Ever since I started college last year in the fall, I’ve been a part-time barista to help my monthly payments, put gas in my car and food on my table, etc, etc.
I take about 5 classes a week and they usually end around 4:30 so my shifts at the cafe are always closing ones. 5-10 pm, 11 on Fridays, Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays, and every other weekend. It was a routine that I got used to and had always dreaded.
If you’ve ever worked a job for money and not for happiness you’d know the feeling, that looming sense of tension in the hours leading up to your shift and the satisfaction of getting to your car the night before a day off. That’s what I was itching for this night, it was a Friday in late October before a weekend I wasn’t scheduled and I was so ready for that break.
When I walked in that night, the bell that hung on the glass entrance door rang loudly in my ear, an awful sound that meant a customer had arrived. Any bell still irked me to this day. I looked around for customers before I clocked in, it was a big bookstore/cafe but I could usually get the look around before getting behind the counter.
I wove my way through the bookcases with my arms around my back tying my black apron over my stained black shirt for work and my ever more dirty black leggings. Got to love the barista fashion! By the time I fumbled with my name tag, attempting to pin it to my right boob, the name KATE tapped on it, I was in the HUMOR section. Humor was a small shelf, usually just guides on how to BE funny or biographies on people who thought they were and then it melted into the everlasting FICTION section. That’s when I saw the first human in the last 5 minutes.
The man was tall, balding with a thin tuff of white fuzz on the back of his head. His shirt was a faded red and his jeans were surely from the 90s. His long, slender neck was in a curve and bent down into the novel he held. The way he slid his boney finger over each page as he flipped through them was eerie. I must’ve stared for much longer than I thought because when my watch buzzed to remind me it was 5 o’clock, I swore under my breath and continued my trudge to the counter. I slowed my pace when I got closer to the man. He was backing up towards the shelf behind him.
“Excuse me,” I said to him, trying to wedge through. But whereever I went he got in the way, his head still in the book and turning pages.
It was already 5:02, I was officially late. So, with a frustrated sigh, I went around to the next aisle, walked through, and to the counter. There was a slight release of tension that now sat on my chest when I saw the only coworker I enjoyed closing with standing behind the counter. Marina was scrolling through her phone, must be a slow night, and her purple hair was knotted in a bun.
“Hey!” I announced to get her attention then immediately turned to one of the registers to punch in. I looked past it for a moment to see if that customer was still there but I didn’t see him. Good, leave.
I heard Marina drop her phone on the back counter and close in towards me.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. My head turned to her with a confused look.
“Why, what happened? Steven on a tirade again?” Steven was our horrid, 50-something, manager.
“No. I’m heading out.”
I dropped my arms from the machine that just dinged its approval of the clock-in.
“Whyyy, who else is coming in?” I said, the upset thick in my voice.
“No one, Kate. You’re closing alone. Steven couldn’t find anyone else.”
“I can’t close by myself, I won’t be out of here until 12. Marina, you have to stay.” As I pleaded with her, she slowly undid her apron and pulled it over her head.
“I’m really sorry. I can’t.”
And with that, she grabbed her phone and walked around the counter towards the door. I was heart wrenched as I watched her, betrayed, annoyed, watched. My eyes slowly shifted to the aisles of books on my left when I saw that same old man peering over the novel clenched so close to his face. When our eyes locked for a brief moment, his head dropped back unseen past the pages. My heart was in my throat and I had half the mind to leave.
A few hours into my shift later, there was a rush at around 6:45 that lasted until 8:30 and I was exhausted. Handling both registering for the cafe and bookstore and making drinks on a Friday night was practically torture, but I had long forgotten the weird man with the book.
It was 9 o’clock now and since only a few people paraded the aisles, I decided to start my closing duties a little early. I surveyed the clipboard to see what I could get away with now and decided on trash.
The one under the expresso machine was already brimming and threatening over-spill so I pulled up the double bagged trash, tied it, and dragged it along with me to the back room. There was a little circle window on the swinging door so don’t worry, I could see upcoming customers.
The back room already smelled like garbage and stale coffee. It had big steel shelves full of book over-stock and random stuffed animals in bags on the floor. I shuffled my way to the very back towards the trash bins when I felt a weird tingling sensation make its way up my spine. I looked over my shoulder at the rows of carts with stacks of books when the light above flickered. Not unusual, it was an old place but I couldn’t help the anxiety that crept up my neck. I turned my head again and that’s when I saw it. A face peered around one of the carts and shot back when it caught me looking. A scream escaped my lips and I dropped the bag of trash but my feet were glued to the floor.
“You can’t be back here!” I yelled without thinking. It must’ve been a kid, they moved so quickly I couldn’t tell. But I wasn’t hanging around to find out.
I left the bag where it was and ran through the swinging door. Two women stood at the register with concerned looks on their faces. I felt a little embarrassed, my face a beat red and my heart pounding in my chest. Walking towards the ladies, I held up an ‘I’ll be with you in just one-second’ finger and smiled at them before grabbing my phone from the back counter and ringing Steven.
“Pick up, pick up,” I whispered to the dial tone, my fingernail wedged between my teeth. My pulse still hadn’t subsided and my vision was blurry.
“Hello?”
“Steven! Hi, it’s Kate.”
There was a moment of silence on the other line, I pulled back my phone to see if the call had disconnected but it hadn’t.
“Hello?” I said.
“Yes, Kate, what is it?” He sounded upset, as he always did and I searched for what I would say. I’m not sure why I called him and not the cops, though that felt too official.
“I, um, I saw someone in the back room. I’m here alone, I didn’t know what to do.”
I heard him sigh and that only made the paranoia worse.
“A customer?”
“Yeah, I think so. I didn’t get a good look.”
“You’re sure you saw a person?”
I was starting to feel frustration buzzing in my head.
“Yes. I’m sure. I mean, I think so.” I paused, looked back at the now-growing line of customers, and threw them a smile. “I’m not sure.”
Another sigh.
“Ok, Kate. I’ll keep an eye on the cameras from home but I’m sure you will be fine. Have a nice-”
“There’s really no one that can come in to help?”
“Nope. No one, Kate.”
“You can’t?”
This time, the sigh was so loud, I thought I could feel it through the phone.
“No. I can’t. I’ll watch the cameras. Have a nice night.” The beeping from being hung up on followed that and I felt a squeeze of panic in my chest. I was alone in this.
After avoiding the back for the rest of the night and shuffling through the rest of the customers, the time had come. 10:58 and not a single customer was in sight. My checklist was nearly complete, the machines were off and cleaned, the counters wiped down and the pastries either wrapped or on the counter waiting to be put into the fridge. Which was in the back room.
I closed out the register, counted the money, and stuffed it into a yellow envelope to be locked into the office safe. Again, in the back. Then grabbed the keys from beneath the cash tray. I started to walk around the counter and towards the door when a bell stopped me in my tracks.
“We’re closed,” I yelled out, trying to look around the bookshelves for any sign of life. When I got no response, that familiar panic heartbeat started up again.
“Hello?” I said again, not as loud this time. There was fear evident in my voice. “I have to lock the door.” My voice was so weak and pathetic that if I was being robbed, I practically deserved it.
I walked closer to the door with slow, reluctant steps. The keys that hung from my fingers jingled while I walked but I was sure my heart was louder. Light from the street lamp outside radiated through the glass entrance door and I looked around for anyone. Maybe the wind pushed the door open and set the bell off. That must be it. I sped and walked closer to the door but stopped once more when my phone buzzed in my apron pocket. It was a text from Steven.
GET OUT. It said.
My blood ran cold, my legs felt like jelly and I couldn’t move. My head whipped around, most of the bookstore was dark after I turned the main lights off. Shelves were swallowed in the black and I stared hard into it but saw nothing. Another buzz in my hand this time.
ON THE CAMERAS. GET OUT NOW!
This time, when I looked up into the darkness that the same man from earlier stood next to one of the aisles. There was no novel in his hand this time and he looked straight at me. His eyes were wide, arms stretched out long to his sides and a wide smile plastered on his face.
My heart dropped to my stomach and the second I started to move towards the door, so did he. The man began to full-on sprint towards me with the smile still on his face. I screamed and I ran to the door to pull it open.
He grabbed my arm, his head looming towards mine. The skin of his face cracked and wrinkled, that smile so wide with teeth yellow and rotting. I ripped my arm from him, yelling out all the while for him to get off me and I managed to slip through the glass door.
I knew he’d just come after me, the sky was so dark and there was no one around. I dropped my phone on the concrete sidewalk and forced the door closed. He pulled on it from inside the store but with shaking fingers I pushed the key into the lock and turned it. Once I heard the satisfying click, I grabbed my phone and backed away.
He stared at me through the glass door, that smile only growing wider. His stiff, right arm began to move slowly and I couldn’t help but watch what he was doing. It was my chance to run, to drive home but I was stuck. His hand slipped into his jean pocket and pulled out the last thing I was expecting.
A silver, sparkly keychain full of gummy bear charms, the keys to my car and my house.