*** Featured on StoruesUndiscovered ***
A bittersweet story about a lover who never stayed and a love that never ended.
Disclaimer- This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the products of my imagination. Any resemblance is...
"Life's a bitch and then you die. That's why we get high, 'cause you never know when you're gonna go." Life's a bitch by Nas ft. AZ & Olu Dara. ⚠️TW - mention of alcoholism, death, poverty, and toxic household.
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Thursday, September 4th, 2014 (One year later)
6:55 AM
"Your total is $58.95. How would you like to pay?"
"Debit."
Smiling, I slid the machine toward the customer for better access. "You can insert the chip or swip-"
"Jesus, give me a second." The middle-aged man snapped as he continued to rummage through his wallet.
"Sure, whenever you're ready." My smile wavered, but I swallowed hard and nodded. Because that was what I had been doing for the past year. Smiling and nodding my way through life.
Time was a thief—the cruelest of burglars. I should know, I was a living witness... or a victim. It stole my dignity, robbed me of my youth, stripped me of my essence, and dimmed my smile. Time seized everything away from me.
"Here you go." I handed the man his bag of purchased items once his payment went through. "Your receipt is in the bag. Have a good day!"
He snatched his bag away from my hand and stomped out of the pharmacy. No "you too." No "thank you." Not even a glance. Plastering on another fake smile, I cleared my dry throat and greeted the next customer—my last customer of the day. "Good morning." I said while I scanned the box of tampons.
The absence of a reply didn't bruise my ego. I was used to it. I was used to so many things. I was used to standing, scanning, and smiling for ten hours straight. I was used to the permanent dark circles under my eyes. I was used to not getting my way. I was used to letting life pass me by.
"Have a good one!" I feigned a smile as I handed her the bag and closed my cash register. I wasn't in a hurry to clock out and get on with the rest of my day. As bad as life was at work, it was even worse outside, and the worst inside the house I lived in. The place of my employment, aside from bi-weekly paychecks, also offered sanctuary. Any port in a storm.
I tried to take advantage of the shelter my work provided by making myself as busy as I could. I worked for an average of sixteen hours a day. Ten at my full-time job, six at my part-time job, and I was always the go-to girl when an employee called in sick.
The clock didn't stop ticking, and time didn't stand still. It never did when you desperately needed it to, anyway.Regardless of my urgency... or lack thereof, 7 AM came, and I was forced to face reality.
"Hey, sweetie." Martha, my 50-year-old co-worker, and neighbor stood beside me. "Time to go home. Lucky you." She covered her yawn with the back of her hand.
"Lucky me!" my voice lacked enthusiasm.
Wincing, she ran her hand through my hair and gave me a knowing smile. She was my next-door neighbor. Her house was right next to mine, the walls were paper thin, she heard everything.
