back into reality. The haziness of the pharmacy disappeared and ironically focused in on the Clozaril in my hand. I shook out the stupor in my head and looked at her a little befuddled. She asked, "You don't look so good. Did you want to go home?"
"No," I replied, and oddly my face scrumpled up as tears began to well up in my face. It wasn't as if I was about to cry, but something inside me emotionally was off. "I'm doing fine, I'm not sick or anything."
Prita grabbed an empty, green shipment container I had previously emptied, stood it on its side and asked me to sit on it. "You don't look so good," she said. "It's pretty slow right now, take a break."
"I'm okay, I got a lot to do" I told her, to which she replied that she is the pharmacist in charge, and being that she is legally responsible for everything involving pharmacy at this store - including me the intern - I was to do as told... so I sat on the makeshift chair as Prita took up my job of checking in the drug order.
"It's weird..." I began although I didn't know where I was going. An awkward silence took up the next ten seconds, but Prita didn't respond to my surprise, because deep down inside I think I wanted for her to respond,or even show some feigned interest. It didn't dawn on me until later that night that she responded by doing what all good health care professionals do; she listened.
Prita continued to do the drug order, and while she looked preoccupied with her work, it felt comforting to believe she was listening to me. And for reasons I'll never know, I spoke up, "I think I screwed up."
"What, with the drug order?" she joked.
"No," I paused and thought before I spoke, maybe to add a little fake gravity to the moment. "There's this quote from some movie I saw a while ago, where this woman decides to buys a burning house even though she knows it'll be the death of her, well, actually that's not too important, but she says, "The end is built in the beginning." And the idea behind it has been bothering me. As I interpret it... well I think it means these decisions we make in our lives, well once we make them... well, they stick. These choices resonate with us for the rest of our lives," I paused to think, "I don't know."
"The end is bu... the end is..." Prita was trying to make sense of the quote.
"The end is built into the beginning." I corrected her.
"...Regarding choices we make. So what... did you make a wrong choice?"
"Yeah... I think it's a big regret I have... I think I screwed up."
"I'm not sure there is such a thing as wrong choice. Whatever decision we make... sorry to stand on a soapbox... but whatever choice we make will always be a good choice... and it's a choice - a decision - we must accept, regardless of the outcome."
I didn't know how to respond because she sounded horrendously cliche and plus I didn't really catch all of what she said. Politely I nodded my head and tried to fake I knew what she was talking about. Prita paused from her work and looked at me with eyes that understood that something was not right. At first I thought she caught on that I had no clue what she said, but then I realized she was looking deeper. It was odd as her face showed a friend I didn't know I had four hours ago. "Freddy, How old are you?" she asked.
"Twenty-eight." I said, feeling old after saying so.
"Clearly at that young age you are not at the end, but still at the beginning. You seem smart, or at least you watch smart movies. And I like that. You're a good kid. You work hard. " Prita inhaled and exhaled to give herself time to think, "We have four hours left here in the pharmacy. I want you to take a four hour lunch and get out of here. Four hours, and I want you to come back here before we close up shop. So you can clock out."
"No I can't do that, I'll get in trouble..."
"No you won't get in trouble," Prita took a commanding, slightly annoyed tone," Legally Freddy, it's my pharmacy and you are my intern, so if you get in trouble it's my problem not yours. And like I said earler, being that you are my intern, you do what I tell you to do. So, head out of here and do I dunno, go for a walk, get some fresh air get your head back on straight... or maybe take a step towards fixing what you so vehemently say you screwed up."
"No, no no... I can't," I was shaking my head to show my determination to stay.
"Yes, you are out of here... Please." She looked at me with a sliver of real humanity, something we don't see to often any more. And I could tell by her tone of voice she was set on me leaving. She smiled and continued on, "And besides it's a beautiful day today... I'd be sad to see the both of us miss out on it."
I didn't know what to say to that. I smiled, laughed a little, took off my old pharmacy white coat, thanked her and walked out of Long's not knowing what I was going to do next.
Actually, there were eight hundred things I could think of doing to help fix things up, but honestly, I didn't think I had the balls to do any of them.
02.01 clock phone, no answer
decision to drive to house,
mom, lost job
talk about life, hers, yours, morgan's
"She was a regret to me. I looked at her and wondered if she knew what she meant to me. I realized that this was the moment, this was my chance to fix this regret. This was the moment I needed to tell her I loved her."
A part of me wished I had brought a book to
read. I don't even like books but eating dinner out can just
be an awkward thing when you're lonely, even if it is your favorite
sushi restaurant. I was off on the chair at the corner of the sushi bar
counter - my usual spot - and Kathleen was standing up and fiddling
beside me with a plate full of seaweed salad. The waitress looked tired but composed as she eventually wandered behind me while
flashing her Japanese-y smile ever so nonchalantly.
"Merry
Christmas!" a very familiar feminine voice rang out. It wasn't even
close to Christmas, but the voice didn't lie because it told me exactly
who was saying it; I knew it was Sophie even before I turned around.
It's a stupid thing - I will venture - how your heart does drop at even
the slightest, unexpected hint of the girl you accidentally fell for
being nearby. Be it her scent, a hug, a peck on the cheek or even the
unseen voice, Sophie was that girl for me. I fell in love with her
the moment she first flashed her braces at me nine years ago in high
school.
"Hey Sophie, haha, what are you doing here?" I got
out as she draped her coat over the bar chair next to me after a
cautiously-friendly hug. I was surprised to see my best friend at the
restaurant, but my honest surprise sounded stilted and wooden to me.
At this point in our prolonged friendship I was faking pretty much
everything. Seriously, what are you supposed to do when you hide
liking someone for that long? No matter how honest your conversations
are, it's like you're lying to her all the time by keeping your
feelings in. And it sucks. It royally sucks having to fake it, and
it's exhausting to keep up a superficial facade, and I do question if
our friendship is worth all the torment. I dunno. I think when you
secretly like a person long enough and never ever get the nerve to say
you like her, eventually every day that you spend with her will be a
bad day. And plus, she has a boyfriend... of nearly a goddamn year.
"What
am I doing here? You have the nerve to ask? It's my favorite
restaurant too," she jokingly replied, "Hey ya'll know
Jackie." And ya, of course I know Jack-o, Jack the Prick, he's the fuck
whose fucking you at night and in my worst nightmares.
"Yaya,
of course I know Jack," he's a prick. I shot him a fake smile and
thumbs up, and he patted me on the back as if I was a damn puppy dog.
I rolled my eyes as I looked at Kathleen who reached over the counter
and gave the two the menus that she had. She saw my reaction and
matter-of-factly played along with a quaint smile even though she had
no clue why I rolled my eyes. Trying to get my mind off of Jack the
Prick, I decided to get back to introductions. With a hint of sarcasm,
I asked, "You remember Kathy, right?"
"Of course. Dearest
Kathy," Sophie earnestly smiled out to Kathleen. "Howsit going?
Anything ya'll recommend for tonight? We're starved."
"Long time
no see and I'm doing good." Kathleen got in with a courteous smile,
"And try out the seared ahi. It's fresh and tasty, and Panda-san here
recommends it." Actually, Panda-san is Billy, the Mexican behind the
counter doing up the sushi rolls, and upon hearing Kathleen he yipped
an agreement to her recommendation. Billy is a good guy, and he has
these oddball Mexican/Japanese fusions he always makes and gives out to
us for free. We may be guinea pigs, but every so often he gets the
mexi-melted Lion King Roll just right. Anyway, I never did like
Panda-san as a nick-name, and I'm sure he's gone crazy hearing Kathleen
and others call him that. He should be called El Bandito, because that sounds badass.
Sophie
and Jack the Prick settled down into their seats perpendicular to me
on my left. In turn, I no longer had a comfortable view of the
bustling restaurant but instead had a very intimate view of Sophie's
new short haircut and Jack the Prick's fucking pearly whites. You know
it's great: me having dinner with Jack the Prick and the girl he's tit
fucking. At least to my right I could watch Kathleen twiddle around
bored out of her wits or Billy cussing out the spicy tuna before
happily taking a knife to it. But seeing Sophie at the sushi bar
really put a downer to my evening, and having her sitting right beside
me was the cherry on top. I was tempted to jump on the counter
vigorously yelling out "Panda-san" over and over again at Billy in
hopes he'd take a knife to my chest. But I decided not to because
then the last thing I'd see (next to my still-beating heart plated with
a side of wasabi and pickled ginger) would be Jack the Prick's pearly
whites grinning it up. No thank you. And what the fuck? Does that
guy take bleach to his teeth or something?
"Well I hope you
don't mind if we join ya'll," Sophie said as Jack the Prick ordered a
few drinks from Billy, "There's a wait for seating cuz' it's pretty
busy here tonight, but the seats at the bar..."
"Sophie, you
always eat at the sushi counter. Come on, that 's obvious. You're
more than welcome to eat here." I shot in because I know her well
enough to know she likes watching sushi getting made. Sophie smiled at
my small recognition of her subtlety as Jack the Prick raised his
just-received glass of piss and toasted Kathleen who smiled back but
was preoccupied talking shop with Panda-san about the order he was
doing.
"Hey y'always eat at this stupid seat too," Sophie quietly and coyly
replied as she raised her wine glass to her dimple, "Always on ya own island and never ever in the crowds, Dorko. I just didn't want to be a bother and take up ya space," I hate it when she silences her Texas-slanted voice like that
and frames her smile in such an elegant fashion. It's such a tease. As
if we have a secret between us. But wait, I take that back; she's
hiding nothing and it's me who has such the fucking thing for her. But
anyway, I didn't hear Jack the Prick's drink order, but I knew she had
the cheap, albeit fruity, house chardonnay in her hand, like she
always gets with sushi here at this restaurant. And midway through the
sushi dinner, she oddly gets a half Coke and half lemonade. Trust me,
she always does. I've had so many nights out with her that I blindly
know what she has going to have on hand wherever she is. Like for
instance, she always gets the Coors Light at baseball games (along with
nachos and cheese minus the pepperchinis), the Cherry Coke at the movie
theatres (along with gummy bears or the occasional Milk Duds), and
plain old bottled water at the clubs (she doesn't like getting sloshed
or dehydrated while dancing).
"Hey, it's nice to see you..." I weakly got out.
"Where's ya usual Kirin?" she asked, which freaked me out and made me
wonder if she heard my previous inner monologue about beverages. I doubt she can read thoughts though, but I wish she could. Then maybe she could read my mind
about how much I love her, or at least get a hint that there is some
deeper meaning in everything I do for her in our relationship. Friendship, actually, not relationship.
"I
dunno, Kathleen's prolly took it already, "to which I smiled after
realizing the glass was empty and the Kirin bottle gone," Katheee," I
emphasized the 'eee,'
"is apparently having a bad work week with all her customers and wanted to drown out her sorrows." Sophie snorted at the unfunny joke and
looked cute while doing it. Kathleen, who was obviously eavesdropping,
looked over and smiled with indifferent agreement. "I like the hair,
when did you get it cut?" I whispered to Sophie. She blushed a rosy red at my comment and turned her head away. I think I need to stop complimenting
her because I've seriously grown accustomed to loving that smile that
comes right afterwards.
"I got it cut like a month ago,
Dorko. Like two inches. Haha, wow has it been over a month since I've
seen ya'll?" she wondered. She's right, it's been like a month and a
half since we last spoke to each other, "But thanks. I'm surprised ya'll
noticed. No one at work noticed except for Dale." Dale, for those of
you who care, is Sophie's Third Grade equivalent (Sophie teaches Fifth
Grade at Sumpter Elementary off of Scoffield Street). I'm pretty sure he has a crush on Sophie too, that little fuck.
"Well, it sort of... flips a little out at the ends. It's pretty cool." Flips was
a good word to use at the moment; it's a light and airy descriptor and
was definitely appropriate, and I accentuated it even moreso with a
hair flipping motion with my hands. She looked at me with a crooked
smile - dimple and all - and I cringed inside remembering that I have
to stop complimenting her. It's these stupid feelings I get around her
that's pretty much sucks away my very existence and makes me want to
avoid her. Because who am I kidding? I'm so in love with her, so...
frustrated yet comfortable, perplexed yet intrigued by her, by her
stupid existence, by our shitty-ass chemistry and my inability to tell
her that I fell in love with her nine years ago and haven't figured out
what to do next ever since.
"Flips out a little?" She smiled,
"Ya, I like that... and," she paused, "thanks for noticing." Of course
I'm going to notice. You're the girl I want, the girl I desire, the
girl I loved. You're stupid-sarcastic like me, you like a lot of the
things I like (making up astronomy to pass away the time), hate the
same things I hate (horror movies), cultured and fun with an
appreciation for not only musicals at the theatre but also baseball
Americana. And she spells theatre like theatre instead of theater.
I always thought that was cool ever since we had an argument over it in
an early match of Scrabble between us. And she also spells traveling right with one 'l' rather than two. I hate people who spell traveling wrong. It's the worst way to start a vacation and completely irks my obsessive compulsive tendencies. I'm not crazy mind you
(even though I do obsess over certain... things). I'm just an Editor for
the local newspaper with an appreciation for the English language, so
it's a bit of a passion to obsess over words... and yeah, okay... over
Sophie... for nine years. And yes I know how English does butcher the
beauty of dialogue in comparison to the more sophisticated languages,
like Italian or Spanish. Sophie and I once had an hour-long talk under
an apple tree about how words just sound better in Spanish. For
example, reservacion just sound more eloquent with that 'aah-sheeon' sound than reservation with that harsh 'Ay-shin' sound.
It's
tough, I guess, to find good friends to talk about silly things like
that. And it's tougher, I know, to understand that I walked away from
loving her as a boyfriend many years ago and walked blindly into loving
her even more as a best friend.
"So what are you and Kathleen doing out tonight anyway?" Sophie asked.
"It's our three year anniversary," Kathleen said as the waitress behind her placed the House special roll in front of us.
"Congratulations
you two!" Jack the Prick got out as he patted me on the back. God what
a prick. Sophie smiled and framed her face again with the wine glass
she brought up to her dimple.
"Actually it was on the fifteenth,
yesterday, when we met right here," beamed Kathleen, "but we couldn't celebrate over the work
week so here we are tonight! We ate here the last two years and I
think it's becoming a tradition, so guess we'll be here next year as
well. It was the fifteenth, right Honey?" I nodded. And I remember
that night; Sophie got stuck in traffic and couldn't make it to dinner
with me. Oddly, I recall wishing I had a book that evening to get me
through another lonely, awkward dinner. But there was Kathleen,
sitting at the sushi bar counter all alone as well. But she's a fun
person to talk to. And she's beautiful, really she is. She has great
dirty-blond hair and a great smile. And she's great to talk to.
Really. A nice person at heart. "Well to that special
occasion... " Sophie paused, "...we shall toast to my best friend and the
girl of his dreams!" and we toasted. I watched while sipping my water
as Sophie downed most of her chardonnay. Her cheeks instantly began to
glow that familiar rosy color.
"Thanks you guys," Kathleen
gushed out afterwards. I smiled a crooked smile, which was definitely
partially happy and definitely partially fake, and really I didn't have
much to say afterwards although I felt like I should say something.
Fortunately I was saved by the waitress who brought out the seared ahi
from behind the counter for Sophie and Jack the Prick to nibble on.
And just like clockwork, although a little early...
"Waitress,"
she began, "Can ya'll get me a glass of half Coke and half lemonade
please?" The waitress nodded, and I felt like shit.
A's pitch a shutout
Giants Win in 12
Warriors in the Playoffs after 13
Sharks up 3-1 in the playoffs
Fred goes 2-3 (2 singles, RBI) in softball
Dodgers lose...
Does it get better than this, this night of nights???
"I think when you secretly like a person long enough and never ever get the nerve to say you like her, eventually every day that you spend with her will be a bad day." anon
"She
was a young girl I saw at a party that some guy neither of us knew put
on. For reasons beyond me when I first talked to her, I pressed and
pressed and found out she liked musicals. I remembered I
lied to her just so that we could get a conversation started. I never
lie and I never press, but she got to me in a way no other girl had
ever gotten to me, and in turn I loved musicals just as much as she
did. I saw Oklahoma
once at the local high school a year before, and thank the Lord that was
enough to get me through the night and convince her I was worth a snot.
You would have lied too at that party. She had on these gray,
pin-striped dress pants, which made her butt that much bigger and the
outlines of her panties that much more obvious. Asians never have
butts, but she did and boy was it sexy! She wore a simple dress shirt
on top, a black button up that hugged her waist and made it clear she
was pretty damn pretty-looking. The only color on her besides her red
lipstick was the aquablue stone dangling from her necklace. It was a
gift from her Grandma who lived in Thailand.
A lot of my
friends weren't impressed with her beauty and called her plain. I
guess they were blind if ya'll asked me, but if she was plain, man did
she know how to do "plain" really, really well. And me, well I pale in
comparison to her beautiful looks. I ain't handsome, but she liked my
blue eyes and long eyelashes enough to give me a chance. Together,
however, well I can't think of a more cuter couple, but I guess my
opinion is a little biased.
It
wasn't much that did it for me that night. I just remember her flashing
that toothy smile of hers with that one dimple popping out every time a
joke was heard. She had straight teeth, which may not sound cute on
paper, but in my mind it made such a difference. I just had to meet
her, maybe possibly graze her pitch black hair that had a slightly wavy
feel to it. The fullness of her hair was definitely
accentuating the curves in her body, and boy I remember how much I
longed to touch them both that night. My desire for her was a beautiful
feeling, really.
And
there she was by the warmly lit fireplace, circling the rim of her wine
glass with her right index finger in a manner not provocative, but more
intriguing because she was doing it in a way that was very pretty.
Okay, it was horribly sexy. It was such a simple motion, but it
made me forget where I was or how I found myself standing next to her.
But there I was awkwardly right behind her, looking away and
pretending to look cool as I carried a silent conversation with the
fireplace. And right when I was about to leave, she told me, "Nice
hat, cowboy." To which I replied with a proper tip of my brim. She
gave me an in, and there was no way in Hell I was going to pass it up.
So one thing led to another, and somewhere in between I was butchering
People Will Say We're in Love with partially made up lyrics
while dancing a poor white man's jig in hopes of impressing. As dumb
as that was, it got her to smile, and it made me smile to see her
smile. By night's end she had my cowboy hat in her hand and I had her
phone number in mine.
Her name is Sophie, she is now my
wife of seventeen years, a mother of two girls, and I love her madly.
She still has my old cowboy hat, and boy does it look really nice on
her."
