7. Char
CHAR
I sniffled as I tugged at my eyes with my knuckles.
“It doesn’t matter, though. I guess. None of it matters.
It still ruined my life. I still had to run.
And no one will hire me, you know they won’t.
I don’t even have a fucking GED. No one gives a shit about people who don’t even have a fucking GED. ”
I pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off the oncoming headache.
“God, I wish you were here, Mom,” I whispered.
Then, a voice came alive in my ear as I held my cell against my face. “To repeat this message, press one. To send this message, press two.”
“Fuck!” I exclaimed.
I hung up the phone and immediately dialed back. I wasn’t done. I wasn’t ready. I had to get it out. I had to talk. So, I pressed redial and listened to the incessant ringing.
The ringing that would never be answered again.
“Hi there! You’ve reached the voice mailbox of Diana Lancaster. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name, number, and a brief message after the tone, I’ll see what I can do after I figure out whether or not I want to listen to it.”
I snickered as a beep rang out in my ear, but it didn’t stop my heart from breaking as I drew in a deep breath.
“Anyway,” I said breathlessly, “stupid answering machine, always cutting me off. I just—why is this happening to me, Mom? Why does this always happen? Why do I always have to start over? I don’t get it.”
Silence filled the other end of the line where she would have usually responded, and the silence made me nauseous.
“God, I wish you were here,” I whispered into the phone.
My arm went limp, dropping my clutched cell into my lap.
I hung up the phone, reminding myself of how alone I had become.
No one to turn to. No one to talk to. No one to look after me, or take care of me, or protect me.
Hearing my mother’s voice was the only thing that brought me any peace or solace any longer in life, but even talking to her answering machine in that moment wasn’t giving me what I needed.
What the hell did I need, anyway?
A new life, that’s what.
Still, the thought alone pulled me upright. Maybe that’s what this was. Maybe it sucked then, but wouldn’t suck later. Maybe those assholes in the bar would fire me, and then I could go build the life I had always wanted. Find a nice man. Settle down. Have a kid or two.
Okay, maybe no kids, but definitely a nice man who makes money for himself who wouldn’t mind a wife that only works part-time doing some strange hobby. You know, like making wreaths or silicone dildos for fancy housewives.
I stood there, clutching my phone as I fought the urge to throw it.
I wanted to. I wanted to listen to it shatter, like my heart had so many times throughout my life.
But, I didn’t have the funds to replace it once it broke.
So, defeated and unfulfilled, I turned back toward my front door and walked up the couple of steps to the top.
While I tried to regale myself with what the hell had just happened down in the bar with Miss Lilly.
As I walked inside and closed the door with my back, I couldn’t shake something rising up within my gut.
Something about my boss’s demeanor during that meeting didn’t sit right with me.
Even when she first pulled me aside a week or so ago, there seemed to be an air of familiarity to the entire situation.
Like she knew it had been coming, or something.
“No, can’t be,” I muttered as I walked over to my couch.
I flopped down against the second-hand cushions and ripped a blanket off its arm and into my lap.
I curled my legs up onto the couch, tucking them in as I spread the blanket over my body.
Something was wrong. Something more than what Miss Lilly was telling everyone downstairs, and I couldn’t help wondering if I stood a chance of helping her.
Bottle Grounds had been Miss Lilly’s retirement plan.
She ranted and raved about it every second she could.
How she’d retire and live off its revenue for the rest of her days.
How she’d take tropical trips and send us pictures just so we could be jealous.
She lived that dream. Breathed it in, on her bad days.
Something was off.
And I hadn’t felt that way since my father stumbled home and Mom threw herself in front of me so that she could take the beating.
Things are about to change forever.
I swallowed hard as a lead weight settled in my gut.
Everything felt too familiar. Too much like my childhood.
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath.
I allowed the breath to fill my lungs, expanding them out as far as they could go.
My chest heaved. My back straightened. I heard a few pops and groans from my joints that had grown up much too quickly in the life I had led.
I cracked my neck as I tried settling my mind.
Something nagged at the base of my skull, as if an idea were trying to penetrate some invisible barrier that attempted to protect me.
The weighted feeling grew worse, weighing my stomach down into my toes.
It overwhelmed me, like ocean waves barreling over an unsuspecting diver’s head.
It threatened to drown me. It threatened to pull me under, just like my father did all those years ago.
And just like I didn’t stand for his nonsense, I wouldn’t stand for this.
I had to pull myself together. I had to save myself, yet again.
Because who the hell was going to do it for me?
Certainly not anyone downstairs.
So, I reached for my laptop on the coffee table in front of me, opened the screen, and typed in my password.
“Time to fix up my resume,” I muttered to myself.