3 months ago
"I'm sorry Allie, I just can't do this anymore." Mark picked up his shirt and jacket before leaving the bedroom. Allie scooped up the sheets and wrapped them around herself before following Mark out into her living room.
"I thought things were good! I-I don't understand!" Mark shook his head and stuffed his socked feet into his boots.
"I-, Well, My heart just isn't in it. I'm sorry." He walked out the door, leaving the girl to fall apart on the floor.
Allie Sutherland left her apartment building to join the bustle of New York City at 6:15 p.m. This petite blonde was off to one of her many jobs; tonight, bartending. She worked part time as a bartender and part time as a waitress, to pay off her student loans from college. The rest of the time, she was on the stage. She had done almost everything: one woman shows, dancing in a chorus, a small speaking role or solo in a musical, co-producing, costume design, and writing. She had put herself through Juliard, majoring in Theatric Arts, on a partial scholarship. As for the other expenses, she was forced to come up with for herself, when her parents refused to support her dream.
"Why can't you go into the business?" Mr. Sutherland exclaimed, distraught. Allie frowned.
"The business? I don't want to work in insurance, Dad!" Mr. Sutherland sighed and excused himself to the kitchen for a drink. His wife leaned over to her daughter and spoke in rushed tones.
"This is unacceptable, Allison. You are the daughter of a prominent businessman in North Carolina, and you are going to throw it away to be an actor? You'll live on the streets, you never have any money, you're ruining your life." Allie stood up.
"How dare you, mother! I am pursuing my dream, I am independent! Which is more than I can say about you! I don't want to throw away my dreams to work in insurance, or worse, be the wife of an alcoholic asshole who thinks he can buy the world!" Mr. Sutherland returned to the room.
"This is absurd! Leave my house! You aren't welcome here!" Tears of anger sprinkled in her eyes, but Allie didn't back down.
"Fine! I'll be in New York!"
Allie shook her head, erasing the memory, as she entered NightLife, the bar she worked. She was barely legal at 22, but she apparently had the pretty face required to be a bartendress. She nodded to Jorge, the manager, and made her way to the back room.
"Hey Al!" Remarked her perky co-worker, Andrea. Allie gave her a quick hug.
"Hi, Andy." She opened the blue locker with "Allie" written across on duct tape. Before she could change, she felt the sudden urge to vomit, and excused herself to the bathroom. She came back as if nothing had happened, and pulled out a black sleeveless tank and a black and white plaid skirt. She stripped off her jeans, striped turtleneck, scarf, and heavy tan jacket before putting on her uniform. She was tying her green apron in the back when Jorge walked in.
"Attention chicas! We have a new male bartender!" A man with lightly colored long hair, dressed in torn jeans and a leather jacket, came in behind Jorge. "This is Roger Davis. Um, Allie, darling, show Roger the ropes would ya?" She nodded and closed her locker. He approached her, with his arm outstretched.
"Roger." She nodded.
"Allie. Um, follow me." She led him out to the main room, and behind the bar. She pulled out several large bottles and set them up on the counter. "Ok, make me a Screwdriver." Roger was taken aback by her assertiveness, but he followed her orders. He finished, and handed it to her.
"Here." She set it down.
"Ok, good. So, is there anything you don't know how to make?" Roger ignored her question.
"Aren't you gonna taste it? I mean, how do you know if I did it right?" Allie rolled her eyes.
"Roger. I've been working here for like, almost a year and half, I think I know without tasting it that it's made right." He yawned and leaned on the bar.
"Oh, I get it. Isn't a little weird, for a recovering alcoholic to be working at a bar?"
"Excuse me? What makes you think I was an alcoholic? Did your mommy teach you to be such an ass?" She put the bottles back and washed out the glass.
"OK, I guess I wrong. Sorry…are you pregnant?" Allie dropped the glass on the floor, causing it to shatter.
"N-No! Of course not!" Roger smirked.
"Does your boyfriend know?" Allie sighed.
"I don't have a boyfriend, and I'm not pregnant! Why don't you go change or something?" He smiled and disappeared to the back room. Allie sighed, and pulled out her phone.
"Hello? Doctor Bennett? This is Allison Sutherland. I'd like to make an appointment."
Dr. Bennett strode into the room where Allie was shifting uncomfortably on the patient table.
"Well Miss Sutherland, I have some good news," Allie's eyes widened, "You are indeed pregnant."
"Oh my god." She sighed and took a deep breath. "Um, how far along?" Dr. Bennett looked down at his clipboard.
"Hmmm, about 3 months?" Tears fell into her lap.
"Mark." She mumbled lowly. She grabbed her jacket and excused herself from the room. At the curb, she called a cab to take her to her waitressing job at the Life Café. She arrived late, and her boss let her know it.
"I know, you're working two jobs and pursuing the arts, but I can accept your constant tardiness. Shape it up, Allie." Allies nodded and threw on her apron, grabbed her notepad and pen, and headed towards table 12.
"Hey, I'm Allie, I'll be your server tonight what can I-" When she looked up at her customers, it was Roger and a large black man.
"Well, if it isn't my co-worker, Miss Allie…something or other." Allie rolled her eyes.
"Roger. Learned some people skills yet?" Roger's friend stood up and outstretched his hand.
"Hello Miss, I'm Collins. It's nice to meet you." She smiled at this man's polite gesture.
"You too, Collins!" She looked over at Roger. "So, what do you want?" Roger looked down at his menu for a bit, and looked up at the blonde.
"Your number." Allie was taken aback.
"I want your number." Collins hit Roger on the arm.
"Dude, you don't just ask people for their numbers like that!" Allie shook her head.
"No, it's ok." She ripped off a piece of paper, wrote her number out and her name above it, and handed it to him. "Here. Call me whenever." She walked away, looking back at him, and smiling.
"Wait, Allie, our order?" Collins cried, as Roger pocketed the slip of paper and gloated. Allie sat at the counter.
"Mary-Anne, can you take table 12? I've had sort of a conflict of interest." The woman in her mid-forties smiled and nodded at her, before heading to Roger's table.
Allie got home after a quick and random audition for a part in some play. Her answering machine flashed with two calls, so she hit the playback button.
"Allie? It's Roger. Um, I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime? I know you probably think I'm an ass, but…well, you're pretty damn attractive. So call me back at 247-9031. Later!"
"Allie-Allison, I don't know what to call you anymore. Um, it's…well, it's Mark. Wow, this is awkward. I was wondering…maybe, we could, get together, talk? I feel bad about the way things ended. I'll call back."
She had collapsed on her couch after hearing the second message, completely wiping Roger's invitation to dinner from her mind. She sat for over 2 hours, listening to the cars drive by, with the occasional having-to-vomit scenario. She had cried a bit, and thought some more. Mark. She wished she could forget him. She had almost succeeded, until she had gone to the doctor. The phone rang from the kitchen counter and she scurried to pick it up.
"H-Hello?" She wiped her eyes and tried to pretend she wasn't crying.
"Allie!" She sighed.
"Yeah…listen, can we get together? Maybe you can come over?" Allie closed her eyes, excuses why not ran through her head.
"Um, I guess so. Are you still living in the same place?"
"Yeah, but I got a roommate. He's a good guy, and he's not here at the moment…"
"Ok, sure. I'll be over in a bit."
Author's Note: I hope you like it, I just had inspiration while watching Gilmore Girls…a little odd, but I guess, being the Renthead I am, I am ALWAYS thinking about it!