Sun Stories: Trish – Critical Mass

“Today was supposed to be her last day at the salon and no one knows where she is.”

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen my love, Cherie. But we’re accustomed to that with what our schedules are. We appreciate what little time we can spend together. We make every minute count.

Cherie planned to come down on Saturday around 3pm and stay until 8:30am Sunday morning. I thought this was good, because I could at least have dinner with her or take her out somewhere, before we went back to the bat cave and tore each other to pieces.

I wake up Saturday morning. I stayed up late the night before because I knew it was my first day off in a while and I wanted to sleep in. I could take myself out to a nice breakfast, put some fresh sheets on the bed, prepare my bedroom for the inevitable and run some errands before Cherie arrived at 3pm.

I’m lying in bed and I look at my phone. Achilles had called. Achilles also texted me.

“Do you know if Trish went to work?”

(Okay, Trish is my neighbor who lives in the apartment below me. I got her the job at the salon, but how in the hell am I supposed to know if she went to work today?)

“I’m assuming she did.”

I text Trish. “Hey can you see if I left my charger there? It would be plugged in under the counter.”

(That was just a ruse to see if she was there. I didn’t want her to think I was checking up on her.)

Achilles: “No answer at the salon.”

Me: “Fuck.”

“I’ll head over there now. But I’ll need about 30 minutes.”

I jump out of bed and into the shower. I’m dressed and out the door 30 minutes later. I speed walk over to the salon and when I get there I see four people sitting on the steps and the salon is locked and dark. One of them is the new girl I’ve been training, Jill.

I tell everybody I’m sorry for the today’s delay, but I can get them all in to tan right now. Jill is obviously upset. She had just come in to tan when she saw the place was locked. It’s nearly 1pm now. We’ve lost 2 hours worth of business, and there’s been no word from Trish.

“I was so worried when I texted you and didn’t hear anything.” Jill said.

“I wouldn’t have heard my phone, Jill. I was rushing to get over here to see what happened.”

I get everybody, including Jill, into their respective rooms to tan. I’ve got everything under control. But still no word from Trish. I roll with the notion of what’s happened around in my mind. I no longer consider Trish a friend. I tried that but I can’t take the crazy, so I’ve stopped hanging out with her. But she’s a sweet person and she comes up to the apartment all of the time and hangs out with my daughter, Lorelei. So I decide that whatever circumstances have caused Trish to miss work I’m not going to be angry, because I don’t want it to be weird when she comes over to see my daughter, or worse I don’t want her to feel bad that she can’t come up to the apartment anymore.

Trish has been expressing for the last two months that she’s tired of working in customer service. She’s a 27-year-old graphic artist. I think her own mind is what’s been holding her back from getting and keeping a real job in her field of endeavor. Which is sad. Here you have all of this talent and it’s being squandered on a daily basis. I can actually smell her talent being sledgehammered by the familiar stench of marijuana smoke that I experience everyday as it wafts up through the floor into my apartment. Morning and at night. (So she’s using to simply get through each day instead of for fun. If you want to use to create that’s great, but if you use to just leave the house and deal with life, that’s a problem.

I like to drink. I love alcohol. But I do it at the end of the day, when all the work is done. Trish has to smoke weed just to leave the house everyday. That coupled with the oceans of coffee she drinks on a daily basis to cope with the dope. She really should be on some sort of cocktail of medication and in therapy at this point. It’s very clear to me.

Something that should be enjoyed and used as a treat has been a coping mechanism for her. It’s the same for the person that needs to take a drink in the morning to “take the edge” off the day. They’re called alcoholics.

Up till now I haven’t cared about her burning up her talent and watching it go up in a puff of smoke at the end of a joint. But I brought her into the salon.  Now after a year she’s fucking up. That, or returning to her true self. When we hired her last year, the busy season was over. The job was easy then. But now we are being overwhelmed by the clients and business In general. You have to run the salon. You can’t let it run you. We’ve gotten a bad Yelp review recently because of her. Clients have complained of late openings and a bad attitude around closing. Trish shouldn’t work with the general public. She can’t handle the fast paced environment of a busy salon.

Achilles would send me in to help few nights lately. Instead of working like a well oiled unit like Summer and I did, I do all the running and Trish takes her foot off the gas and takes it easy. That’s not how it works.

So that’s why we’ve brought in Jill. She has previous salon experience, and I could see from day one that she would probably work out. Poor Trish just doesn’t have the temperament to work with people.

So the situation we find ourselves in today was supposed to be her last day and no one knows where she is.

Jill comes out from tanning and asks if she can do anything to help and says if I have plans she can work today, because she has nothing going on. I tell her I’m good, and hand her a shopping list for her to go to Wawa and get me some food because I’m going to be here until 6pm.

Oh shit! Cherie is coming at 3pm! I text her and tell her we’ve had a crisis at the salon and I have to work until 6pm. Of course as wonderful and flexible as Cherie is, she is fine with it and tells me she’ll come down at 7pm. I apologize and thank her for being understanding. So Trish’s whatever has fucked up the plans of some innocent people, so she better have a good excuse for bailing on work  on her final day and not even telling anyone what was going on.

Cherie is a mother, and has to make babysitting arrangements when she comes into the city to see me. I feel bad if that’s causing my girlfriend stress and money because of someone else’s fuck up.

Suddenly Trish comes blazing through the door to the salon.

“I’m so sorry…”

She’s visibly upset on the verge of tears.

“What happened?”

“I was arrested last night.

To Be Continued…

 

 

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Philadelphia, PA, USA

Author: phicklephilly

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2 thoughts on “Sun Stories: Trish – Critical Mass”

  1. Despite our age difference, I was titillated by the stock photo of “Trish” with her tongue out, in a playful pose. I love cute women, with their tongues invitingly stuck out. Then I read your account. Keep your tongue in, baby, until you get the rest of your head straight.

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