Roz's Lunch Break
Posted on October 6, 2013
Crap, I only have fifteen minutes left.

I wipe the mayonnaise from my lips, lie down on the couch, and text Joe the grocery list.

RozLove29: Babe, buy white cheese, milk, bread, coffee, chocolate syrup, swiss cheese, ham, eggs, turkey, provolone cheese, and Leinenkugel Berry Weiss.  Please don't forget my beer. Smooch!

"How much time you got left on your break, Roz?" Karen asks when she enters our lounge.

I look at my wrist watch after sliding my phone into my side pocket. "Twelve minutes."

Damn it. I forgot to wash Bella's uniform for her T-ball game at noon.

RozLove29: Can you spray Bella's t-ball shirt with a ton of Febreeze? Her game is at twelve. Don't forget her glove. Love you!

Karen takes off her blue shirt and whips it around to freshen it up. "Girl, you know what Mike did yesterday? Well, he had the nerve to-"

Karen goes on as I drift into automatic mode, nodding at her pauses, huffing when she laughs as if I found the humor in her story. I don't have the energy right now to keep up with her soap opera relationship, but I know she needs me to listen. She listens to my stories all the time.

Karen finishes the details of her fight with her husband and leaves our break room laughing. Her story had something to do with whipped cream and pillow cases. Damn, I should have paid attention.

Nine minutes left.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and open them again.  The silence of the room is interrupted by the beeping sound of a distant monitor. I'm on my break, someone else will get it. I only had five hours of sleep after yesterday's shift. Why can't I get a nap now? Just an itty bitty Micro Nap, as Lucas calls it.

I can't wait to see Lucas in his play later this afternoon. He's playing the lead in his school's adaptation of High School Musical. My son has quite a voice.  I pull out my phone and set an alarm to wake up at two thirty, with enough time before his show to shower, eat, and get a latte with a Turbo Shot at Dunkin Donuts. That should pull me through all the way to the dinner afterwards. I have to get home by nine so I can get a few more hours of sleep before my next shift at eleven.

That constant beeping is keeping me up. I think it's Mrs. Johannes - she's been having trouble with her oxygen levels. That poor old lady...she lost her husband last year and her son the year before. Now she's alone, with no children or grandchildren to keep her hopes up. I'll make sure to get that Star magazine she asked for earlier as soon as the gift shop opens.

It's still beeping. Karen should have gotten that by now. She knows I'm on my break. Just another two seconds and I'll run out to -

There. Someone finally got it.

What will I wear to the play? I can already hear Vicki tell me to put on more blush. Though she's only ten years old, she gives me tips on makeup and hair styling techniques from watching videos online. Thank goodness she showed me how to style my hair into a twist with just a pencil; only God knows how many scrunchies I've lost around here.

Six minutes left.

I press my eyes shut and take a slow, deep breath again. "Sleep damn it!" I say through clenched teeth.

I conjure up images of starry night skies, snow-capped mountains, baby seals, wind blowing through trees, ocean waves along a beach....

There's a crowded Tiki bar just a few feet away. I'm wearing a sky blue halter dress that accentuate my shoulders. It flaps softly in the sea breeze as I walk barefoot across the beach towards the counter. A young bartender wearing a white cotton t-shirt and worn blue jeans checks me out from head to toe.

"A Chocolate Martini please," I say in a breathy voice.

Enrique Iglesias, my bartender, smiles gloriously at me as he finishes pouring the mixture into the martini glass. The drink's chocolate color makes me lick my lips. "Here you go Gorgeous," he says, in a delicious Spanish accent. I suck in a quick breath. His eyes are aimed right at my breasts.

I take a long sip and soon I'm sucking in air. The Tiki bar is now empty. Enrique picks me up over the counter, wraps my legs around his waist and buries his day-old beard into a perfect spot my neck. His hands creep up my back, untie my halter dress, and...

The alarm on my phone goes off. I open my eyes to the darkness of the break room. I have a minute to wash my face, fix my hair, and get a 5-Hour Energy bottle from the vending machine.

I release a loud sigh and straighten out my scrubs. Mrs. Johannes's monitor is going off again. It's four thirty in the morning - time to get back to work.


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