Jessica's Bubbles (1st Draft)

December 09, 2007

I'm going to call her Jessica because I forget her name. Jessica is bubbly. She smiles often. She's built pretty small at about 5'3“ or 5'4“ and probably around 110 or 115 lbs. She has long blond hair that shoots straight from her scalp to her lower back. I worked with her at a direct marketing firm in Salt Lake City. At eight in the morning, while fighting a case of the a.m. groggys, her bubbly, smiley, lemons into lemonade personality is both well intentioned and accosting. This is a story about Jessica.

Me and Jessica and another girl from the office, (lets call her Amy), all went on a 'business' trip to some county somewhere in Utah. Here is why I used the quotes on 'business': we all pile into a (highly) used car with a bunch of coupon-books, drive to another county, and walk door to door selling said coupons for $20 a book. We make $7 a book on the deal if my memory serves. A good day means $80 to $100 profit per person, and a bad day means $20. After gas, food, and hotel – the amount of actual profit adds up, approximately, to what I would call 'business'. After a long cold Utah winter day of walking door to door and pitching coupon books, we go to a hotel, and get a room with two beds. I get a bed to myself, lucky me. Amy, is on the phone with her boyfriend, who is a partial owner of the marketing firm. She is on the phone with him often, they live together. Jessica also has a boyfriend, but she is not on the phone with him. She is being exceptionally bubbly for a $30 day after all expenses are said and done.

Me and Jessica drive to the store to buy a six-pack, and then return to the hotel. It's still cold outside. Motion light plays on the curtain of our hotel room, and Amy is finally off the phone - she has settled back into some mediocre evening television programming. Me and Jessica start talking – we're both sitting on my bed. This is where the story gets interesting. We talk about work, and life. I have been with my girlfriend for about a year and a half, Jessica says thats sweet. She says that she has been with her boyfriend for about that long, and that they live together. I tell her that I live with my girlfriend as well. Lets move to dialogue. I say “So how old is your boyfriend anyway?“ Jessicas eyes dart from one eye-corner to another, and she comes back with “Seventy Si-- I mean, twenty four.“ She looks sheepish. I'm loud and animated when I speak - “Seventy? What!? What's that all about ?“ She still looks sheepish. I have in a previous conversation told her that I was in the US Army for a little while. That's important to the story. She looks less sheepish and suddenly relieved. “You were in the Army for a little while right?“ “Right.“ She continues, even more at ease. “Well you know that aging drug thingy that they give the soldiers?“ Jessicas bubbles are still spilling about – only now they are stretching thin and nervous in her smile. This is just conjecture – but it seems like it is very important to her that I know what she's talking about right now. “What? No. That's crazy! Never heard of it.“ Her nerves and her sheepishness come flooding back in one swift movement. She sounds a bit nervous and a bit defensive now, but still happy and still making lemonade. “Well anyway, in the military they give you this aging drug, you know, if you're like, really important. That way they can keep using you because you don't get any older... I don't think I'm supposed to be telling you, but I thought since you were in the army -“ I cut her off smiling and conversational - “That can't be right, Jessica. There's no such thing. What branch was he in? Like you know, Army, Navy, Marines...“ “Marines“ she says with the enthusiasm of someone who knows they have the right answer. “What was his rank?“ I'm trying to get to the bottom of this. “He was first – or second maybe.“ Jessica started this sentence with that same enthusiasm, but as she absorbed my facial response, she turned back into sheepish, nervously bubbly Jessica. I mock confusion, while maintaining an engaging and still light and conversational composure. “First or second Lieutenant? Or like and E1 or E2?“ Still smiling broad. She comes back with her enthusiasm anew, “No, you know, like first or second best. He was a sniper in Vietnam – he was good, like really good, thats why they gave him that aging drug thingy.“

Tags for this piece: story nonfiction slc sales military

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