1 I don't know

"Get a job, Sander!" They say.

"Go to school, Sander!" I've heard.

"Be a responsible member of society, Sander!" Oh, isn't that cute.

At that point, I didn't care about how others felt, not even my mom. I blew everything off. I didn't know what to do. My mother had given up on me. Her warm and hopeful demeanor and smile that she once dawned changed into a hopeless and given up one.

She wasn't the same. I wasn't the same. Two strangers under a common roof. After school ended, I no longer had any goals.

School had clear goals. Pass. And if you don't pass, try again by repeating a class or year or whatever. And I passed. Mission accomplished, right?

Other students and classmates chattered away about their plans. Some wanted to go to college and become doctors, architects, business owners. And others were going to trade school for a year or two.

Not me. No sir. I'm just built different. I never was able to make up my mind. My head is a rolodex full of things, including possible options for me. But what good are options if you can't pick one?

Nothing interested me. Nothing caught my eye. Not a job. Not a career. Definitely not college or some other kind of school.

I spent most of my first few days out of highschool meandering about my home. Looking for sweets in my kitchen cabinets and drawers. I'd play video games and waste hours and hours of precious time on digital things that have no bearing on my life.

The internet served as my muse.

The kind of muse that inspired me to be even less productive.

My dinners with mom felt sad and gloomy. She tried to encourage me to do something, but I just didn't know what to do.

We were too broke for me to go on a soul search around the country on my own. And I was too lazy to even feel like stepping foot outside of town.

Our conversations were lonely and empty in resolve, leaving a lingering feeling of future worry in my heart.

A few weeks after, my mother and I ate supper together around the kitchen table. She stared down at her food as I struggled to not look at her. I was bored of tv and games. Seeing her tough it out to speak to me was more entertainment than I had all week.

She poked at her food with her fork until dropping it. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a poster and handed it to me, sliding it across the table.

I reached over and scanned it as I held it.

"Help wanted: Dixies is seeking a dishwasher for weekends! Immediate hiring! No experience required."

Her stare finally, after minutes of looking down, focused on me. "It's not much." she said. Her words crept out of her mouth, as if it were painful. "But it is something."

I faked and forced my smile. It hurt as much as seeing my mother try to seem interested in me. "I'll check it out."

I stuck the flyer in my back pocket and finished the rest of our supper. I grabbed all the dirty plates and threw them into the dish washing machine.

The machine was old and rattled the cabinets, causing the hanging door knobs from the drawers to rattle and shake, clinking around.

The sound bled through the wall as I lied on my bed with a book I was trying to read rested on my face.

I turned around and the book fell onto the floor. I picked it back up again.

'Poems for thought and pensive mournfulness'

I don't know why I liked poems, but I did. They seemed very close to home, almost like they were directed to me personally.

I opened it to page 32. Robert Frost's poem 'Stopping by woods on a snowy evening' stared at me throught the worn-out and golden -aged pages of the book.

'And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.'

And I slept.

The next day I got up early. Well, early for me at least. 10 am. I walked over to the bus station and rode it to the city downtown square.

The address was 1350 Midtown Road.

Dixies was a classic american-style restaurant. It had flags on the walls, statues on high shelves, posters with famous athletes and signed pictures of actors hanging by every stall and booth.

In the center was the bar that was accessible by all corners. I went over to the bartender who doubled as the first person in contact of the restaurant. He was a scruffy looking man, maybe late thirties or early fourties.

He wore an unbuttoned dress shirt over a plain black t shirt with jeans and a utility belt around his waist. I couldn't tell if it was their to support his pants or for general use, but it was worn confidently by the man, regardless of it's bleach stained and paint encrusted appearance.

"Um, excuse me." I said as politely as I could. I wasn't going to get on his bad side from day one. "I'm here for an interview, I brought my resume and I-".

"I'll call 'er out for ya. Just wait over there." He interrupted, pointing to the red metal bench made for take out orders. His voice was higher than I had expected.

I waited patiently, with both legs in front of me and seated as professionally as I could be. Yeah, I'm sure they require the most professional and sensible teen fresh out of highschool to be their dish-washer. Sounds about right.

After a few minutes a young woman dressed in a bright yellow skirt with a sunflower pin on her chest greeted me. Her attire didn't fit the atmosphere. She stuck out like an ice cube in Phoenix.

"Nice to meet you!" she said cheerfully. "My name is Stephanie, but everyone calls me Stevie."

Stevie is usually a boy's name but I went with it. "Likewise, my name is Sander. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She smirked at the sound of my name, almost as if it were instinct. "I see, Sander. That's quite a unique name."

I smirked back. "A unique name suits a unique person." I joked. "I wouldn't be me if my name was something basic like Jonathan or Michael."

She slapped her thigh in laughter and covered her mouth with her hand. "Well, I guess you're right!"

She sat down next to me and eyed my resume over quickly. I wondered if she was in a rush or just not interested in endulging me.

A few seconds in she set the resume on an empty chair, face down, and just talked to me.

"So." she went on. "What do you like to do?"

I scratched the back of my head in thought. I wanted to give a professional answer that made me sound employable. "Well, ma'am-"

"Drop the 'ma'am' stuff, just call me Stevie."

"Well, Stevie, I am a hard worker who will accomplish his goal to the best of my ability. I promise to always be on time and always fully do my job."

"No, no, no. I want to know about this!" She shrugged my answer off and lightly clenched her hand into a ball, then tapped onto her chest where her heart would be. "I want to know what's in here. What are your interests? Surely a kid like you, fresh outta highschool, has some hobbies or plans."

I didn't have any interests. I really, truly didn't. "To be honest with you". I cleared my throat. "I don't really have any. Ever since highschool I've been as lost as a blind man looking for his girlfriend. I have no goals. No plans. Nothing. I... I'm still looking for that something."

She gave me a hard pat on the back. It stung a little bit, but nothing I couldn't handle. "Well, I like you. Maybe we can make something out of you here." she said.

I didn't want to be like the abandoned puppy you find on the street when you're with your children. Reluctantly taking it in because the kid wants a pet. I didn't want to be a charity case. But a job is a job and money is money.

She stood up from the chair and grabbed my resume. She placed it into a folder she had with her. "One last thing." She said before leaving. "Do you know how to wash dishes?"

I got the job.

I gathered my composure and reflected on what had just happened. It wasn't a well paying job, just ten an hour. But it was only on the weekends and only during the evenings.

The bartender gave me a big thumbs up on my way out. He yelled out "See ya' real soon!" as I went through the front door. He was nicer than he looked.

I had a few days before I started working, I didn't know what I was going to do until then. Probably the usual, nothing important.

It was 11 a.m., still early. But the earliest bus to arrive around my area was across the bridge. So I had to walk a few blocks to get my ride home.

I reached the street across from the bridge and waited for the street light to change for me to cross. As I stood in front of the road I saw someone on the bridge. They weren't walking or even moving.

They just stood there, looking out at the flowing river below. The sun ablaze, birds chirping their songs. Wind blew a humid and uncomfortable air. I walked over to the curious unmoving person.

The closer I got, the clearer my view was. It was a young woman, maybe in her twenties. She wore a floral print shirt and purple palazzo pants that hovered above her ankles and shook with the passing wind.

She didn't move, not even an inch. Her gaze was fixated on the river before her. It was a quiet area. The water flowed slowly, as if it adhered to no ones orders, not even gods.

I don't know why, but I couldn't help but look at her. I felt like a stalker, stalking his prey. But it wasn't like that. I just was intrigued by her.

Out of nowhere a strong gush of wind blew and swept away the flyer I had in my back pocket. It slapped the girl on her leg and stuck to her like a magnet. This caught her attention. She reached down, grabbed the paper, and noticed me looking at her.

I had forgotten all about that silly flyer and it's purpose. Now she was well aware of it.

"Help wanted. Immediate hirings." she read aloud. She paced over to me. Her heels hit the floor, step after step. "Now tell me, is this something you really want?"