“Marlboro Reds. Two.”

The older gentleman grunted, reaching into his jeans pocket for a torn and faded wallet which had long seen better days.

I got off the stool and opened the cigarette cabinet with the cluster of keys that hung off my khakis. I slid him the boxes and he slid me the money, as if it were some kind of a strange, western stand-off.

“Thank you, have a great day,” I yawned.

He stopped in his tracks before he reached for the front door, “You’re too young to be tired, son!” He laughed, mocking me.

I rolled my eyes as the door banged shut behind him.

This guy came in every couple of days. I’m pretty sure he’s homeless and lives in a cardboard box somewhere a few blocks away, so I have no idea where he’s getting the money to buy these pricey cigarettes. His name is Hank, I think? That’s what Skip told me anyway. They both seem to get along well for whatever reason.

He actually left about 15 minutes ago, so now I’m left to fend for this glorified convenience store all by myself. “Oh- so uh, I’ve got a hot date tonight, so I’m headin’ out early! Don’t tell Frank,” he winked and grinned widely, in his usual fashion. Sure buddy. Sure thing. You’ve got about as much skill with the ladies as I do trying to putt a golf ball with a zucchini. But sure.

An hour passed. Then another. One more and I’ll be out of here and can finally pass out on my cousin’s couch and be ready for another pointless day. Can I even make it until then?

The bell above the front door loudly jingled and jolted me out of a dream where I was riding a taco like a mechanical bull.

I loudly snorted and righted myself to see an exceptionally tall girl staring strangely at me.

She had to be at least 6’2” and around my age.

As a 19 year-old 6-footer I’ve never met a girl that was taller than me before.

I looked down to see a puddle of drool where I was sleeping and sheepishly wiped the rest off my cheek.

She was completely unfazed, “Do you guys sell cakes here? Like big ones?”

This isn’t a bakery.

“Uh- sometimes we have a couple, but we normally just sell them by the slice.”

“Oh okay.”

She wore a gold necklace with the letter D.

Darcy? Daisy? Dana?

Her baggy jeans dragged across the floor as she made her way to the back in search of cake.

I wonder what the occasion is, I mean- it is almost midnight. I think there’s only a large chocolate and a medium strawberry cream back there; we ran out of individual slices yesterday.

She happily hollered from the back, “I didn’t know you guys had decorating stuff too! Sweet!”

She sure is cheerful. Is she always like this? Or did something really good happen to her? I can’t tell.

She plopped the strawberry cream cake, decorating supplies, a jar of pickles, a pack of Reese’s cups, and a watermelon vitamin water on the counter and smiled excitedly.

“You sure have quite the goods there, what’s the occasion?”

She slapped the counter dramatically and looked off by the hot dog warmer that was still slowly rotating. “Well, it’s like this ya see-” she looked back over at me.

“In my opinion, I don’t think we celebrate enough of the little things. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I don’t know if you really do though.”

“If you explain I’ll listen.”

She took the hood off of her head and loose red curls fell out.

Her cartoonishly big blue eyes seemed to drift off into a space that wasn’t quite here but wasn’t quite over there either, “In my opinion, as a people, most of us celebrate things like birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, stuff like that, but that’s all outward stuff. Nobody celebrates the inner stuff that we accomplish.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Things like- finally becoming fluent in a language, overcoming social anxiety, putting together your first set of IKEA furniture without help, stuff like that.”

“I see, I see.”

“Also for example, guess what I did literally a few hours ago?”

“What?”

“I left all four of my ‘best friends’- including my boyfriend who cheated on me with one of

them-“ she sprung up three fingers, “THREE TIMES by the way!” She gently lowered her hand.

“ -now I’m completely alone. With no friends or boyfriend to be had. Making that decision to leave them was one of the easiest yet hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. I deserve something at least, ya know?”

I had a feeling she wasn’t quite done, so I motioned for her to continue.

“Do I get a cake for waking up? Realizing my kindness was being abused and that this is not how real friends are supposed to be? How about one for standing up to the people who bullied me, talked behind my back, and pretended to care about me and throwing them out of my life?

Dang. She was onto something here. I wish I got a cake for standing up to my abusive, alcoholic parents and moving out to brave the world with my cousin.

“How about for breaking up with my boyfriend while risking him spreading untrue rumors about me and my past mistakes, knowing I deserve better for myself?”

“I totally agree with everything you’re saying. These kinds of victories and other ‘little’ things like that just aren’t appreciated and celebrated enough honestly.“

She smiled hopefully, like someone finally understood where she was coming from.

“One more thing too!” She pulled out a card and plopped it on the counter.

“I just got a gig over at the Blue Mule to play every weekend! My favorite place!” She shook her head. “No cake for that either.”

We both laughed, and it was the first time I had really truly laughed the past couple of days. She’s definitely a breath of fresh air around these parts.

“Now I’m going to go home and decorate my own cake and eat every bite of it. Because me and others deserve to celebrate our inner victories, as you said.”

Oh god. I think I’m blushing. No no no no.

She squinted at my name tag, “Blake.”

I pointed finger guns at her awkwardly and she cackled. “I like you Blake. You’re like, a really good listener.”

“So I’ve been told, heh.”

“Most people don’t really take the time to hear me out, so I really appreciate this. You’re a pretty chill guy.”

Most people don’t really say chill, they use the words boring, dull, or traditional usually.

“What’s your name?”

“Dalaena.”

Dalaena. That’s pretty.

I took the card and flipped it over:

BLUE MULE BAR & RESTAURANT

DALAENA PERKINS

FRI-SAT 8-10pm

“I’ve never been to the Blue Mule, but I’d love to hear you play sometime. I bet you’re great.

What kind of music do you play?”

“Folk mostly, though I experiment with piano at times too.”

“Sounds awesome. I’ll see you there tomorrow, I get off at around 7.”

“Sweet!”

She playfully grabbed my hand and shook it, “Thank you so much. Seriously. I didn’t think I’d make a new friend this quickly!”

Wow. Someone actually thanked me and wants to be my friend? Yep, definitely blushing.

Aaaand now I’m smiling all big too. Hah.

“I’ll see you then!” Dalaena let the door shut as she began to skip away.

I called out after her behind the glass,

“I’ll bring the other cake! Don’t you worry!”

She stopped and guffawed for a few seconds, waved good-bye and then continued to skip away with her brown paper bag.

Who is this smiling, gregarious doofus whose possessed my body? I’m definitely not used to this. But honestly? It feels right.

Maybe she can teach me a thing or two about celebrating the small things in life and putting myself out there more.

What do I have to lose?