Lovers Nevers Quit

I’m not a violent person, believe me. But right now, standing here, I want nothing more than to grab that 24-inch desktop monitor angled perfectly on the desk, and smash it over the manager’s head. Consequences be damned. Hell, most of my coworkers just might vouch for a lighter sentence for me at the trial.

“Jini! Are you listening?” the manager, Bella Han, says. Well, it’s more like she shouts — she’s generally always quite loud — and I actually wasn’t listening to her so I can’t really hide how badly I flinched just now.

“Y-yes! Yes, I understand,” I lie. I’m not a very good liar, yet I still find myself doing it more often than not.

Manager Han sighs so strongly, I swear I see the leaves on the miniature zebra plant next to the desktop monitor move for a second. “Just go on break. One hour and fifthteen.” She turns her head away and flicks her french manicured hand in a dismissive gesture at me.

Flustered, I do that thing where I awkwardly bow at a twenty-five degree angle instead of all the way at ninety, and then scurry out of the manager’s office. On my way out, I hear another hefty sigh from Manager Han. There’s a good chance that in the next minute or so, she’ll come out of the office and continue her mind-numbing spiel about the workplace procedures to whoever’s in proximity, so I speed up my scurrying so I can get to the cafeteria asap. I’m so focused on getting away that I forget to watch my left and right, and end up bumping head-first into someone.

“Oouff! 아이고!” Manager Yoo cries. “Oh, are you okay, Jini? Did you get hurt?” he asks, as if he’s the one who bumped in to me. I don’t have time to respond before he seizes my head in his fuzzy hands, searching for any damage.

“I’m okay, Desmond. Sorry about that,” I tell him, but I don’t pull my head out of his grip, instead just waiting until he’s satisfied that no injuries were sustained.

“그래.” He finally releases me, his furry cheeks perking upward in a smile. “Don’t be sorry. You’re too tiny to make a dent on me anyways.” He bellows out a chuckle, and I can’t help but join in.

It’s true though; Desmond Yoo isn’t just the burliest guy in the entire workplace, he’s the burliest guy I’ve ever met. But it’s lucky for everyone that’s ever met him, that he’s the gentlest giant despite his bulky-built frame, hardly ever gets angry. It’s even luckier for me that he’s my direct manager, instead of Bella Han. If she were manager of the Host Department, I wouldn’t have even been hired.

“On your break now?” Desmond asks. He pushes up the sleeve of his white dress shirt on his right arm, revealing a watch with a gold face and brown leather strap.

“Yup! Headed to the cafeteria.” Typically the first break time for the Host Department is one hour for regular days where business is booming just enough, thirty minutes for the much busier days like a weekend or holiday, and an hour and fifthteen minutes for slow days. Or if Manager Han just especially dislikes me that day. “Bella told me an hour and fifthteen.” Even though she’s the one who put me on break, Desmond still has the power to alter the decision, and vice versa with the other departments they’re in charge of.

Desmond makes a face while still staring at his watch, and I really can’t tell if it’s in my favour or not because of his woolly mammoth-esque beard concealing his facial expression. It’s hard to tell from afar, but up close face-to-face you can notice that it’s a shade lighter than his jet black mane tied tightly in a ponytail.

“You know what, let’s just make it one hour flat,” he says at last. “It’s the first week of back to school, and those Uni-kids might be storming in sooner than we think for a late lunch.”

Yes!I bite my lip to suppress my grin. Desmond Yoo truly is the best person to get into a harmless head-on collision with.

“Okay!” I manage with the most neutral, not-smug smile I can maintain. I can’t afford longer breaks, even if it is just fifthteen minutes.

Desmond pats me on the shoulder and starts past me, his wide strides a bit faster than usual, and as I’m about to continue down the hall myself, he calls back, “oh Jini! Actually, just a sec!”

I freeze, my heart threatening to climb up to my throat. Is he changing his mind? It’s not like he knows yet why Manager Han called me into her office. He didn’t seem like he knew, anyway. I slowly turn to face Desmond again as the giant jogs back towards me.

“Y-yeah?”

“If you see Weylan, tell him I’ll need him in Honey after his break. Got a new guy coming in for the second half, and I need someone to help train him. Keith called in sick earlier so he’s out of commission for a few days.”

“Oh…Okay.” It’s not at all what I was expecting, but I’m just glad this extension of the conversation isn’t about me. “Yeah I’ll tell him.”

Desmond’s furry smile returns briefly before he spins back around on his heels, jogging yet again down the opposite direction. “고마워 Jini! Enjoy your break!”

I wait for him to disappear behind the velvet curtain at the other end of the hall, just in case there was anything else he wanted to tell me, and when he’s finally gone and continue my way to the cafeteria, adding a little jubilant skip to my step.

As per usual, I’m greeted by the small scale Mellow Lemonade sign that hangs in the center of a bulletin wall when I finally reach the employee cafeteria. Like the cutesy sign suggests, surrounded by loveable little lemon-heads with elated smiles and puffy pink cheeks along with accompanying glasses filled to the brim with a yellow liquid — lemonade. Not only does Mellow Lemonade prepare and sell freshly squeezed lemonade, it’s a whole ass restaurant that offers snacks, desserts, and full meals to go along with it. The food selection is mainly Korean dishes, courtesy of its Korean owners, Desmond Yoo and Bella Han, though that’s hardly a concern for tourists and Torontonians passing through Harbourfront.

I realize that I’m not all that hungry when I reach one of the refrigerated display cases on the other side of the room, but I know if I don’t try to eat something now, that raving hunger will come for me before my next break, which from now isn’t for another three hours.

The display case has several options to pick from that all consist of the day’s leftovers, but you would never know unless you worked here yourself because of how neatly all the items are still contained and wrapped.

I settle for one of the smaller looking sandwiches already cut in half. From the outer looks of it I can see cabbage, ham and cheese, which I wouldn’t say is my favourite combination of foods, but right now is more than good enough for me and my low appetite. From the second display case supplied with mini reusable cups sealed with plastic wrap, all filled with lemonade of course, there are six color-coded rows —two pink for sweet, two blue for a mix of sweet and sour, and two green for the brave souls that actually prefer to down an utterly sour cup of lemonade.

After grabbing a pink cup from the top row, I make way for a corner spot at one of the two mobile lunch tables in the room. There’s no one else in here — I tend to be the first out of every department to go one break — which means it’s going to be a bit lonely for the first fifteen to thirty minutes of the hour I have to kill.

Right when I plant myself on the bench, a lock of my frizzy hair falls in my line of vision, making me blink furiously in protection mode. The amount of times strands of my stupid hair have gotten stuck in my eyes and left me whimpering and squirming in immense pain should be studied by doctors all across the world.

“지니야!”

My upper half recoils, causing me to suddenly twist around towards the source of that irritating high pitch and nearly knock over my cup of lemonade with my elbow. I glare at the towering, dusty-blonde headed server strolling through the cafeteria and straight towards the display cases. He leans his forearm over the top, bent at a proper ninety degree angle like one of the street lamp posts outside, and scratches at the faint stubble on his chin. Weylan Mott is tied with Desmond for the tallest person in Mellow Lemonade, though Desmond still reigns superior as the giant.

“First again, huh Jini?” The high pitch from before has instantly become a trench deep baritone voice. Weylan feigns a look of exhaustion as he perches across from me at the table. A round plastic container and green cup plop down right beside my meal, and my hands instinctively reach forward midway to prevent any spillage. “You truly are Bella’s favourite.”

Beneath the table, I jab him in the shin with the low heel of my pumps. Instead of wincing like I want him to, he chuckles, the action vibrating the table a little.

“First the best, second the worst, as they say.” I reach inside the pocket of my pleated skirt and pull out a dull yellow scrunchie, then proceed to collect my nappy strands into a bunch behind my head. I don’t like tying my hair at all, but it’s the only way I can eat in peace.

My eyes stay glued to my sandwich on the table, but I can feel Weylan’s eyes on me while I tie my hair. He does that a lot, staring at people, for all the nine months that I’ve been here at Mellow Lemonade, but I along with everyone else apparently, have never had the heart to make him aware of it. I’ve grown used to it anyway while working here, and it’s just easier to pretend that I don’t notice that he’s doing it.

“Oh, is that what they’re saying?” Weylan mocks. I hear him peel off the plastic wrap and take a long sip from his sour lemonade. I’m not the one drinking it, but I can’t help but cringe. Weylan’s sense of taste has always perplexed me.

With my hair all secured, I get to work on unwrapping my sandwich. “Desmond said go to Honey room after your break.”

“What? Why?”

“The new server is gonna start today, I guess. Desmond needs you to train him.”

“Ah, seriously?” Weylan protests. The smell of salmon and cream cheese overtakes the air. I peek up to see him messily stabbing at his poke bowl, presumably mixing it, but sometimes Weylan just plays with his food. “What about Keith, though?”

“Heard he called in sick, not gonna be working for a while,” I say with a hand hovering in front of my mouth, hiding it while I chew.

“That little shit,” Weylan mutters through a full mouth. Keith was in fact, the oldest of the servers currently employed at Mellow Lemonade, and had a habit of ‘falling ill’ every now and then, or asking to go home early if it wasn’t that busy. “What are the chances I get food poisoning from this bowl and have to go home?”

I look up to meet Weylan’s striking green eyes, always reminding me of how they match the sour lemonade cups.

It’s hard to deny that I don’t envy the position Weylan’s in now; having to train someone from scratch while also in the middle of working yourself. The stress it must bring.

“Well,” I begin, sipping my sweet ade, “normally I’d say they’re already pretty high since you have the audacity to consume that horrid combination of salmon and cream cheese, but now I think you’re gonna step it up and cross your seafoods. Maybe some eel and squid?”

Weylan flares his nostrils, stabbing considerably less harder at the poke bowl as a grin stretches across his face. “I like the way you think.”

Then a sonorous burp pops out of him, and I’m so disgusted that I literally drop my sandwich. Luckily it at least landed on a napkin.

“Ow,” Weylan fake cries as I kick his shin again, his grin growing even bigger. “Wish me luck today, kay Jini?”