Not Here for a Sandwich

[Kaw7000]

Here’s a fact: I don’t like sandwiches.

But today, right now, I am in my local sandwich shop. A family-run place. Slightly run-down but known for some good food.

Why am I here if I am no big sandwich fan?

You’ll see.

Looking around, it’s clear things are a little slow. There’s an assembly line of four employees in their matching uniforms working on a bulk order of subs. Nobody is at the counter ordering. At the small cluster of tables against the wooden walls there sit just a grand total of five people: two older men, a younger guy, plus a mother and her daughter.

The mother and her daughter it is, then.

But I can’t be hasty, so I march up to the counter to place my order. I ask for a simple ham sandwich, no cheese. They make it within three minutes. And when it’s time for me to pay for it…well, I think $7.17 is just too much. So I don’t give them a cent, and the employee at the register (who just told me the price) simply nods and tells me to have a good day.

Now that I have a reason to actually sit down at a table myself, I pick the one closest to my targets. The mother, quietly munching on a tuna sandwich, looks to be in her 40s. Her chestnut hair was neatly pulled back into a loose bun, and her fair-skinned face had lines of experience etched into it. She still had a semblance of curviness underneath her simple, earth-toned blouse and comfortable denim jeans. The daughter, meanwhile, was definitely in her teens, and judging by her messy auburn ponytail and dirty red soccer uniform, was recently in a match. She had a cute face, and was pretty tall and athletic-looking. Her soft brown eyes were staring a hole into her cheesesteak, which she barely touched.

I mentally flip a coin to see who goes first. The mother is heads and daughter tails. It lands on tails.

Entering her mind is very simple, and once I’m in I get a ton of information. Alexandra Jean Porter. 17. Midfielder. Goes by Lexi. Lefty. Scorpio. Even bisexual, just hasn’t told anyone yet (she’s only “done it” with guys so far). But I really hone in on the soccer. Apparently she’s very good, good enough where she’s even got a few DII and DIII college offers. It’s always been her dream to play in college, just like her mother did.

How adorable.

The simple fix is to just make it so she never started playing soccer competitively: her parents now never signed her up for any youth sports. Immediately I’m looking at a different Alexandra: terrible posture, child-like pigtails, an acne-ridden face, and a much heavier body. Her uniform became a long shirt over a long skirt, as if to hide her body. Re-peering into her head, Alexandra now goes by her full name and is a total wallflower. She plays trumpet in the school band, but that’s about it. No friends, no passions, and certainly no boys or girls to screw around with.

One down.

To be continued!

[Kaw7000]

But not one to go.

With Alexandra's fate rewritten, the subtle ripples of change begin to reshape the mother. With a little digging, I find out her name is Susan Marie, who worked as a guidance counselor at a local high school, and she's now stripped of the enthusiastic support of her daughter's soccer dreams. Perhaps as a cause, her life shifts into the mold of a simple-minded housewife. Her once animated conversations about tournaments and college prospects now dissolve into mundane chatter about grocery lists and household chores.

The lines etched on her face deepen from the weight of domestic responsibilities that now define her existence. She does present better, with shinier hair and better makeup; she needs to look good for her man, after all. Her clothes reshape themselves into a modest dress, hardly constricting. Susan, in this version, has never put herself first, never pursued her dreams, and never made an effort. Once she settled down with her husband, it was babymaking and homemaking time.

My work here was done.