Ora is broke, burned out, and stuck. But when her friend Sally challenges her to name five things that still bring her joy, a lifeline unexpectedly forms — and a small plan to change everything begins.
The early afternoon sun was brutal, fading the colors of the world into flattened versions of themselves. Ora and Sally sat at a battered red picnic table next to Grillo’s Subs, its peeling paint sticking slightly to the underside of Ora’s forearms. The heavy scent of vinegar and hot asphalt hung in the air.
“It’s like life just sucks so effing hard,” Ora said, wrapping up her 20 minute tirade on the constant woes of her existence.
“Come on,” Sally encouraged, yet again. “It can’t be all bad.” Her friend did have a usual snark, but there was an unusual slump to it today.
“It feels like I’m constantly being flushed down the toilet.”
Looking up from her sandwich, Sally’s brow furrowed behind her sunglasses. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
Ora continued quickly. “Like I’m trying to breathe, trying to see, trying to swim my way out, but the strength of the whirlpool keeps just pushing against me. Keeping me there. In the damn toilet.”
Sally took a sip from her sweating, waxed cup and swallowed. “Do you think you need to see someone?”
“Like?” Ora replied in a bored voice.
“Like a psychiatrist?”
Ora spat a quick, sharp laugh. “Yeah, I’ll just dip into my mental health fund,” she said, flicking a tiny onion slice left on the otherwise empty wrapper. She gave Sally a leveled look. “I had to return cans for grocery money this week.”
A delivery truck rattled by in the background. The roar of its engine briefly drowned them out.
“So,” Sally leaned in, elbows on the table, chin in hand. “What are you going to do then?”
“Just keep getting flushed, I guess.” Ora balled the wrapper and tossed it back in the bag. “Thanks for lunch.”
“Wait,” Sally said, the idea coming to her in that moment. “Five things.”
“What?” Ora replied.
“Five things. List them. Five things in your life that make you happy.”
Another quick laugh, this time with an eye roll. “It’s not… I was… Just forget it,”
“No. Five things. Five words, even. Five words of things that make you happy,” Sally persisted, resting her cheek on her hand, unfazed.
Ora peered at her. “Alright.” A pause. Too long of a pause.
“Anytime,” Sally prompted, a hint of a smile on her lips.
“I’m actually thinking. I can’t come up with five.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Ok, um… my cat.”
Sally held up one finger, nodding.
“Oh, sleeping.”
Fake answer, but no arguments. Two fingers.
“Wine,” Ora said dreamily. “Wine makes me happy. It truly makes me sad that I can’t afford to drink more often than I do.”
It was Sally’s turn to pop a laugh. There was some of that usual snark. Third finger.
“I like cooking,” she said, sounding like she surprised even herself.
Sally raised her brows. At least that one was legit. Pinky up.
“Ah… I… jeez, I think I only have four….,”
Sally just sat patiently with her elbow propped on the table, four fingers still up, gaze steady.
“Um….aaah…. the Food Network? My most looked forward to moment is coming home from work, popping open a box of wine, hanging out with my cat and watching the Food Network.”
“Ok. That works for now,” Sally said. “Now how about five things you don’t like about your life?”
“That’s easy, my job times 5.”
Sally held up one finger.
“Okay, still easy. My job, my apartment, everything in my apartment…”
Sally held up two fingers and shook her head, declining the answer with a small smirk.
“Ok, job, apartment…commuting to my job,” Ora poked out her lip and cocked her head for approval.
Sally held up three fingers.
“The whole not having the time or money to drink more thing.”
Sally smiled. Four fingers.
“And… my relationship with my family.”
“You’d rather be closer with them?” Sally asked.
“No, I’d rather not feel the responsibility to have to be closer with them. I’d rather be free of them. Not think about them. Not think about what shitty shit we’ve all done to one another. And then have to get dragged back into the shitty shit when someone fucks up, yet again.”
Sally exhaled, poked out her thumb to complete the five count and let her hand fall to the table with a soft smack. “I wish I could help you with that.”
Ora pursed her lips and nodded at the ground. A bike zipped past on the sidewalk behind her, breaking the moment for a heartbeat.
“But I think I can help with a couple of those. If you’re willing to let me.”
Ora raised her head, skeptical but alert and peered at her friend.
“Let me find you a job. A better job.”
The interest that flickered across Ora’s expression faded before it could land.
“I mean, it can’t be easy to apply for jobs when you’re getting flushed down the toilet all the time,” Sally reasoned. “Send me your resume and I’ll do all the searching, replying, blah, blah, blah, until you get a real interview and then, you take it from there.”
Still unconvinced, Ora’s expression remained skeptical, so Sally continued. “What could be the harm? It’s not like you have to take whatever job calls you back. I think it’s a great idea! It should be a job in itself actually… a professional… job finder.”
“I think rich people do that. They get headhunted. Retail workers don’t have that. They just get shit on.”
“Ok then, let’s do it! I’ll apply for jobs I think you’d like, customize the cover letters, correspond with them, etc. You do nothing or know nothing until I get you an interview. And, when that time comes, you can even turn down the interview if you don’t like the job. It happens all the time. Deal?”
Ora shrugged. “If you wanna spend the time, I guess…,”
“Well, I thought of a way you could repay my kindness,” Sally smiled, leaning back with a glint in her eye.
Ora’s brows contracted again.
“By cooking us dinner once a week. You said cooking makes you happy. You pick the menu and I’ll bring the stuff to make it to your place. We can even review the jobs I applied for so I get a better idea of what you’d like, if you want, and have a nice meal.”
Ora still looked unconvinced.
“I’ll bring wine,” Sally tempted.
“Deal!” Ora shouted quickly.
Sally leaned forward again with a light laugh, finishing the last bite of her sandwich. Across the table, Ora smiled genuinely for the first time that day — tired, yes, but at least not hopeless. And, also for the first time in a while, she didn’t dread going back to work after lunch. Knowing she might not be there too much longer, made actually being there slightly more bearable.
It wasn’t an escape — but it was a paddle. And for now, that was enough to keep her head above water.