Chapter 2
chapter two
jude
It happened again. Misty Fields, that menace from fundraising, picked through my lunch. This morning I’d made a specific pattern with the blueberries on top of my salad and counted them, so I could tell if my food had been tampered with.
I’d checked it before I stuffed it in the fridge and even labeled it with my name and the date.
Now half of the blueberries were gone and the label looked like someone peeled it off and then tried to smooth it over.
I sighed as I put the lid back on the container before shoving it back in the fridge.
This what was my life had come to, psychological warfare in the break room.
I hurried back to my office and slumped in my chair located behind the circulation area of the Tompkins Public Library.
I was the Youth Services Director here and shared an office with my coworker Carmen, who shot me some serious side-eye as soon as I walked in, letting me know she was aware of exactly what was going on.
I fiddled with the mouse on my desk as the sound of an DM hitting my Slack channel pinged and a message from Carmen popped up.
BiblioCarmen: Did that bitch eat your lunch again?
Jude_Fuller: 100% definite yes. Half of the blueberries were gone. I even looked to see if they had sunk down to the bottom, but no. Someone picked through it and possibly tampered with the label. Who eats salad without dressing, Carmen? She’s sick.
BiblioCarmen: Her shit’s got to be pathological.
Who DOES that? And it’s just your food she fucks with, because she knows you’re meticulous with your meals.
You don’t see her messing with the frank and beans Bill brings every single day.
*shudders* It’s so messed up. You should call her on it, Jude.
Riiight. That was not going to happen.
I was not the most confrontational person in the world, but I had a hard time keeping my mouth shut around bullies.
Misty Fields was a bully, and she seemed to have a gift of pushing my buttons, except I could not let her get to me right now.
Misty was the grant manager for the library and knew she had me by the balls for the foreseeable future.
I was a week away from taking another shot at getting my dream project approved by the board and she could totally mess with my plans.
I looked over my monitor at Carmen and rolled my eyes at her before starting to type a response.
Jude_Fuller: You know I can’t piss her off right now.
She’s got half the board eating out of her hand, and the rest are clueless.
If she says it’s not viable for this year’s fundraising efforts, I’m screwed and will need to sit out for another year.
They’re not exactly open to new projects with all the cuts from the state.
I heard her sigh from across the room.
BiblioCarmen: I know. I KNOW. She’s just so annoying and evil. I mean someone touching your food is practically psychological torture for you.
Jude_Fuller: She IS evil, I agree, but we have to bide our time.
We need the mobile library project operating next school year.
The need is there, most of the kids in the rural parts of the county never come out here, and the stuff that’s available in the schools is not enough.
Not to mention schools banning queer books left and right!
BiblioCarmen: I am 100% with you, and you’re right, we just have to wait until we have our book truck, and then we can run her ass over with it.
I couldn’t help it; I cracked up and made the “stop it” sign with my hands. She smiled and went back to typing.
BiblioCarmen: Let’s blow this place off and take our lunch out.
Did you see the new food truck parked at the gas station?
It’s covered with practically every flag in the Caribbean, which makes me so excited I could cry.
Unless it’s some poser from Brooklyn, which would be tragic.
I did see a guy by the truck when I was walking in this morning, and he is fiiiiine.
Had them Latinx vibes, so we’ll get lunch and a view.
I’d been distracted listening to a podcast when I was walking into work, and must have missed the truck, but I perked up at the mention of Caribbean food. I wondered if it was the same one the sexy weirdo from the gas station had been driving.
Did his have flags on it? I couldn’t remember; I was too distracted by the gorgeous stranger laughing at me. That interaction had been bizarre, even for Ithaca. One does not expect someone so hot to all of a sudden act like a lunatic.
Not that it mattered if it was the same guy. A) he was probably straight, and B) lusting after men I most likely couldn’t have was not on my to-do list. However, for Carmen, hard-staring at hot guys was like a competitive sport. If anything, she’d at least do or say something hilarious.
Carmen waggled her eyebrows at me, and I rolled my eyes in response, then gave her a thumbs-up. I opened the file with my proposal for the board and got to it. I could at least channel the rage over my desecrated salad by making some progress.
“All I’m saying is someone at some point needs to call Misty on her bullshit,” Carmen complained as we pushed out of the library and onto the sunny street.
“Since she lost all that weight people treat her like she’s some sort of mystic. If you ask me she’s the same old bitch she was before, except now she’s fucking insufferable.”
“This is true,” I concurred as we waited to cross the street.
Carmen huffed before launching into another Misty rant.
“She goes out of her way to shame people about what they eat and acts all superior about her workouts as if anyone who isn’t running eighteen miles a day like she does is a lazy slug.
” The look of disgust on her face would have been hilarious, except she was one hundred percent right.
Misty was awful.
“Did you see that poor intern walking out of her office just now? I think she made her cry because she brought a donut into work. Ugh, she makes me so mad.”
“Well, it won’t be me calling her on any of it. At least not while I’m trying to get this project approved,” I reminded her as we got closer to the gas station where Carmen spotted the food truck earlier.
Carmen’s answer was another exasperated sigh, but I could tell she was already off of Misty and on to figuring out what to eat.
From where we stood I could see the front of the truck with the awning up, looking ready for business.
It was definitely the same one from the gas station, I remembered the black logo with a red background.
“This is the truck from yesterday,” I said to Carmen, who was busy inspecting the scene.
I noticed a chalkboard hanging to the left side of the window, with what looked like a short menu.
There was a respectable amount of people waiting to order already, a good sign for a brand-new place.
We quickly walked over and took our place at the end of the line.
“So, what are we getting?” I asked Carmen as she stretched her neck to look at the menu.
“Let me check what they have. It’s so sad that this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all spring.”
She started reading and after a few seconds clapped her hands and did a little happy dance. She was wearing a bright yellow shirt dress, which looked amazing contrasted against her dark brown skin. Her mahogany curls streaked with blonde highlights bounced on her shoulders as she moved.
“Oh my god, please let this be legit! There’s Dominican food on the menu, Jude!
” She grabbed me by the shoulders with a big smile.
“Do you know what having real Caribbean food in this frozen tundra would mean for me? Oh man, I wonder if the owner is Dominican. He kind of looked Dominican,” she said, tilting her head to the side.
I laughed at her because Carmen was always on the hunt to spot a fellow Dominican, and yet never really made an effort to befriend any of the ones who lived in town.
She said it was like having a fire extinguisher, it’s reassuring to know it’s there, but you don’t need to carry one around all the time.
“It does sound promising. I wonder if they’ll have more options in the future. I think I’m going to try the Lupe. I love Cuban black beans. Should we get the tostones? Yumm. We can share,” I said, getting excited for the food. “The smells coming from the truck really are incredible.”
Carmen bobbed her head giddily next to me as we moved up the line.
“Yes, yes, yes. Imma get the Mayimbe. They have a DOMINICAN burrito, Jude.” She pointed toward the menu again and gave the guy in front of us, who was now openly eavesdropping on our conversation, a thumbs-up.
“I already fucking love this guy for naming the burritos after badass Latinx singers. If the mastermind behind this is the hot guy I saw this morning, it is going to be a very good summer for us, Jude!” She broke into another happy dance.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to declare this the ‘best summer ever’ just yet, but if the food’s good and they’re here for a while, it will be a nice addition to our lunch repertoire.” Carmen didn’t respond and was now trying to get a photo of the menu with her phone.
I left her to it and looked over at the guy taking the orders in the window. Although he was good-looking and possibly Latinx, he was not the guy from the gas station.
I pointed in the direction of the window, and gently nudged Carmen to get her attention.
“Is that the guy you were talking about? It’s not the same one I saw yesterday.”
The man had to be in his thirties and was very handsome. His face looked like it was carved from ebony, and he was so big I was surprised he could fit in that truck. He had long locs tied up into a knot on top of his head and he was wearing a white t-shirt that said, More Amor, Por Favor.
Very attractive, but not dead sexy like the guy from yesterday.
Carmen finally looked up from her phone. I assumed she was reporting our new food discovery to her husband.