Page 19 of Hearts at War

After the hour-long chat with her, I couldn’t help but feel like my spirits were lifted. If I didn’t get the job, I’d be shocked, that was how well the interview went. While I got my associate’s in PR, I had taken enough courses in office administration to be a critical helper in any office setting. Or rather, I would be until AI handled the majority of all office work.

Riding the high of confidence that this interview instilled in me, I walked out of the bank feeling a little lighter. Getting this job would be a good stroke of fortune, and I was in dire need of that lately.

It wouldn’t be a position to elevate me or advance my career, but that was okay. Most days, it wouldn’t even be a challenge. My tasks would likely feel like busywork, but I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t be choosy. The bank was small, and Janelle assured me I wouldn’t be expected to perform any teller services and “handle the front lines of customer service.”

Whew.

I could handle this job and still have time for another part-time gig, too.

Determined to believe that things had to be looking up, I treated myself to eating at the diner. While I wanted to mind my own business and keep to myself, it was a good change of pace not to sequester myself in the cabin. I didn’t mind making my own simple meals. In fact, after all I endured with David in Chicago, it felt so wonderfully normal, like a rare blessing, to have the freedom to choose my food pickings and prepare it how I wanted to.

Today, after meeting Janelle and having that interview, I wanted to “celebrate,” if a supposedly homecooked club sandwich and side of sweet potato fries could be considered a celebratory meal. I’d bet my salary they bought this stuff frozen anyway.

It was good, but my appetite waned with other customers looking my way. This was sort of like my first public outing. Not too many people had been out the day I arrived and discovered Jerry’s apartment broken into. Then again, my stop at the food mart would have spread the news that I was back. Ashley didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. When she, of all people, came in to sit with a couple of other women I recognized from high school, I internally groaned and slid my phone over to distract myself from her stares from across the diner.

My banking app was the last thing I’d gone to, so I resumed checking over the dismal facts there again.

David had depleted my savings. And my credit was a horror story I wanted to live down and never think of again. Sadly, it would be up to no one but myself to shore up a savings and get back on my feet. Doing some quick calculations with the proposed wage Janelle mentioned had me feeling slightly optimistic, but I knew better than to let my hopes get up high.

If only I’d never met him at all...

I learned at a young age that playing any variation of a what-if game seldom had benefits. It was a waste of creative energy, imagining alternative outcomes to what had already passed.

Yet, it was all too addicting to wonder and daydream.

If I’d never met David, I wouldn’t be in this position, nearly penniless, hopeless, and loveless.

If I’d never left Burton in the first place, I never would have been near that corner on the sidewalk where I first encountered David.

No. I’m not going there. I couldn’t regret leaving Burton when I had. My big move out of town hadn’t lasted long, but it wasn’t as though I could have predicted the problems that would fall in my lap.

“Still here?” Ashley asked.

She hadn’t come near me the whole time I finished my food and tucked away the leftovers for dinner. It was way too big of a portion for one person, especially someone with an iffy appetite like me. Stress was such a fickle bitch like that, wrecking the body in so many ways.

“Yep.”

Obviously I’m still here. Or can’ t you trust your own eyes?

“Why?” She crossed her arms and jutted a hip out as she stared down at me.

I tried and failed to form a reply that would be worthy of my time. Speaking to my biggest bully from high school rated low on my list of things I was willing to do, but it seemed I’d need to brainstorm a reply to get her to leave me alone.

Or maybe not. If I stare at her and opt for silence, she’ll get awkward and walk off, won’t she?

Sticking with that tactic, I didn’t budge as I eyed her seriously.

Go away.

Find someone else to bother.

Just. Fuck. Off.

Sadly, she didn’t possess the skills of reading my thoughts. She remained there, watching me.

“I asked you a question.”

Boo hoo.