After Hours

   “Good work today everybody, make sure you get a good night’s rest and stay safe.”  Gale said.

“Thanks, boss!” they all chorused. Mary Jane went to the changing room to take off her apron and work outfit while preparing to close the café for the night and leave.

She picked out a face wipe from her bag, carefully wiping away the grime, dust particles and sweat from her face that had gathered: from the days work . She sighed deeply thinking about the bills that were waiting for her at home and finally decided to head home.

     She said goodnight to Gale one last time before she left the cafe. A little way down the the street, she ran into David Beckham.

“Were you waiting for me?” She asked, a little bit confused.

“Uh…yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks turning red. “I, um, wanted to see if you’d be free this Friday. Maybe grab a bite, or something?”

“I’m really sorry, Dave,” she said gently, “but I’ve got another shift Friday night—over at that diner across town. I’d love to, but the extra hours help a lot.” She tried to offer him a smile, hoping it would soften the blow.

Dave’s face fell, “oh, that’s fine, I understand.”

She reached out, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe some other time,” she said softly, hoping he could see the sincerity in her eyes. With a wave, she turned toward the bus stop, glancing back once to see him still standing there, disappointed.

“I did the right thing, there’s just too much going on in my life right now for a love life. Dave’s a good guy and he deserves someone who has time to spare”, she thought.

   Finally bone tired and sleep deprived, Mary arrived at her home. The dimly lit hallway felt like a warm embrace after a long day at work. She fumbled for the elevator button, heavy eyelids threatening to close as she leaned against the wall.

The elevator’s gentle hum felt like a lullaby, and when the doors opened, she blinked herself awake, trudging down the hallway to her door.

The familiar chaos inside greeted her as she turned the key, and she let out a sigh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Mary Jane’s apartment was a stark reflection of her life—a place where dreams were once vibrant but now felt dulled by the weight of routine and responsibilities.

The apartment, though small and cluttered, held its own sort of comfort. Stacks of magazines teetered on the coffee table,their pages curling at the edges as if they, too, were tired. The couch, a faded beige monstrosity, sagged in the middle from countless late-night study sessions and movie marathons. A pile of dirty dishes filled the sink from hurried meals and late-night snacks. It was a mess, but it was her mess.

The air felt stale, mixed with the lingering scent of old take-out and the faint whiff of laundry that had been left too long in the dryer. The walls were painted beige and were fading into a softer, sadder shade. Mary had always envisioned brightening the space with vibrant colors, but each time she thought about it, the idea felt as daunting as scaling a mountain.

A few photos hung crookedly on the walls, showing moments of laughter and joy—friends smiling at some distant beach, a birthday celebration where she wore a bright smile, and another where her younger self stood proud next to her high school diploma, dreams shimmering in her eyes.

Mary stepped further into the apartment, rubbing her eyes as she took in the chaos. The small kitchen was no better—scuffed linoleum floors, a dull yellow counter-top. The fridge hummed quietly, its surface covered in colorful magnets and hastily written reminders, a small burst of brightness against the otherwise drab surroundings.

She dropped her keys in the bowl by the door and was about to collapse onto the couch when she heard a familiar voice from down the hall. “Mary Jane?”

Her mother’s voice drifted through the apartment, warm and gentle, carrying with it a sense of familiarity that made Mary’s shoulders relax instantly.

“I’m home, Ma!” Mary called, her voice stained with a soft note of relief. She moved toward the living room, where her mother was slowly making her way in from the bedroom.

Her mother, Lynn, smiled when she saw Mary. Her once-bright auburn hair was streaked with gray, and her lavender sweater hung a little loosely on her frame. There were more lines around her eyes than there used to be, each one marking a year of worries and sleepless nights.

“How was work?” Lynn asked, reaching out to pull Mary into a hug.

“Oh, you know…busy. A lot of running around,” Mary replied, trying to keep her tone light, though the exhaustion slipped through. She’d grown used to hiding her tiredness, but with her mother, it always seemed to surface.

“I’m so sorry you have to work so hard. I wish I could help.” Her mother gave her a warm hug, and Mary sank into it, wishing life could be easier for them both.

“It’s okay, Ma. I know you would if you could.” She sighed into her mother’s embrace.

“Things would have been different if your father were here…” she sniffled. Mary didn’t want to have this conversation.

Mary pulled back, her own eyes glistening. “Mom, please…” she said softly, holding back the tears threatening to spill. “It’s fine, we’re fine…”, she trailed off.

It was about to be a really nostalgic night.