The baby had started to cry again. I was trying to be patient, but it wasn't working very well. The manager was trying to comfort the crying infant, calm down the hysterical cashier, figure out why the power was out, and probably maintain her sanity. Feeling heroic, I stepped forward and offered assistance.
"Anything I can do to help?" I offered, figuring that I would probably play the hero by holding a flashlight or something for her while she messed around with the breakers. Instead, she shoved the screaming baby into my arms.
"Uh…" I began to protest, but she was off and running, apparently relieved to have the squalling child out of her arms. Looking down at the red and squished up face, I felt fear. I jiggled it in my arms a few times, and it stopped crying. I stood there, stiff so that it wouldn't start crying again for a few minutes, hoping that the manager would come back.
"Taylor, what's happening? All the lights of the street went out!" the cashier cried out.
"Laura, do you have any matches, or a lighter on you?" Taylor called out.
"No, I don't smoke!" she called back. Here, I could help with this, at least.
"I have a lighter," I called. Taylor came flying back out.
"Where?" she asked.
"In my pocket," I said, hoping that she would take the child out of my arms. Instead, she reached into my pants pocket and retrieved the lighter herself.
"Thanks," she said, dashing back behind the counter, disappearing into the kitchen.
"Uh…Laura, why don't you take…uh…the baby," I said, having reached my level of tolerance. I had never really been around babies before, and the whole idea of holding a smaller, fragile human being in my arms was intimidating. She smiled, and gathered the baby into her arms.
"Hey Libby, I haven't seen you in awhile," she cooed.
"I cannot believe this!" I heard Taylor yell from the back.
"Problems?" I asked, as she reappeared.
"This would only happen to me! Son of a bitch!" she cried.
"Taylor?" Laura asked timidly.
"Don't worry, there, Laura. The problem is with the main computer system. The damn thing did not reboot, which means I am completely fu - I am completely screwed," Taylor quickly corrected herself.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"Okay, this requires a little bit of background. Back in the day when the Y2K thing was a huge major concern, the people that run this little multinational company decided that they would install some anti-theft programs just in case we did loose power and people might try to break in, ecetera. So this program shuts down all exits when the power goes out. The problem, you ask? The only way to open the doors, which are like, electronically powered or something like that, is through the computer system. And the system is currently crashed, which means-"
"That we are stuck here until the power goes back on?" I asked, fearing the worse.
"Give the man a gold star, he's a genius!" Taylor cried out. The baby started to cry again.
"Libby, baby, don't cry!" Taylor pleaded, leaning over to look at her. Instantly, the baby was silent.
"So you mean to say that I am stuck here?" I asked.
"Uh-huh. Unless you have a cell phone that I can use?" she asked, suddenly hopeful. I slapped my pockets, hoping that it was there. But it wasn't. It was right where I left it. On passenger seat of my car. I shook my head.
"Happy frigging New Years to me," Taylor muttered.
"Taylor, I'm supposed to meet Jordan at eleven thirty!" Laura whined.
"Well, then maybe this is a good thing. That boy is a no good punk-ass jerk," Taylor declared.
"You don't even know him!" Laura protested.
"I fired him, Laura. He got fired from MacDonalds. How is that possible?" Taylor said back.
"You never did like him," Laura muttered. Sighing, I decided to distance myself from the bitter argument that was brewing. I walked over to a table by a window, and sat down. Wonder where you are right now, Caroline. Of course, it's New Years, so you're probably passed out, smashed at someone's party. You probably will miss the countdown - again. Sighing again, I tried to keep her out of my mind. I kicked her out, right? So why should I think about her?
I looked back over to the counter area, where the manager and the cashier were still locked in their argument.
"Happy New Years to me," I muttered.