Why Should I Be a Magical Girl? I'm Overworked As It Is! — Chapter 4: Leftovers
Carmen entered the break room and collapsed into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs.
The room was barely large enough for the small square table set up against the wall, the three chairs, an outdated microwave, and a coat rack that was shoved into a corner.
Hanging from it was a floral green sweater that read:
PLANT DREAMS, GROW A HAPPY LIFE
Carmen instantly knew it was Maya’s. She was obsessed with all things involving gardening, flowers, and plants—a certified plant hoe, and she was unbothered by the label. Maya liked to tell people that the pun was very much intended.
Maya walked in carrying a paper cup of water.
She held out her arm and said, “Look, look! Check out this battle scar. Kinda looks like a smiley face.”
A red burn mark was on her forearm.
Carmen squinted at it.
“It looks like Wisconsin.”
“Wow,” Maya said.
“Sorry.”
Maya inspected it.
“…No, wait. I kinda see Wisconsin.”
Carmen snorted. “Another trophy for your collection, huh? You’re the bravest fryer warrior I know.”
Maya flexed her bicep and struck a pose. “Someone has to battle the oil beasts.” She sat down and snapped her fingers. “Oh! That’s right. You texted me. Sorry I didn’t respond, I was already asleep. You said you had a weird night. Like super weird?”
Carmen groaned, “I was delirious.”
“Well don’t hold back. C’mon. Spill the beans!”
Carmen glanced at the closed door. The team lead had sent her here when the rush died down. The other workers were most likely cleaning up the dining room, emptying trashcans, checking the toilets, and restocking.
Then Carmen looked at Maya. “Okay. Yeah. There was a talking cat and a glowing wand.”
Maya gasped, hand covering her mouth dramatically. “A talking cat and a glowing wand?”
“Yes.”
“Like… A cat that talked?”
“No, Maya. A cat that filed taxes.”
Maya kicked her lightly under the table.
Carmen continued, “So, this cat showed up out of nowhere wearing a monocle—”
“A monocle?”
“Yes.”
“I’m already obsessed. Tell me more.”
“—and starts talking like it escaped from some rich British family’s estate. It tells me I’ve been ‘chosen’ to help save the world.”
Maya started uncontrollably laughing while pointing at Carmen.
“You?!” She said incredulously.
Carmen sighed, “I knew you’d do this.”
“Chosen?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know.”
Maya wiped the tears from her eyes. “Do you think you’ll get a transformation sequence?”
“I hope not.”
“You need one, especially if you have a magical wand.”
“I absolutely do not. Also, just because there is a wand, doesn't mean there has to be a transformation sequence.”
“I hope there are sparkles. Lots of them. You can’t NOT have sparkles. Oh, oh! And a cute outfit. Maybe a swishy skirt? Do you think it’ll be sailor style like in anime? I can almost picture you.”
“Maya.”
“What would your theme song be? Can I help you choose it?”
“I will leave.”
Maya dissolved into laughter again.
Carmen couldn’t help but smile. “Honestly, the wand was ridiculous. It was this ugly bubblegum pink, with glitter, and even the glow was an obnoxious pink. Like does my brain not know me? It couldn't come up with anything better? I’m not a pink person.”
“Maybe it was tailored to your customer service persona and was supposed to have been your secret weapon against unruly customers.”
Maya made a karate chop motion.
Carmen considered that. “Hm. Now there’s an idea.” She mimed holding a wand. “Sir, unfortunately breakfast ended at eleven.” She flicked her imaginary wand. “Die.”
Maya spat out her water; it came out of her nose too.
Carmen laughed and handed her a paper napkin from the dispenser. “Gross. Okay, maybe not die. Just…like be magically quiet.”
“That’s evil.”
“Peaceful evil though. And I’d get away with it too, because they’d just go poof. Off to sparkle world.”
Maya cleaned herself up and grinned. “But seriously, a talking cat?”
Carmen rubbed her face. “Not enough sleep. That’s my current medical self-diagnosis.”
Maya nodded sympathetically. “Sounds like you need time off more than a magic wand.”
“Tell me about it.”
Carmen checked the clock. There were two minutes left. “If I start having conversations with the cash register, I’m calling in sick.”
Maya raised her cup.
“I second that.”
The rest of Carmen’s shift felt like an eternity. She clocked out and grabbed her things. Maya was still behind the counter.
Maya said, “Bye! Enjoy your nap. Survive sushi!”
Carmen gave her a weak salute before heading outside.
Her second job smelled better, except for when she got close to the kitchen. Carmen couldn’t stand the fish. But the schedule was flexible and the chef would sneak her avocado and veggie rolls with soy paper. When there was an order mixup that didn’t involve fish, like teriyaki chicken, it went to Carmen. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it made her day. That was about the nicest thing she could say about working there.
Carmen spent the evening carrying trays between tables, picking up the phone when it rang, and taking orders.
“I have a party of twelve coming your way, Carmen!”
“Coming!”
As Carmen walked to the front, a customer asked, “Can we get extra spicy mayo?”
“Of course, I’ll bring it out in a bit.”
Another waved their hand frantically.
“This isn’t what I ordered.”
“I’m sorry, let me fix that.”
A toddler threw rice onto the floor.
His mother laughed.
“Oh, he does that.”
Carmen stared at the rice scattered under the table.
“Aw, that’s ok. Don’t worry about it. He’s so cute.”
It was not cute.
Later, someone left sixty-seven dollars on a sixty-five-dollar bill—a two-dollar tip. Carmen picked up the receipt. She stared at it.
“Wow.”
She folded it once.
“How will I ever spend all this?”
By the end of the night, her feet hurt. Her lower back hurt. Her shoulders hurt. Even her ponytail hurt.
She wiped down her final table, dropped the rag into the bucket, and leaned against the counter.
“Why is it impossible to live without having two jobs?”
Nobody answered because everybody else was also questioning their life choices.
It was well after eleven when Carmen finally reached her apartment. The restaurant had been calm until a large group of college students had decided to walk in an hour before closing for sake, rolls, and jalapeño crab bombs to celebrate their recent football game win. Everyone wanted separate bills at the end.
She climbed the stairs slowly, keys already in hand. She unlocked the door as quietly as possible to not wake up her neighbors. They were the type to file a noise complaint despite having a dog that barked all the time.
She reached for the light switch and flipped it on.
“AH!” Carmen screamed.
Sitting directly on her kitchen counter was Shuli.
The black-and-white cat still wore the monocle.
One of Carmen’s takeout containers had been ripped open. A piece of chicken hung halfway out of Shuli’s mouth.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The neighbor banged on the wall with a muffled “Hey! It’s late. Be quiet!”
They stared at each other.
Carmen’s eye twitched.
Shuli chewed.
Swallowed.
Then pointed one tiny paw at her accusingly.
“Where have you been? I have been waiting here the entire day!”
Carmen was too busy staring at the empty takeout container to respond. After a minute she looked at the cat. Then back at the container. Her face went completely blank.
Carmen’s bag hit the floor.
“You ate my leftovers.”