It proved to me in a very visceral way that you couldn’t judge someone based upon looks and what they projected to the world. I’d felt icy fear around white-collared business people, and I’d felt peaceful and happy around what most considered the dregs of society. It didn’t matter your skin color, the money in your bank account, where you lived, or what you did for a living. There were good and bad people in all walks of life, and in every imaginable circumstance. Most people seemed to fall between the two extremes.
I stiffened my shaky knees and walked up three flights of stairs to my apartment. I let myself in, and flicked the light switch closest to the door, fear still surging through me, making me compulsively check every nook and cranny of my tiny apartment for some crazy person intent on murdering me in my sleep.
I wanted to collapse on my dilapidated sofa, but I quickly showered the diner smell off of me first, put on some fuzzy pajamas, and made some ramen before I sat down. I huddled under a blanket and slurped my noodles, watching a Disney movie on TV. Something light and happy that would help the feelings of the day to drain from me. I drank icy water from a water bottle and slumped into the cushions.
I couldn’t ever remember feeling this defeated. I was a good worker, but I seemed to be cursed with jobs. From my first job when I’d been a homeless sixteen, to this latest disaster at Happy’s, I’d had twenty-three jobs. Some I’d left on my own because I’d been really uncomfortable with an employee or boss there, but most I’d lost because of circumstances similar to tonight.
It was like I was a magnet for disaster. It made me feel like no matter where I went or what I did, I couldn’t get ahead. Something would happen, and life would shove me down the stairs again, kicking me as I fell.
I didn’t believe in the supernatural, but I didn’t disbelieve either. And some of those lost jobs...they’d seemed unnatural. There were occasionally people that I came across that felt different to me. And the strange thing was, they seemed to notice me as well. To be honest, it freaked me out that they seemed to see me clearly, when to me they were more murky. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. I relied on my sense of people. It had saved my life on more than one occasion. It bugged me that there were people out there that I couldn’t get a good sense of. They were complete mysteries.
I fell asleep with this on my mind and woke to pounding on my door. The pounding at my door had a certain sound of doom to it. I knew who was at the door, and I knew what he wanted.
My super, Lando wanted the rent money. The problem was that I didn’t have it. I wasn’t usually late on rent, but I’d had a last payment for my tuition, and I couldn’t graduate without being fully paid up.
Perhaps if I ignored him long enough, he wouldn’t pitch me out into the streets.
Making a faint noise of disgust at my thoughts, I rose from my dilapidated couch, drew in a big breath for courage, and flung open the door.
Lando had an unamused expression on his pinched, scowling face. His beady eyes looked carrion bird-ish, and it made me hold in an inappropriate snort at my doomsday thoughts.
“Rent money.”
“I’m sorry, Lando, but I don’t have all of it right now. I’ll have it to you by the end of the week.” Somehow. I might have to find some under-the-table work for a few days to scrounge together the remaining two-hundred dollars. I dug into my purse for my wallet and handed him what I had. “This is all I have so far. IpromiseI’ll get the rest to you this week.” I wanted to plead with him to be patient, but knew better, even before he opened his mouth.
He squinted and pursed his lips. “I’ve already listened to five sob stories this morning; yours will not make a difference. If I don’t have the rest by Friday, I’ll deadbolt your apartment and lock you out.”
Never mind that it was illegal to do that, and I should have had 30 days. It didn’t matter. Housing in Manhattan was terrible in the slum areas. And it was rarely overseen by the city.
I was so screwed.
I nodded and shut the door in his face. It was only mildly satisfying, which was a sad commentary on my life at the moment.
I snatched a bottle of water from the fridge and stood in front of the mirror in my hallway.
I sighed and pushed my wavy dark hair away from my face. It was long and thick and so hot in the summer that it was not uncommon for it to be slapped up in a messy bun all the time. I had pale skin that veered into the porcelain range, and what some had dubbed “creepy bronze eyes”.
Literally. They were bronze. That metallic looking brownish-goldenish-reddish color.
I actually liked them, but most people avoided my eyes like I was Medusa and would turn them to stone with one look.
Sometimes I wished I had that superpower.
I would totally use it judiciously.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Okay, probably not.
I sighed and plopped down onto my couch again to read the comics. Just because. I even had it in me to smile a little atDennis the Menace.
Such a cool kid.
A handful, yes. But awesome.
For the thousandth time, I wished I had a brother. Even if he drove me insane with his shenanigans, I just knew that I would treasure him.
