If the stack of papers on Rosalina Grayson’s desk got any higher, her apartment would need a sunroof. Her grading assignments would be even more repetitive since her students insisted on using the “raindrops on the window” device every…single…time. In her mind, the definition of insanity wasn’t doing the same thing and expecting different results. It was grading the same papers and expecting a reprieve. “I need a bottle of beer. I need one now.”
She strolled down the street to El Segundo Convenience not giving two shits or a flying fuck if her fleece pants and wool sweater gave off an air of laziness. She washed her long brown hair that morning, so that was a plus. Hopefully, the smell of deodorant would cancel out the booze odor that was about to float from her mouth like an acid rain cloud. Being single and having no roommates would have made masking the beer stench obsolete, but still…
She adjusted her glasses and trudged through the entrance of the convenience store, bell clinging, but nobody calling out to welcome her. Then again, being welcome wasn’t a feeling she was used to among students she gave a shitty grade to. The more she dwelled on the inevitable, the more appealing that bottle of Olde English was. In fact, it seemed to have a heavenly golden glow the closer Rosalina got to it. When she untwisted the cap and took a sip, it was like liquid heaven soothing her dry throat.
“You can’t drink beer in the store,” said the clerk behind the counter.
“Sorry about that. How much do I owe you?” Rosalina approached the counter and her eyes lit up just a little bit when she saw who was jockeying the register. “Raf? Rafael Ortiz? Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Miss Grayson.” Underneath his puffy black hair was a facial expression that reeked of tiredness and disappointment. His ratty gray T-shirt and faded blue jeans showed that he gave even less of a shit about this job than he did before. “That’ll be three dollars for the beer.”
Rosalina dug a five dollar bill out of her pocket and paid for the beer, continuing to drink it now that it was accounted for. “How’ve you been? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Congratulations on getting that degree.”
“Eh...” Rafael crossed his arms and rubbed his temples like he was trying to send a subtle message wanting to be left alone.
“So…what are you writing these days?”
“Nothing.”
Rosalina chuckled. “No, seriously, come on, what are you really writing these days? You’re an English major. You’ve got to be writing something.”
Rafael’s tone was slightly amplified when he placed his hands on the counter in frustration. “That’s what I said, I’m not writing anything. At all.”
Rosalina gave an awkward frown. “Oh…I see…So let me see if I’ve got this straight: you spent all that money getting an English degree and you don’t write anymore? Raf, you had potential.”
“I had all the potential in the world, but all you ever gave me was a fucking C+.” He went back to folding his arms and sulking.
“Wow. Do you talk to all women like that or just the ones who give you legitimate criticism? See, that’s your problem, Raf, and that’s what a lot of students these days don’t get: whenever a teacher gives you a mediocre grade, it’s never personal.” Rafael gave her an incredulous look. “Okay, maybe not with all teachers, but for my class, it was never about getting personal. Just because I gave you a grade you didn’t like, doesn’t mean I didn’t think you had potential.”
“Potential doesn’t pay for groceries, Miss Grayson, much less for a bottle of Olde English.”
“That’s true. And that’s why you have to keep working on your craft, so that you don’t get mediocre ratings anymore. The more you do something, the better you’ll get at it. If nothing else, you’ve got a degree that you can wave in people’s faces whenever they give you a hard time.”
Rafael slammed his palms on the counter, leaving a tiny scratch in the glass above the lotto tickets. “A degree? A degree? You mean the world’s most expensive piece of paper?”
“Okay, I’ll admit that college is way too expensive for my liking. I’d love nothing more than to have progressive politicians do something about this, but…”
“It wasn’t just you, Miss Grayson.”
“…Pardon me?” She took another sip of beer hoping he wasn’t going to say what she thought he was going to say.
“You weren’t the only one who thought of me like that. You want to know what my GPA was when I graduated from college?” Rafael leaned in closer. “Two…point…five…”
“…Ouch…yeah, that stings…”
“It does sting. And I happen to be allergic to venomous stings.”
In the middle of sipping her beer, Rosalina gave an approving, “Mmm!” Once she had a clear mouth, she pointed at Rafael and said, “See that? That’s a good line. That shows you have potential. Personally, I would have taken out the word venomous, but other than that, you could use that line in a story someday. Or a poem, either way.”
“Miss Grayson…listen to me…” Rafael’s voice lowered to an intense hush. “I don’t have potential. I never did. That’s why I work here now: because it’s the only job that will let me make at least a little bit of a dent in my student loan debt. Nobody would pay a penny for the words I’ve written. In fact, one teacher said I should be the one paying him.”
“Okay, that’s a little overboard, I agree, but…”
“Miss Grayson…I’m going to die behind this counter. That’s not a suicide threat. That’s not a prediction. That’s a prophecy. This is the only job I’ll ever be good at…what? Something wrong?”
Rosalina sighed in disappointment. “You forgot to give me my change for the beer.”
Rafael opened the register and gave her two bucks. “I guess that doesn’t make me a very good clerk, does it. Almost worthy of a C+, right?”
She tucked her head and almost missed her pocket when she put away the change. “Actually, I was thinking more like a D-, but they’re practically the same thing…at least in your mind, anyways. I’m sorry that my class was a waste of time for you. Have a nice life, Rafael. If you ever want to change your mind…I’m in the directory…maybe…I don’t know…” She sighed in defeat. “Goodbye, Raf…I’m sorry you don’t believe in yourself…”
“It was bound to happen one way or another.”
“I guess so.” Rosalina trudged out of the store sipping her beer the entire way. The more she thought about that conversation, the bigger her swigs became. She didn’t even care if she was stopped by a cop for public intoxication. Maybe she belonged in prison for the crime of denying an entire generation their dreams. She crossed the street, not caring about the honking car almost hitting her. She was lost in her own world as she continued sipping her beer.
At first she thought nothing of the screaming going on in the convenience store. Something about opening the “goddamn register”? Something about not being a “hero”? None of those things mattered nearly as much as the sound of gunfire, which caused Rosalina to drop her beer bottle on the ground and retreat for cover behind a garbage can. She held her knees to her chest and shivered while the robbers fired even more bullets and swore like sailors. The crash of the register echoed in her ears and made her tuck her head further into her knees. Her only saving grace was the sound of gangsters laughing and driving away with their stolen loot.
Rafael was right. He was going to die behind that counter and he just did. He never did have potential because corpses didn’t pen the next great American classic. Rosalina wanted to think that a necromancer in somebody’s story would bring Rafael back to life and make his memory immortal again…but immortality was never meant for mediocre students. All that promise…gone. His soul was crushed by his 2.5 GPA and his body was crushed by a hailstorm of bullets.
All Rosalina had to say about this was…”I need another beer…”
She could have just as easily went back into the store to grab a freebie, but she didn’t want to see Rafael’s body mangled by bullets. She couldn’t even hear him breathe. All those grating noises…and then there was just silence. No spitting up blood. No shallow breaths. He was gone. All gone. But in reality, it was the college, Rosalina included, who pulled the trigger, not the robbers.
“I definitely need another beer…”
