Chapter 5
Routine had me waking up at my usual time, even though I hadnothing to get up for.
Despite pleading through sobs of despair, Harry let me go with immediate effect. I was just still in my probation, another few days, and he would have had to give me two weeks’ notice.
It would have bought me a bit of time to find another job, but as it was, he didn’t have to give me any notice as per the contract I’d signed agreeing to the terms.
I couldn’t understand it. Harry appeared devastated to let me go,apologizing profusely, but telling me he didn’t have a choice in the matter. I wasn’t above begging, but it didn’t get me anywhere.
Finding the job at the diner had been my saving grace followingrejection after rejection, but Harry took a chance on me, a twenty-three-year-old who had never held a job before, and only had a high school education.
I hoped that my three months of working at the diner gave me enoughexperience for someone else to take a chance on me, and Harry had promised to give me a glowing reference.
When I walked out after Harry told me I was welcome back anytimefor a coffee and a chat, I was surprised to feel a pang of sadness rush through me; although I didn’t think it was from the fact I would miss the work, more like I’d miss the people.
I didn’t socialize with them outside of work, but in the time I’d been there,Michelle and Charlie had become friends, and Harry was like the older brother I never had. Then there was Paul, the grumpy chef who acted like any time someone ordered food it was an inconvenience for him, but always put his heart and soul into making delicious food.
I’d miss making small talk with some of the customers, hearing abouttheir day or their plans for the weekend. Even Trent, I’d miss seeing him. I guess the saving grace was that I wouldn’t have to put up with Trent asking me out every day.
It was too early to head to the local library to use their internet for jobhunting, so for the first time in weeks, I pulled out my sketchbook to kill some time.
In days gone by, I’d spend hours with pencils in my hand, not noticingthe cramps in my fingers or the rumbles in my belly. I’d be too focused on my designs, new ideas running through my brain all the time.
From a young age, I had an interest in fashion, and I knew that oneday, I wanted to have my own range of clothes. I used to drive my mom crazy, constantly cutting clothes up, only to sew them back together in different ways.
The more skilled I became at sewing and drawing, the moreelaborate my designs became, and my home economics teachers were always gushing with praise over my creations.
When I finished high school, I planned on going to college to studyfashion design. I’d been accepted to go to the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, but as it transpired, fate had other plans.
During my last year in high school, my mom got sick. At first, it startedwith her forgetting things, and getting easily confused. When she couldn’t remember where we kept the coffee for the billionth time, I convinced her to go to the doctor. She underwent a series of tests, and a few weeks later, we got the devastating news that she had dementia. After that, my plans changed, despite my mom insisting I should go to college.
My dad was killed in a car crash when I was three, and my momnever remarried or had any other children. I was her life, and she sacrificed so much to give me the best childhood. Sacrificing my career for a few years was the least I could do.
And so, while all my friends went off to college, I stayed put in our home in San Francisco to look after her.
We had a little money, thanks to my wealthy grandparents, and thelife insurance we had from my dad’s crash, allowing me to not have to work, and look after my mom full time.
In the short space of a few years, her dementia worsened. When Iwasn’t helping my mom to wash, dress, feed herself, and take her to various medical appointments, I’d lose myself in drawings as a way of switching off from the heartbreak of watching my mom wither away.
As much as it was just me having to look after my mom, I had Liam.He was my rock, my first love, my...everything. He wasn’t perfect, far from it, but who was?
He kept me going when life was at its hardest, and I never thoughtthere would be a time I wouldn’t have Liam by my side.
How wrong I’d been.
I stared at my sketchbook, trying to put my brain in gear and come upwith a design, but by the time the winter sun had risen, my page was still blank.
Since Liam turned my world upside down and left me to pick up thepieces, I hadn’t been able to draw anything. It was almost as if my creative juices had packed up and left when he did four months ago.
Maybe it was because no matter how hard I tried to switch off, Icouldn’t help but let myself be consumed with the worry of how the fuck I was going to dig myself out of the blackest hole Liam had left me in.
Giving up, I threw my pencil down with a heavy sigh and dragged mypathetic ass to the bathroom. The only way out of this mess was getting a new job, and to do that, I needed the internet.
Before I knew it, Mrs. Wade, the librarian who was as old as thebuilding itself, was telling me it was closing time. I’d spent the entire day applying for countless jobs, from waitress to museum curator. I wasn’t exactly qualified for half of the jobs I’d applied for, but I figured I had nothing to lose. You had to be in it to win it, right?
Saying goodbye to Mrs. Wade, and telling her I’d be back tomorrow, Iheaded out, ignoring my grumbling belly reminding me that I’d skipped lunch.
I’d walked to the library this morning, deciding the fresh air would dome good, as well as saving a few cents on the bus fare, and given that the new snowfall we’d been promised hadn’t fallen yet, I decided to walk home.
As I neared my apartment, I walked past a take-out place, and thedelicious aroma of fried chicken hit my nose. My mouth salivated, and my belly once again rumbled.
Take-out was a rarity for me; I couldn’t justify the expense. But feelingthe weight of the world on my shoulders, the craving for greasy, warm, comfort food took over, and before I knew it, I was pressed against the window, looking at the menu.
It was stupid to consider wasting precious money on take-out, butthere wasn’t a whole heap of food in my apartment, none that seemed appetizing anyway, and the thought of tasting the fried food made me feel a smidgeon better.
Deciding to treat myself to a piece of chicken and some fries, Icrossed the road and headed to the ATM to withdraw some cash. Before I could talk myself out of the impulsive decision, I put my card in, entered my pin, and selected the button to withdraw $10.
To my annoyance, a message flashed up on the screen telling me mycard had been declined before said card was spat back out. Figuring there was a problem with the machine, I put my card back in, re-entered the pin, and again, selected the option to withdraw $10.
A second later, the same message flashed up, and my card wasviciously spat out.
My brows pulled together in a frown. I only wanted a bit of chicken,for fuck sake. It was just my luck that the damn machine would be broken. I knew I had $78 left in my account because I budgeted for every cent I had to my name, so it wasn’t that my account was empty.
Hoping for third time lucky, I inserted my card and again typed mypin. Only this time, before selecting the ‘withdraw cash’ option, I selected the ‘check balance’ option, just in case.
My heart sank at the balance displayed on the screen. Not only wasmy account empty, but I was overdrawn by $300.
What the hell?
I racked my brain, trying to think of where the fuck my money hadgone, and what could have possibly pushed me $300 overdrawn, but I couldn’t think straight thanks to the panic coursing through my body.
I was struggling to pay what I already owed, I couldn’t afford to getmyself in any more debt. This had to be a mistake.
Numbly, I ejected my card and walked home in a daze, going overevery recent transaction I’d made and my monthly outgoings, but by the time I reached my apartment, I was still none the wiser as to what had happened.
Had Liam somehow found a way to fuck me over some more fromwherever in the world he was?
Cursing under my breath at the thought that Liam was behind this, Iflung my front door open. As I stepped inside, an envelope crunched underneath my foot.
I reached down to pick it up, finding my name scrawled on the front.Dread began building within me as I tore the envelope open and pulled out the letter, instantly recognizing the scruffy writing as belonging to my landlord.
My eyes scanned over the words, and with every sentence I read, myheart thudded harder against my ribs, and despair seeped into my bones.
‘Unforeseen building work…must be rectified immediately...costly…no choice but to increase rent…an additional $100 per week, starting next week.’
My back slumped against the door as the letter fell from my hand,floating gently to the ground where it lay mocking me.
I was going to be homeless.