Darkheart

The Past: Right & Wrong

When the initial training for the dining hall work at the resort had taken place, Kevin hadn't figured out he'd missed the invite until it was over, and only then it'd been because the sort-of girlfriend of one of his friends mentioned it when they'd all been hanging out that night. They'd been sitting there in Kramer's pot-filled basement, doing a whole lot of nothing, when that girl had just blurted out something about not looking forward to feeding a bunch of rich people and having to wear a smile while doing it. He'd had to clear his mind a little before catching on to what she'd said, but when he'd realized he'd missed out, it clicked that he hadn't actually been hired at all.

Though he'd been disappointed, he'd accepted it as a pretty reasonable outcome, consistent with most of his other life failures. Still, the slight had weighed on him enough that he'd mistakenly mentioned it to his father, who'd reacted with a disparaging tirade and the insistence that Kevin accept fate and just work at the family car business, like his brother.

That'd been all Kevin needed as motivation to try again.

The day after his father's comments, he'd walked the several miles to the resort, avoided the guard booth by crossing the golf course and staying as close to the woods as possible, and walked right into the dining hall. Fueled by a determination born of the desire to prove his father wrong, of the desperate fear of ending up stuck with Mike the rest of his life, Kevin had approached the woman behind the lobby desk like a storm ready to burst. In fact, she'd visibly backed away from him, causing him to realize he needed to tone it down.

"I'm sorry," he'd calmed himself enough to say, taking note of the way she'd eyed his grunge-casual clothing, his in-need-of-a-wash hair. "I was told I had a job serving, back at the high school. But I missed the training; nobody ever told me about it. I--I'm hoping I can still work here."

Narrowing her eyes, the woman had shaken her graying hair behind her shoulders and superiorly told him that all the positions had been filled, that the resort had already been open a week and didn't need anyone else. Then she'd told him to leave the property and threatened to call the police if he wouldn't.

Kevin had balked at that. It'd seemed a bit severe, but he couldn't get involved with the police. He'd already dusted his record with a few misdemeanors; his father would kill him if there were any more. So he'd turned to leave, but just as he'd done so, a man in a ridiculous outfit had entered the building in a conspicuous ray of sunshine that had serendipitously beamed through one of the windows at that same moment. Minty knee-length shorts, a pale pink shirt overlaid with a floral blazer, loafers and an impeccable white straw hat--the man's getup had halted Kevin in his steps. Unable to stop staring, the boy had nearly snickered but, fortunately, managed to stop himself before doing anything regrettable.

As for the new arrival, an older white gentleman somewhere in his seventies or sixties, he'd been good-natured enough.

"Afternoon, Mr Lawson." The desk woman had risen upon seeing him, her affect spinning a one-eighty.

The so-called Mr. Lawson had glanced at Kevin, surely realized he didn't belong. "What's the problem here, Marianne?"

"No problem, Mr Lawson. This young person was just leaving."

"Is that right? Are you in need of help, son?"

"Oh . . . I--I'm--" Why Kevin had found himself stuttering was still a mystery to him. He'd figured the sheer absurdity of the clothing had put him off.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Was he? The question had hung in his head, and yet he'd known it wasn't what he was there for. Straightening, he'd gathered some self-confidence. "They hired me to work in the dining hall," he'd said. "I filled out the application; they said I was hired. But then nobody told me about the training."