For various reasons, I'm ceasing activity on this blog. I'm leaving it up because I can't be bothered to delete it, but from here on out I will not be posting anything here.
So I'm sorry to the one or two people who actually cared even a shred about my content, and to the only person who voted on my poll, but I'm over this.
This is not a cry for help, nor is it a demand for attention. This is a courtesy to those who actually appreciated my work.
i know it can be discouraging to post your writing online and not get a lot of engagement or reads, but lack of engagement does not mean your writing is bad or uninteresting. please don't let it dim your light
(if I'm wrong about these or I missed anything please let me know, I'm still trying to get used to writing TWs)
Was this really the life heâd signed up for?
He still kept his smile on as he placed dishes at the serving window, but he was certain that their regulars and the other staffers knew he was faking it. There were no lighthearted remarks from him anymore, nor was he working with the same energy as before. He was still just as efficient, but there was a notable shift in his behavior.
The reason for this change was his wife.
Since their wedding day, she hadnât done a thing to help him. The house was always a mess when Bob returned home from work, and Teresa was usually entertaining herself. She didnât even bother to acknowledge him anymore when he returned home. If Bob ever said a thing about her lack of participation, sheâd yell at him and force him to apologize. If he ever pointed out that sheâd broken something or made a mess, sheâd deny it and somehow convince him that it was his fault, that heâd broken it, that heâd forgotten to clean it up.
If that was what marriage entailed, then what the hell was he doing?
At around two, the restaurant was completely cleared out, a rare occasion - although it usually pointed to a tedious dinner rush ahead. Bob was distracting himself by doing dishes, when he heard a low whistle. He looked over his shoulder to see Marsha and the busboy watching him.
Before Bob could say hello, Marsha bluntly asked, âWhatâs going on with you?â
Bob paused for a second. If he lied, would Marsha know? He had no way to tell. Heâd never lied to any of the staff before.
He decided to chance it. âIt ainât nothinâ. Iâm just⌠mentally bracing myself for the dinner rush tonight.â
Marsha raised an eyebrow, but she was quick to recognize that she wouldnât get anything else out of him. âIf you say so, big man. Iâll leave you to it then.â
She left the kitchen and started speaking with the manager. Charice took no nonsense and was usually very stoic, but Bob could see through the serving window that she looked concerned. Was Marsha telling her something about him? He sincerely hoped not.
A few hours more of intense work, and finally the dinner rush was over. As Bob was hanging up his apron, he heard chatter from the rest area. âYou know heâs lying, right?â
âYes, Marsha, I know. But what do you expect me to do about it?â
âYouâre the boss. Canât you, I donât know, make him tell you the truth?â
âI donât have any more authority to do that than I do to take your phone. Iâm his boss, not his mom.â
âThen what can you do?â
There was a brief pause. âMarsha, is there any particular reason youâre bringing this up?â
Another pause. âI think I know whatâs going on, and if Iâm right, then itâs my fault.â
âAre you talking about your friend?â
âShe was horrible in high school, but when we reconnected a few years ago, she seemed to be doing better.â
âWas she doing better, or did she just get better at hiding it?â
When Marsha didnât answer, Charice continued. âLook, Marsha, I understand why youâre upset. But because this is a personal matter, I canât really do much to help.â
âI donât know if I can face him after thisâŚâ
Charice huffed. âNow youâre being dramatic. Iâm certain he doesnât blame you.â
âCharice, heâs gonna keep coming to work and never address the problem if you donât take action. My dad did the same thing - he started using his job as a means to avoid coming home. I donât want one of my only good friends to suffer too.â It sounded like Marsha was on the verge of tears.
Charice sighed. âI⌠Iâll see what I can do. Go home and get some rest.â
Bob tried to play it cool when Marsha walked past him. She didnât seem to notice that heâd been eavesdropping. Seconds later, Charice emerged and stood before him. âBob.â
âAinât it rude to talk about someone behind their back?â
Charice grimaced. âYou heard us talking.â
âLook, Charice, there ainât nothinâ wrong with me. Iâm here, arenât I? I did my job, didnât I?â
âThatâs not the point and you know it.â Chariceâs tone left absolutely no room for argument. Bob dared to meet her gaze directly, and he saw just how angry she was. Charice looked a bit like Teresa, actually, with her blonde hair framing her furious features. The only difference was that Charice was far kinder to him than Teresa.
âI know somethingâs going on. Iâm not gonna push, but I wonât let you use us as a distraction tactic. To put it bluntly, I donât want to see you here tomorrow.â
Bob felt like heâd been stabbed in the heart. He couldnât believe what he was hearing. âAre you firing me?!â
Charice held up a hand. âI didnât say that. Iâm putting you on paid leave as of tomorrow. I donât want to have to do this, but until you get yourself together, I canât have you here. Iâm sorry, Bob, I am.â
He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, but he fought them back. Heâd sworn to himself heâd never cry in front of the manager. âWhyâŚ?â
âGo home, Bob. And donât come back until youâve figured yourself out.â
And with that, she left him there, with his broken heart and no escape.
Bob glanced over his shoulder, squinting at Teresaâs phone. âHmm⌠not too sure. It doesnât have very good reviews.â
Teresa rolled her eyes. âWhat other people think isnât everything. Iâm asking if you like it.â
âSweet pea, if it makes you happy, then Iâm fine with whatever you pick. Iâve never imagined myself getting married, I have no idea what Iâm doing.â
âYes, Iâve noticed. Ideally Iâd handle everything myself, but that isnât fair to you. You took tomorrow off for your fitting, right?â
âOf course.â
âGood. And I have mine next week. Donât forget.â
She turned and walked upstairs. Bob put the spatula down and sighed to himself. He hadnât ever expected to be planning a wedding, much less his own, and he had certainly not thought about how exhausting it would be. This week it had been all about wedding venues, last week was about outfits, and this upcoming week would be invitations. He felt so tempted to tell Teresa to just take care of it, like sheâd wanted, but he didnât want to be rude to his wife-to-be.
Teresa, his ray of sunshine. She made all this stress worth it. He wouldâve gladly flown to Mars and back for Teresa. Heâd climb Mount Everest for her, even. Getting through wedding planning was a trifle compared to those things.
But if that were true, why was it so hard?
He resumed cooking, trying to forget the stress of wedding planning for the moment. He could tell Teresa was stressed too, but she was certainly holding herself together much better than he. That was one of the many things he admired about Teresa.
Something else came to mind. Heâd never envisioned himself getting married, nor had he ever thought about a future beyond fast food. He was still reeling from the fact that a bombshell like Teresa would even be interested in a guy like him. He was in his thirties, working a dead end job and he had never thought of himself as particularly attractive. But now that it was in front of his face, he couldnât ignore it - what was he planning to do now? Surely things would change after the wedding, and that was something he was nowhere near prepared for.
Teresa returned to the table, taking her seat gracefully and waiting for him to serve dinner. That was another thing Bob didnât understand - shouldnât such a sophisticated woman be with someone more of her status? Whatever that would be, he certainly wasnât it.
And yet⌠here he was, and here was Teresa.
He kept his head down as he ate, but of course nothing escaped Teresaâs watchful eyes. âSomething wrong?â
For some reason, something told Bob that telling Teresa about his earlier reflection was a bad idea. He wasnât sure why, but he decided to follow that instinct. âIt ainât nothinâ. Iâm tired.â
Teresa raised an eyebrow, but after a few moments of silence, she seemed to accept that that was the only answer she was getting. They finished the meal in silence.
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
The previous seven months of stress were over, and had given life to the most beautiful ceremony Bob had ever witnessed. There he stood, before a small crowd consisting mostly of Teresaâs friends, with his coworkers all in the front row. White rose petals fluttered in the breeze, and the sunshine filtered through the transparent curtains at the altar cast a hazy glow over the space, giving the wedding a very fairytale-esque air.
The doors at the edge of the garden opened, and out came Teresa, accompanied by her father. She wore a fanciful gown with a sweetheart neckline and gauzy sleeves, and her veil was held in place by a glittering tiara. And just when Bob thought she couldnât ever look any more stunning.
Of course, the bride commanded everyoneâs attention - including the groom - simply by existing. Despite the fact that the shoes sheâd chosen were six-inch heels, she didnât even stumble. She walked calmly, with graceful, even strides. As Bob stood there, awaiting his wife-to-be, he questioned what heâd been so frustrated about. All of that had allowed this perfect day to happen, and he couldnât be happier.
Teresa finally stepped up to the altar, smiling at Bob through her veil. The priest gave a speech about love and sacrifice, most of which Bob missed because his only focus was on his bride. It appeared Teresa did the same.
The priest finished his speech and continued, âWe are gathered here today to celebrate the union between Teresa and Bob. Bob, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?â
Bobâs smile was bright enough to light up a room. âI do.â
âAnd, Teresa, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?â
âI do.â Even though her face wasnât entirely visible, anyone could hear the authenticity in her voice.
âVery well. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.â
Bob reached out, carefully removing the veil from Teresaâs face. Her eyes were as bright as stars. They slowly leaned together, eyes locked, shutting out everything else but each otherâs smiling faces⌠and kissed.
The audience applauded and cheered as the newlyweds waved, the entire garden filled with excitement over the event and joy for the happy couple.
If only theyâd truly been as happy as they appeared...
The hustle and bustle of the restaurant was comforting to Bob, somewhat similar to how some people use white noise to sleep better. The day was an endless slog of cooking meat and serving sides, but it was work that he was glad to do. He had always had a special passion for cooking.
âWeâve got another Slider Special on the ticket!â He heard a call from the serving window. Marsha was the restaurantâs veteran waitress, having been there for almost four years. All of the patrons and staff loved Marsha.
âCominâ right up!â Bob shouted back. He set to work filling the order. Slider Specials were the most popular item, and theyâd only been on the menu for three days. This had caused some issues at first since there werenât a lot of workers in the kitchen, which meant, more often than not, Bob had to work extra shifts. He didnât really mind, though. The workload kept him busy and his mind occupied, and it wasnât like he had anything better to do.
The added benefit to being the restaurantâs only cook was his increased efficiency. He could blast through a number of complex orders with no trouble, that was how good he was. Once there had been a crazy lunch rush that there was a line outside that stretched all the way around the area. Heâd filled a hundred and twelve orders that day, and he could have done even more.
He slid the tray to the window and rang the bell, signaling Marsha to pick it up. It was going to be rinse and repeat for the next few hours until closing time. There was only one busboy, and he was still fairly new to this, so the waitstaff and Bob would always stay late to help him out. They all had to take shifts washing the dishes too, since there wasnât a designated dishwasher on staff.
At the end of the day, all of the staff, excluding the manager, gathered in the dining room. There was Marsha, the two male waitstaff, the busboy, and Bob. Everyone got to work clearing the tables and clearing the floors, and got it all done within twenty minutes working as a cohesive unit. The busboy was the last to do the dishes, so Bob was hanging up his apron and preparing to leave.
As he pulled his coat from where heâd hung it up, something caught the corner of his eye. Turning his head ever so slightly, he saw Marsha talking to a striking woman with blonde hair. She was tall and shapely, and looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, not talking to the waitress at a burger joint. Once sheâd gotten his attention, he couldnât take his eyes off of her.
Clearly he wasnât being as subtle as heâd thought, because next thing he knew, Marsha was calling his name and beckoning him over. The woman was also looking in his direction, and Bob knew he had to approach her now. He shuffled over to the women, trying to appear casual and like he hadnât just been undressing Marshaâs friend with his eyes.
âBob, this is Teresa. We went to college together. We just reconnected recently and sheâs expressed interest in meeting you.â
âTo be perfectly honest, I thought she was making you up,â the blonde woman admitted. âI mean, she certainly didnât do you justice. She never really explained how⌠handsome you are.â
Bob looked away, already feeling the heat rush to his face. He didnât even know this woman, and yet she was already making him feel some sort of way. âItâs, uh⌠itâs a pleasure to meet ya, TeresaâŚâ
He briefly glanced at her, and their eyes locked. She was so pretty, he couldnât take his eyes off of her a second time. Marsha was saying something, but he was oblivious to everything but Teresa. What was this feelingâŚ?
âYou know,â Teresa spoke, breaking the silence. âYou have to close up the store, so Iâll let you get to it. But afterwards, thereâs a great place that opened up a few weeks ago, and they make the best Shirley Temple Iâve ever had. Iâm sure youâd love it.â
Bob felt his eyes widen automatically. âAre ya⌠did ya just ask me out?â
Teresa answered him with a dazzling smile, before turning and walking away, leaving Bob red-faced and possibly in love.
Alva is so cool! And she seems like she may be the kind of older sibling who would be annoyed most of the time by the sibling, but wouldn't hesitate to jump and defend them. á^]
Would you mind telling me about Alvas personality so I can portray her accurately
Sheâs very serious, she gets annoyed very easily and tends to get snappy with people she doesnât like. When talking to someone, sheâs usually neutral unless they really tick her off. If thatâs the case⌠well, sheâs less than hospitable. Iâll leave it at that.
sheâs also 16 btw, dunno if that helps
She also has magic but thatâs not always relevant to her interactions, though it can be depending on who sheâs talking to
It's so cool that you have an OC that is Bob's kid too! I have one and he is much different from Alva (obviously, since no two OCs are the same). His name is Casper. I would love to see the two characters interact if you are okay with it?
If youâre asking if you can draw my OC, then Iâm perfectly fine with it as long as you properly credit me.
if you meant something else then please specify.
and feel free to let me know if you have any questions!
I think your OC is really cool! Alva has the same last name as Bob, are the two related? Based on some context clues I think Bob is her Father? By all means correct me if I'm wrong, she is your OC after all. á^]
First off, thank you for your ask!
Second, yes! They are father and daughter. I tried to make her look somewhat like him without making it too obvious
