Joe’s eyes narrow at me and he says more firmly, “Go. Before I throw you out.”
I pout at Joe but it doesn’t sway him. He just shakes his head and frowns some more. He’s not going to budge.
I’m angry. I can feel angry tears prickling my eyes so I turn around before they leak out. I know he’s really trying to be nice. He probably even thinks he’s doing me a favor. What employee, especially a young college girl like me, doesn’t want an extra night off?
I yank open my locker and grab my backpack. I slip the straps over my shoulders and slam the door of my locker shut to let some of my steam out. It helps, a little.
The sto
re is a blurry mess of bright lights and faceless customers as I rush through the aisles. It’s a wonder I don’t crash into anyone.
I push through the front doors and once the night air hits my face, I start to cool down. It will be okay, I’ll figure this out, I reassure myself. To save on bus fare I decide to walk home.
Half way home I’m cooled down enough to lift my phone to my ear and give Ethan a call. The phone rings and rings, eventually going to voicemail.
“Hey, Ethan. It’s me, Avery,” I say after the beep. “I’m feeling so much better now. My head doesn’t hurt at all. I tried to work tonight but Joe said you pulled me off the schedule. Can you give me a call back and put me back on? Thanks. Talk to you later.”
I disconnect the call then check my phone. It’s still early. I’ve probably got at least a couple of hours to kill.
My phone buzzes just as I reach my front door. I don’t even finish unlocking my door before my eager eyes glance down.
It’s a text from Ethan.
Ethan: Hey, Ave. Can’t talk. You’re off for the week. Feel better.
What?! I’m off for the week? My heart races with panic. That can’t happen. I have to work. My fingers fly across my phone.
Me: Sorry if I wasn’t clear. My mistake. I need to work. Please put me back on the schedule?
Ethan doesn’t answer right away. I stare really, really hard at my phone.
The little message pops up that he’s typing a response then it stops. It keeps starting up and stopping. I realize while I’m waiting on him, I’m standing in my hallway like a jackass with my keys still in the door.
Never taking my eyes off my screen, I finish unlocking my door and push it open. Just as the door closes behind me, Ethan texts me back.
Ethan: Just checked with Joe. He’s already covered your slots. Hit me up tomorrow night, we’ll hang out.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I seriously doubt the rest of the week is paid time off. I’m so fucked.
My fingers start moving across the phone, typing up a response. I type up message after message, but ultimately they all seem too needy, too pathetic after I read them back to myself so I just end up deleting them all.
Ethan knows I need money, he has to know. That’s why he gave me the job! But does he understand I need the money? Does he really? It’s always felt like we’ve existed in two different worlds.
Sebastian appears, slinking out of my bedroom. He twines himself around my ankles and peers up at me with a hungry meow.
I sigh and reach down, scratching him behind his left ear. “It’s a little early for dinner.”
Sebastian appears to be uncaring. He meows louder.
“If you eat now,” I chide him. “You’ll only be hungry later.”
Sebastian pulls through my ankles and slinks into the kitchen. He stops in front of the cupboard where I keep his food. My phone buzzes.
I walk into the kitchen, open the cupboard and pull out a can. “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I open up the can for Sebastian and fill his bowl before I check my phone.
Ethan: Hey, I may have another job for you if you’re interested.