The Different Tie

Working in retail is hard. Long hours and being underpaid is just the start. I make it through every day with the smell of black coffee and men’s deodorant. I've kept it under control for six months now, as it is heightening at a point where I feel as if he is letting me in his brass gates of his dysfunctional mind. I hold back. I am into my boss. It wouldn't be so complicated if there wasn't a huge challenge. He is twenty-two years older than me.

It started with just a crush on the older guy I worked with. Gradually, through time, he slowly gave me intimate details about himself.

1. His childhood; his parents were huge in music. They had friends for actors, you could say. He would always tell me how, when he was little, his parents' friends would throw on small plays in his shady backyard.

2. The origin of his middle name; S. That's all I know. It starts with the letter "S." When his mother decided to hand him down the mystical "S" name, it tore the relationship he never had from his grandmother for five years.

3. Any action he views as important triggers a musical stamina of songs in his head; a human jukebox.

4. The last girlfriend he had was about for a year, and she turned to drugs.

5. His family throws themed parties and has chili cook offs. Long story short, I learned things about him that I don't think he would just share with any of his employees, that, in fact, made me feel like I was not just his employee. I know there is some damage, but I’m not trying to repair it. I want to know more and embrace it. Nobody is perfect. His imperfections make me want him even more. He is human.

I catch myself laying in bed at night thinking of his large hands and the thin layer of dark brown hair on his knuckles grazing over my body; his bright green eyes looking into my soul, soon starting a lust so strong you couldn't tear me away; the feeling of his stubble from his neck and jaw against my lips. The images were realistic, but not reality. It became an obsession.

When you're infatuated with someone, are you supposed to force yourself to do things they like? I changed my outlook on life of planning to "carpe diem" (it means to "seize the day"). He brought out some major qualities in me that I thought I would never reach—respect, boundaries, and the skill of a fake smile. He has no one to come home to; just a bottle of whiskey and a lifeless condo. He covers up his loneliness with gambling, family, work, buying pinball machines, and Amazon Prime; that is all behind his "smile." I want to be the woman he comes home to. Is it so bad for me to want him to let me in? I’m an oven book. I want him to let me into his whole library. I want to be the cause for the future of his effortless smile.

Dysfunctional is a word to call it. I’ve been surrounded by it my whole life, but in his presence, it evaporates like a dewey morning with sunshine. Looking into his green abyss clears my mind. My mood can switch like day and night.

Every day I come, park fifteen feet away, work two feet away, yet I feel like I’m not so far away. When I see him, my “smile” is genuine.

I imagine all these “what if’s” but I’ve learned that, with him, unless I have a set playlist in his head, I’m not in. I want to be all in.