Painting our Life - 6 Colors

   "Tim McDan arrested after surviving a horrible concussion."

   I reread the headline on the front page of the Guelph Mercury. Dash peeks from over my shoulder. She sighs relief. I take a sip of my coffee. Dash smiles. It's been a week since the incident at the movie theatre, and after a week of worrying, the papers reassure her she had not killed anyone. Even though nobody would know it was her, killing another person is a heavy burden to carry on your shoulders.

   Monday, time for work. I'm still searching for a new job. Everybody at Zellars for the past week have tried their best to help. The manager was proud of me for starting to take life seriously, and people all agree that I'm a happier person now. I skim trough the help wanted section of the paper and finish off my toast. I take a quick look at the clock. 8:01. Work doesn't start for another hour. Normally I would set off at 8:30 since walking takes some time, but I bought a bike from a garage sale a few days ago and riding to work only takes a few minutes. I flick on the TV.

   "Oooh are you gonna watch some Pokemon?" Dash asks from the dining table. She loves cartoons. (I'm guessing it's because they didn't have them from where she came from.) Spongebob, FairlyOdd Parents, Pokemon, Jimmy Neutron, you name it. She's even taken an interest in My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, though I'm not sure why, each episode is based on her or one of her friends' lives in Equestria. If you told me that cartoon characters exist in another universe a few weeks ago, I'd recommend you to some therapy, but now, I'd ponder about it for a while. I mean, if Dash exists, why wouldn't there be more of her kind? A My Little Pony toy advertisement plays. Dash's ears perk up and she turns her head to the screen.

   "Hey! I do not look like that!" She points at the baby Rainbow Dash doll. I chuckle, and then get ready for work.

   It's really simple, Dash must stay in the house at all times while I am gone. If someone rings the doorbell, she ignores it, if someone phones, she ignores it. There's always television to keep her entertained, in fact, I think she can go weeks watching cartoons without stopping. There's bottled water in the closet, and boxed lunches in the fridge that don't require cooking before eating.

   People think I'm crazy for doing this, but I bike in the snow. Althought there are safety reasons to be concerned about, I can't really complain because it's much faster. I ride down the hill. Just below, is the busiest part of town. Stone Road Mall, Zellars, Future Shop, a crap load of restuarants as well. I lock my bike beside Zellars, and walk in. Entering the employee lounge, I throw my coat onto a couch and grab my red uniform. A name tag that is embedded with letters spelling Kyle was sown on the left side of the uniform. I walk to my checkout counter cheerily. My workmates wave hello to me when they pass by.

   The store has a lot of buisiness for an early Monday morning. Then it hits me, Christmas is just around the corner, in about two weeks actually, and all these people are here to shop for their friends, family and kids. Video games, Pokemon cards, movies, action figures, plushies and board games fill my counter. I scan them all, take the purchasers' credit cards, swipe them and it's as easy as that. The morning passes quickly, and it's already lunch. Normally I just eat silently alone in the corner while many of my workmates chat, socialize and play cards. Today is different though. I bring my lunch to a nearby table where a few employees I often see around the store are playing Crazy Eights.

   "Mind if I join?" I ask politely, and give a smile. Britney, a chubby brunette girl smiles at me, and deals me eight cards from the deck. Joe, with his shaggy long hair and sunglasses, slaps me on the back.

   "Glad you're finally stepping out of your shell, Kyle." He rasps. I laugh. He reminds me too much of that hippy guy from the episode of The FairlyOdd Parents Dash and I watched together last Saturday night. The manager, Claire, looks up from her hand of cards.

   "Kyle, hey mind coming over here for a while? I was looking for you all break!" She says and gets up from her seat. I chuckle and point at her handful of cards.

   "Looks like you were really searching hard!" I joke. She growls and waves for me to follow. "Hey, I'll play later," I tell Britney and give her the cards. Then I jog to catch up to Klaire. She's heading for the boss' office. I gulp. A thousand reasons why I'm being sent here runs through my mind. Am I being fired? Receiving a raise? Being lay off? Come to think of it, there has been quite a bit of employees running around the store for the past week. We enter the office.

   Mrs. Harrold, the "big boss" sits at her desk. She's working on a computer, or just playing games because I don't see what there really is to do when you're the boss of a store.

   "Sit." She points at the chair in front of her desk. Claire leaves the room. I quietly walk to the chair and sit down. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble," Mrs. Harrold mumbles without looking up from her computer screen.

   "So what am I here for?" I question. This is really confusing honestly. Normal employees like me are only called down here to be fired. She slams the last few letters of what she was typing. She sighs.

   "I've heard from Claire you're looking for a job with a higher salary, am I correct?" I nod. "I have a friend who just started a five star restuarant, and he's looking for a few waiters." I perk up. "They've had great buisiness for the past month, but they only have two waitresses so far to seat the people, deliver the food, calculate bills and that stuff. You know what I'm talking about." I open my mouth to ask about the salary, but she beat me to it. "Now, you're probably wondering about the pay, it's 30 dollars per hour." My jaw drops, that sure beats the 12 dollars per hour here! Mrs. Harrold pulls out a form. "I've already recommended you to him. He wants you to sign these forms for the eight hour shifts. You get there at 9 in the morning, when they open, and stay till 5 at noon, that's when they'll have a part time waiter or waitress take over. Does this sound fair to you?" I nod eagerly, grinning like an idiot. This'll be great! "Good." She hands me a stack of paperwork. "Page three has all the information, where to find the restuarant, how staff are expected to behave and contact info. The rest of the pages are just forms for you to sign. Bring a resume and your ID to me tomorrow along with these paperwork complete, I'll photocopy the ID and give the forms to my friend over the weekend. He'll take a look at them, and if you match the standards, you'll be hired." She sighs, and slumps down in her chair, out of breath from explaining. "You may leave now." I stand up, and leave. Before I go back to the employee lounge, I stick my head back into Mrs. Harrold's office, and say my thanks.

   I unlock the door.

   "I'm home!" I call out. I hear footsteps, or hoofsteps to be more precise and Dash emerges from the living room. I smile. She jumps up and hugs me.

   "It's getting lonely here when you're at work." She whispers.

   "I'm sorry I guess." I reply. I've kept her cooped up for such a long time. She hasn't had any fresh air since the day we went to the theatre. But I can't let her out, I musn't. It'll be impossible to explain if someone saw her. To someone that's sane at least. I set Dash down, and walk to the living room to lie on the couch. The TV is turned on and Spongebob is showing. Dash plops on me and turns her head to the TV.

   "What're you doing?" I ask and let out a chuckle.

   "Well, you did steal my Spongebob watching spot. So I had to improvise for a new place." She laughs. It may look like the perfect way to sleep or lie somewhere, and it may be really comfy and warm. But trust me, moving one tiny muscle may result in Dash's displeasure.

   A few days pass quickly. I'm beginning to worry I didn't get the job as a waiter. It's a large pay, why give it to me? I sigh. I've checked the mail everyday in case I got a letter telling me I got the job. If I don't get it, I can't buy a car to make life easier, and I won't be able to afford to move into a house in an environment more suited for Dash. Speaking of Dash, she hasn't spoken to me for a the past few days since she told me she felt lonely.

   Oh god. What am I doing? I can barely support myself, what the hell made me think I could support her as well? I'm just bringing her down with me. She could be with somebody better. Earlier this morning, I called Dash for breakfast, but she just grunted and glared at me. Her expression screamed: I can't take this any longer. I winced. I push the memory aside, and open the front door. Slipping on my shoes, I put on my coat and step out.

   What am to do? I sit on the porch. No cars pass down this street. No people walk past. Good. Because a tear runs down my right cheek. I'm a failure. I'm glad no one is here to watch me cry. Dash is inside watching cartoons. She doesn't need to see me like this either. I promised her I would figure a way to get her outside. I feel like an idiot promising something I can't supply. I bury my face into my hands. Shit! This wasn't how I had hoped our life would work out. She's supposed to be happy. I'm supposed to be happy. But here we are, me struggling to support us and her with a growing hunger for activity.

   I could've cried all noon. But the mailman takes me by surprise.

   "Letters for Kyle Linston." I wiped the tears from my face before I look up. I snatch the mail and mumble a thank you. He leaves. I rummage through the envelopes. Bills, advertisements, pizza coupons, my typical mail. But the last one perks my interest. My name was written in sharpie on the envelope, and I almost had a heart attack of joy when I saw the return address. Roy's Five Star Restuarant.