Chapter 8
When Kurt returns to Jo Jo’s, I can tell from the look on his face that I’m about to make him a large iced tea lemonade.
He tosses The Handmaid’s Tale on the counter in front of me. “You were right,” he says. His voice cracks on the word “right.”
“Would you like your drink for here or to go?” I ask, grinning.
“Here,” he says, and I grab a large glass and fill it with ice.
“So, tell me what you thought.” That’s how I used to start reading discussions with my students. An open-ended question for hopefully unfiltered results. What were your initial impressions?
“Don’t put too much ice in there,” Kurt says, eyeing the glass. I roll my eyes at him but dump out some of the ice. “I just…can’t believe they treat women that way.” He eyes me meaningfully. “They treat them like they’re worthless.”
“How so?” I pour some lemonade into the glass.
Kurt tilts his head, pondering. “Well, actually, I guess they don’t think they’re worthless.
I guess they think they’re only good for one thing.
But only if they give up control of it.” His eyes widen.
“Or maybe because they were only good for one thing, they couldn’t have control over that one thing. ”
I nod, pouring in the tea. “Okay, and why do you think some people want this book banned?”
Kurt stares at the drink as I drop in a metal straw and stir the liquids together. He sticks out his hand to grab it, but I raise my eyebrows and nod, prompting him to answer me first.
He sighs loudly, then stares at the ceiling, thinking. “I think…the idea of the government controlling women’s bodies doesn’t feel unfamiliar in America.”
“Impressive, Kurt,” I say, handing him his drink. “You can analyze books. And you read the news.”
“My girlfriend taught me all about this. She cares a lot about this stuff. Politics stuff.” He takes a sip of the drink and immediately looks five times more alert. “I told her what you said about it being banned and that she should read the book. Also, thank you for the drink.”
Recommending the book to his girlfriend after I encouraged him to finish it is probably the highest compliment I’ve ever received, even though it was technically his teacher who gave him this assignment. I’ll take partial credit anyway.
There’s no one in line behind him, and Rose is completely engrossed in her phone, so I allow my teacher instincts to come to the surface.
“Do you want another book rec?” I ask him.
He looks at me with interest. “Another banned book?”
I rack my brain. I wish I didn’t have an internal list of all banned books, but unfortunately, I do. The ones banned in Florida, anyway.
“Okay, Kurt,” I say. “You wanna try some Kurt Vonnegut?”
“Nice name,” he says, nodding.
“You have a library card?” I ask, and he nods. “Go check out Slaughterhouse-Five.”
Kurt salutes me, which is oddly appropriate for the content matter, although he doesn’t know it yet. “Can I bring my girlfriend to discuss it next time?”
“I think you’ve reached your limit on free drinks, but yes, feel free to bring her and any friends you want. It’s a great book. Crass at times, but really raw. And funny.”
“Maybe they’ll give me extra credit if I write two essays for summer reading instead of one,” he says. What a scholar.
“Go for it. Let me know when you’ve finished it, and we’ll discuss.”
He nods, then walks to a table on the other side of the café and settles in with his laptop.
“You can take the teacher out of the classroom, but you can’t take the teacher out of the teacher,” Rose says from behind me.
I turn toward her, squinting. “Or something like that.”
“Why aren’t you teaching anymore?” she asks.
“I didn’t like it,” I say simply. To the point and honest, even if it’s not the whole truth. Rose looks skeptical, so I continue before she can ask me questions that make me feel worthless. “And Jo and I are best friends from college, so I—”
“I KNEW it,” Rose yelps. “You are a nepo baby.”
Kurt looks up from his table and smirks at me. I feel oddly embarrassed.
“Did you even have to interview for this job?” Rose hisses, eyes narrowed.
“No, I—”
“I KNEW IT,” Rose yelps again. “You take this job too seriously.”
“Isn’t that the opposite of how a nepo baby would work?”
“Not if you have a personal investment and need to prove something,” Kurt says from across the room.
“Write your essay, Kurt,” I yell. He rolls his eyes at me (Rose does, too) and starts typing again.
“Girl,” Rose says, “you’re obviously super invested in this job. I know you feel like you need to support your nepo parent—”
“She’s my friend—”
“—which, fair enough, because she oozes anxiety every time she comes to work, but you can’t let capitalism rule your life. Put a little less effort into this job in the future. You don’t need to be expending extra effort to bond with customers.”
Kurt opens his mouth, and I look pointedly at his laptop. He rolls his eyes again.
“Noted,” I say.
“And for the love of god, stop looking like you’re ready to jump into action at any second. You can breathe when a customer isn’t waiting to be served.”
That actually does seem like sound advice, and I nod my head in agreement.
“What are you doing next Friday?” she asks.
“Uh—”
“Don’t tell me,” Rose says, holding up a hand. “If you say you’re not doing anything, it’ll be depressing.”
I say nothing.
“My roommates and I are hosting a party. You’re coming.”
“I don’t know if college house parties are really my scene.
” I haven’t been to a house party in…four years?
Five? My roommates and I hosted one ill-fated party when we all moved in (pre-marriage, pre-babies).
The night ended with roommates two and three throwing up, one in our shared bathroom and one in our kitchen sink, and roommate one (me) and roommate four holding back the hair of the respective sick roommates.
It took the entirety of the next day to return our home to an acceptable state of cleanliness, which was still less clean than it had been pre-party.
I don’t think our carpeting ever fully recovered, and so I vowed to never live in a place with carpeting ever again. Only rugs for this girl.
“Oh, please. You’re not my only old friend. It’ll be fun. Bring a friend!” Her eyes widen mischievously. “Oh my god. Bring a date. Please.”
“I don’t think house parties are the kind of thing you bring dates to.”
She rolls her eyes. “What do you know about house party etiquette?”
Fair enough. “I’ll think about it.”
She grabs my phone and plugs the date into my calendar. “Your calendar is empty. That’s embarrassing. Do you need more friends?”
“I’m working on it,” I say, which is mostly true, but Rose rolls her eyes anyway.
Except working on it isn’t going well, and I haven’t spoken to Harrison in three days since I word-vomited and ran away. I kept hoping he would appear at Jo Jo’s on his way to work today, but no such luck. He’s typically an afternoon customer, and I have the morning shift.
Maybe with time, I’ll be able to swallow my pride and go upstairs to work things out and at least be Acquaintances with Limitations, even if I’ve permanently lost my Friends with Limitations status. But for now, I’ll give him space, and I’ll keep working on Doing Better.