Normal Saturday
You were never the first choice. You were not the first choice in gym class, for partner work, for dodgeball on the playground, for prom date, for valedictorian, for dance partners in college, or for roommates. You were not the first choice for the program. You had the right qualification but you lacked the dedication to the work. Yet despite all this, you were on the list.
It was a normal Saturday. It was like every Saturday before it. As designated “not first choice” your friends were hanging out with other people. But that was okay. You liked hanging out in your apartment alone. It gave you time to work on things you love with the unhelpful assistance of your cat, Matchbox. On this normal Saturday, you had flowers spread out before you. Passion flower, Lavender, Rose, Damiana, Willow Bark, and more decorated your table as you meticulously picked out the good from the okay from the bad. What should be a mindless task inexplicably pulled at your heart. You weren’t left with much time to reflect on it. Stillness is just a preamble to chaos. It gives time for the fist to wind back before colliding with the wall.
“Matchbox!” You scolded the cat that had jumped on to the table sending the flowers scattered everywhere. “Fuck.” The breath left like the first marble in a rube goldberg machine- slowly, but determined to carry on the chain of events. Matchbox’s tail pushed more flowers off, you bent down to save them, encouraging the cat to jump off and push more down. Your oversized sweater covered your head as you avoided the pain that would be getting on your knees. You weren’t as young as you once were. Matchbox’s pupils, enamoured with how your hair floated around like prey, grew five times their size. The light turning every little thing, both existing and not, into a toy to bat around. The cat zoomed around the house, it’s eyes training on a shiny string poking out of a box on a shelf. The house was a mess, the potential for collateral damage exponential. Up the cat tree, across the top of the TV, on to the shelf, anything in the way be damned. However there was one thing your cat had not calculated. It was not thinking about the first law of motion. An object in motion stays in motion. Barrelling into the box and knocking it to the ground, the sound pulled you from your precious flowers. “Matchbox!” You scolded again, trying to reorientate your sweater as you moved to collect the contents.
“Hell..” You whispered, carding through the memories. The notebooks, the papers, the pictures.... Sitting back on your knees you couldn’t do anything but stare, even as the knock sounded on your door. “One moment.” Your voice was soft, but you shoved the work under a blanket as you moved to the door.
“Hello?” You greeted, quite confused with what you say before you. “Uh.. Captain America?” You asked, backing up. It wasn’t Steve Rogers. You were aware that they had named some new guy Captain America. He certainly didn’t seem as inspiring as the one you idolized growing up. “Am I in danger?” Why the hell would he be here?
“No.” He chuckled, stepping inside without invitation. “No you’re not. I’m here with a job offer for you.”
“Oh no thanks.” You replied before the man could even explain what it was.
“No thanks? You don’t even know what it is.” Walker frowned, taking a few more steps into the house. “I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you. You can continue your work, Ms.-”
“Stop right there. I’m not Ms. Whoever the Fuck you think I am. I don’t want your job offer. I have a job I like. I don’t want what you’re offering.” Turning your back on the man you went back to your flowers. “If that’s all your here for, please show yourself out with the same grace you showed youself into my house.”
Those were not the right words.You weren’t his first choice either.But he hadn’t combed through the list of names generated by Project Insight to be turned down. You should be fucking grateful he even thought the valdevictorian from Iowa City would be useul to him.
But willingly wasn’t the only way to get you to come with him.