I started it. This was after the first rain when it seemed like the sky would clear up. I said I was going to just walk out the door. I suggested that she come too; we both had bikes. We could ride to the market, get a jasmine vine. Bring it home and put it in the yard under my bedroom window. There is a patch of grass at the end of the gravel lot which would be my parking space but I do not have a car. Andy wants to put a table there and chairs. So we can sit in the shade. Let's do it today! All this I said out loud, the whole plan laid out.
The sky turned grey purple, angry, let loose again. The rain smashed the new construction across the street. The more we talked about it, the more real it became. The lightness of walking away. How our co-workers would be angry, sprout wings of frustration. Or jealousy. Some one asked: what will we do with our money, what we owe the restaurant? I planned on taking something, ten dollars, some of the tip money I had earned and leaving the rest. No explanation or scene. No stealing. Letting go.
Of course, I am one shift away from having the summer off. I already have loans and scholarships and savings to budget out for the next few months. I should be working more but there has been so little time for resting. Or going to the post office. Or cooking dinner.
I didn't walk out. We finished our shifts, counted the money we owed and the money we earned and rode home under a very bright sky.
