“Have you ever worked at a place like this?” Nope. Guess not. “I mean, imagine that in the midst of doing your actual job, you also have to shoulder the knowledge that most of the world hates you. You’re part of the BMV myth. The unfortunate legend. That can’t be easy.” Peyton’s hazel eyes went wide. She had definite empathy for these workers and expressed it passionately.
“I guess you’re right about that. And no, I’ve never worked a government job. My skin is probably not thick enough for the abuse.” She returned her book to her bag, feeling a bit like Bert from Sesame Street, failing to avoid Ernie.
“Do you live near here?”
“Oh.” She pointed vaguely to the front window. “About eight, ten minutes away. North.”
Peyton’s eyes widened and danced. “Me, too. Newly.”
Why were they on to new topics now? This didn’t bode well for her time in the plastic chair of doom.
A middled-aged man arrived in a less than ironed suit, took a number, and sat on the other side of Juliette. He had a book, too. She liked this well-prepared rumpled person. He glanced across Juliette to her talkative blond neighbor, Peyton. “Couldn’t help overhearing. Where are you from?”
Something flickered behind Peyton’s eyes that didn’t match any of her other friendly facial expressions. She seemed to make a decision and sat forward. “Dayton most recently, but I used to live in Landonville a long time ago. I was looking for a new chapter to my story, so here I am.”
“That’s fantastic. Welcome back.” Unfortunately, he was grinning and nodding. They were a group now.
Peyton pressed on. “I also have a family member who lives here who I haven’t seen in a while. I was driving to work one day and decided, yep, time to move. Bonus, this is my chance to start fresh, spend some time reconnecting with him. My brother.” Her smile dimmed slightly, and she stared at the hands she’d folded in her lap. “It feels good. I’m a Landonville resident again. Surreal.”
Juliette had never heard someone so happy to be in mundane, middle-of-the-road Landonville. She was born and raised here, but not many outsiders flocked. “Wait. So you were just driving and up and decided to move. As in pick up your life. Wow.” She couldn’t identify with the impulsivity. She wasn’t that kind of risk taker on average. The interior of her fridge was color coded for a reason.
“Right? I was ready for something new and fucking challenging. And this little city felt like just the perfect spot. It has a small town feel, but also big city perks.” She gestured up the street. “Multiple Target locations to choose from.”
“Three, actually,” the man said. “We’re blessed with chain retail.”
Peyton sobered, her tone sentimental. “Well, I have not been disappointed. The sun shines a lot here, in a variety of ways.” Juliette couldn’t help notice that the second Peyton allowed her sparkle to dim, a heaviness immediately took its place. There had been no in between. Almost as if remembering herself, Peyton blinked right out of it again. “Anyway, things are looking up. I hope.”
The man, who was maybe ten years older than them, beamed. He was thin both in body style and hair growth. Oh, but he liked himself some hazel-eyed Peyton. That much was clear. In fact, Juliette was probably getting in the way. Maybe she should excuse herself and let these two socially ambitious people speak unencumbered.
“That’s the way you do it,” he said. “You follow your gut and look on the bright side.”
“I’m working on finding a balance.” Peyton shrugged. “I learned early that I lead with my heart. That’s always been me.”
Juliette didn’t. In fact, she overthought every decision down to breakfast. She tried not to imagine what leading with your heart must feel like. Or having the ability to naturally chat up strangers. But go, you, Miss Dayton, Ohio.
For the next thirty-seven minutes, she listened to her two seatmates shoot the breeze over the actors they liked, foods they preferred on weekends—except anything raw which was apparently abominable, and how cute toddlers looked in the moments before they cried over something ridiculous. The manner and method in which they flitted from subject to subject amazed her. No one really cared about proper transitions during their highly energized exchange. It was a thing to witness. Was she broken, or were these people just carefree about public interaction?
As for Juliette, she kept her eyes on the number wall as it grudgingly rolled over again. Six away. Five. One person after another scurried in relief to the counter and stated the reason for their presence. Finally, number forty-seven appeared. Hers! And wouldn’t you know it, number forty-eight was immediately called, too, which had Peyton on her feet, excitement flaring all over again.
“Come on, Juliette. We’re both up. Fucking next-door neighbors. Twins.” She even seemed jazzed about the walk to the window. Get this girl a pony and she’d likely vibrate and explode confetti. Except she wouldn’t because she also had a cool girl vibe simmering just beneath. She interlaced the word fuck with her enthusiastic musings. A puzzling contradiction. Peyton juggled them both impressively. Juliette needed those kinds of layers. Alas.
“Twins. That’s us.” But nothing could have been farther from the truth. Juliette was serious minded, a good two inches shorter than Peyton with boring dark brown hair a quarter of the way down her back. She had no swoopy bangs or affection for weekday food. But she’d made it to the end of their time together and could now afford Peyton a great big smile from the safety of her own window. “We made it!”
Exhale.
“Paperwork?” the mildly attentive clerk asked as she chewed what had to be three pieces of peppermint gum as she rubbed her forehead with woe. Juliette handed over her carefully filled out form just as next to her she heard Peyton apologizing for not having what she needed for whatever request had brought her in. Surprisingly, she’d never said.
“I can’t believe I missed that. Yeah. Wow. I’m so sorry.”
Her clerk, a man with dark framed glasses, didn’t seem to mind. “Normally, I’d send you back to fill out the forms first, but you know what?” He glanced behind him. “I’m in a good mood and am gonna let you just do that right here.”
“I don’t have to get back in line?”
He leaned in, his voice quiet. “Nah. But don’t say I didn’t ever do anything nice for ya.”
“Never.” Peyton beamed. “You’re my favorite, Lance. Can I steal that pen?”
That never would have happened to Juliette, who would have been ordered back to the dreary plastic chair forest to complete her homework like a dutiful soldier. Ah, well. Good for Peyton. Being nice paid off, and she’d do well to remember that.