Lessons Learned
Shane Branson shook his head at the sleeping body of his second-to-least favorite coworker at Hollister, his place of work, Ethan Caple. As usual, Shane was working while Ethan lay out across the counter behind them, using a wadded up tshirt as a pillow.
Ordinarily, Shane would not have been bothered by his coworker’s slumber, but today was no ordinary day. Shane needed help, and that help would only come from Ethan.
Shane, with a burst of mischievous inspiration, grabbed a water bottle and abandoned his post. Once out of the store, he yelled, “Hey kid!!!” Several twelve-year-old boys turned to face him. Shane waved them over quickly.
One spoke quickly and squeakily, “My mom says to stay away from strangers.”
Shane smothered a snicker. “Yeah, when was the last time you did what your mom said?”
The boy frowned and his friends started to walk away.
“Wait!” Shane called. “I’ll pay you ten bucks to pour this on the guy sleeping in there,” he said, gesturing to the water bottle.
“Really?” Squeaky clarified.
“Really. And I’ll pay you five more to not tell him it was me.”
“Deal.” Squeaky grinned evilly.
I really hope I haven’t encouraged some budding psychopath, Shane mused as he handed Squeaky the water bottle and his pay.
Shane quickly turned to a display and started to neaten it. He spun around at the sound of Ethan’s disgruntled, “ARG!!!!!!”
“Get out of here!” Shane yelled, hiding his amusement. He winked as Squeaky, clutching his fifteen dollars tightly, ran past him. Shane walked quickly to the counter Ethan had lain on and picked up the near-empty bottle. “Kids these days…”
“Yeah, what was that?” Ethan asked in an indignant voice that made Shane feel almost guilty. Then Ethan pulled his shirt off and grabbed one off the display Shane had just fixed. He ripped off the tag quickly, somehow messing up the once-neat table even more.
“You know that is called stealing, right?” Shane frowned as Ethan put on the shirt.
“Meh. I’ll pay for it eventually.” Ethan shrugged. “Oh, wait this is a V-neck.” Ethan took it off and threw it to Shane. “You want this one?”
Shane’s frowned deepened as Ethan snagged a crew-neck off a neighboring table, wrecking yet another table. “Ethan, you’re two sizes larger than me.”
“Yeah, but you like those v-necks, right? Gabby says it’s ‘cause you’re like the world’s biggest hipster,” Ethan said, mentioning his girlfriend. Both Ethan and Gabby were in the I-can’t-stop-talking-about-them-for-five-minutes-phase, which was bugging the crap out of Shane. Although, he supposed, he and Ivy, the girl of his dreams, would enter that phase soon as well, at which point they would bother their friends to no end.
Shane mumbled, “I’m not a hipster.”
“See, Gabby says that if you deny being a hipster, you are a hipster.” No further explanation needed. “Sooooo… If you don’t need me anymore, I’m gonna go back to sleep.”
That was his moment. “Wait!” Shane exclaimed.
“Woah, freak out a little there, huh kiddo?” Another thing about Ethan that bothered his Calculus-loving counterpart to no end. He insisted on calling Shane “kiddo” far too often. Actually, ever using that moniker was “far too often.”
“Yeah, sorry.” He rubbed the back off his neck sheepishly. “It’s just, I need your help.”
“Hmm… As long as it’s nothing, like, with school, sure I can help.” Ethan shrugged. Something about Ethan that Shane liked. No “like” is too strong of a word. But, anyways, he always seemed to be willing to assist someone. Well, excluding helping Shane with work.
“I uh…” Shane’s face began to turn an interesting shade of pink.
“You’re blushing!” Ethan laughed. “Come on, it can’t be that bad! Just ask!”
Shane gathered every speck of courage in his thin frame. “I’m, uh, meeting Ivy’s parents tonight.”
“So you need help like, with first impressions? Gabby’s parents love me! Sure, I can help.” He grinned.
“Well, it’s not exactly the first impression I’m worried about. Just one aspect of it.”
“Oh, wear blue. Gabby says she thinks it says that you’re, like, a warm and caring person.”
“No, it’s not that!” Shane said frustratedly.
“What, then?” Ethan asked.
“Well, Ivy’s dad was a big football player in college. He played at UCLA and everything. Real manly guy.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be fine. What position did he play?”
Shane rubbed the back of his neck again. “Um…”
“Quarterback, halfback, lineman, kicker?”
“I don’t know… I know basically nothing about football.”
“Are you serious?!?” Ethan stared incredulously. “Nothing?”
“Think about how much you know about Star Trek.”
He nodded with understanding. “Ah, so abso-fruitly nothing.”
“Nothing,” Shane affirmed.
“So, you like never watched games with your dad or anything?”
Ethan’s question, as harmless as it was intended to be, hit Shane like a punch to the stomach. Oblivious, the former continued.
“That was like my whole childhood. Me and Dad had matching jerseys, still do, even. Me, Dad, and Vikings games was every Sunday in football season. You never watched any games?”
“No,” Shane answered sharply. Yet another annoying part of Ethan. His seemingly perfect family with loving parents, a doting sister, and dog that went on three-mile runs with him. All Shane got was a single mother and twelve cats. He loved his mom, sure, but she had some serious issues. Like the twelve felines that were constantly getting fur on everything in their house. Shane was just thankful that Ivy was a cat person.
“Oh, was your dad like a basketball kinda guy? Baseball? I mean, I guess golf is okay if that’s his thing.”
“Look,” Shane snapped, “maybe we would’ve watched the Vikings or Horses or whoever if my father hadn’t left when I was two months old, but he did. So I’m sorry I can’t quite comprehend this thing or all the rest of sports crap, but I didn’t have anyone around to force it on me.”
“Oh.” Thankfully, his tirade had made Ethan realize he’d struck a nerve. “Well, it’s never too late to learn, right?” he said with something like cheerfulness. “I mean, look at me, one girlfriend, not three. And I finished Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,” Ethan stated proudly. “It only took three months, even!”
“Uh, maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks.” Shane smiled weakly.
“So what tricks does this dog need to learn?” Ethan asked with a large grin.
“Just how to throw a football, I guess.”
“Alright, no problemo, kiddo!” Ethan pulled a football out from under the counter.
“Do you bring one of those everywhere you go?” Shane queried with some amount of disbelief.
“Do you bring a book everywhere you go?” Ethan shot back merrily.
“Point taken. So how do I do this?”
He walked over to Shane, tossing the ball between his two hands. “Alright, first thing is grip. Not too firm, not too loose. Just right is just right.”
“Okay, grip like Goldilocks.”
“Pa-new-monic device?” Ethan looked rather satisfied with his word usage.
“Yeah, uh, pneumonic. Helps me remember stuff.”
“Cool. Alright, now your gonna hold it so you make an ‘L’ shape with your thumb and first finger.” He demonstrated before handing the ball to Shane, who took hold of it uneasily.
“Turn so your shoulders are, like, parallel to wherever you wanna throw.” Shane moved accordingly, growing slightly more comfortable. “This part’s kinda weird to explain. When I taught Gabby how to throw, she said it has, like, sin-tri-pedal force or something.”
“Oh, centripetal effort! Okay.” Shane grinned, at least slightly in his element.
“Remember to move your weight to your front foot when you throw. You wanna try?” Before letting Shane answer, Ethan ran across the store, cluttering yet another table along the way. He waited, ready to catch whatever Shane threw.
Shane’s first attempt went about ten feet to left of Ethan, and the second, third, fourth, sixth, ninth, and fourteenth were even worse. But, on his fifteenth try, the ball soared gloriously into Ethan’s open arms.
“Yeah!” Shane yelled.
“NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!” Ethan roared, scaring a few people outside the store. “I knew you could do it, kiddo!”
They continued to throw the football for another hour or so, chatting easily about school, life, TV, girlfriends, music, and everything else. Ethan encouraged Shane and gave him tips on improving his throwing technique, and Shane explained some of the symbolism in Fahrenheit 451, which Ethan had a test in the next day.
Shane glanced nervously at his watch after throwing to Ethan.
“You can leave early, you know. I can manage this place until Brad comes in at five,” Ethan said.
Shane grimaced. “You’re working with Brad tonight? I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
“Yeah, the guy’s such a meathead. Even I have more of a brain than him. But I can hold down the fort. Get outta here kiddo.”
“Thanks,” he said, truly grateful. He grabbed his coat and began to head out the door, before Ethan stopped him.
“Wait!” Ethan called. “You gotta slap the doorway when you leave.” He ran over to the entrance and jumped, hitting the doorjamb. “Like that.”
“Why?” Shane asked, fairly puzzled.
“It’s what us football players do. You gotta do it too, know that you’re one of us.” Ethan smiled.
Shane nodded. He sprinted, slapping the top of the door as he jumped through the entrance.
“Go get ‘em tiger!!!” Shane heard Ethan yell.
As Shane drove to Ivy’s house, he wasn’t thinking about how nervous he was or how afraid he was that he father would be turned off by his lack of ubermanliness. Of course, those worries sat at the back of his mind, but, for the most part, he was mulling over his shift with Ethan. As he thought about Ethan teaching him and understanding his lack of knowledge in terms of football, Shane came to the conclusion that Ethan wasn’t his second-to-least favorite coworker. Not his favorite, but maybe close to it.
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