Page 23 of Lose You Twice

I reach into my bag on the floor beside the couch, finding the financial assistance paper folded inside my notebook, exactly where I shoved it after leaving campus. I pull it out carefully, as if it could bite. Feels like it could anyway.

Work-Study Employment Portal.

I open my laptop.

It takes forever to load because our Wi-Fi is spotty lately. While I wait, I check my phone.

Harlow sent a meme of a raccoon lying face down on a deck.

Harlow: You?

Wren: Looks a little too rested.

She sends back a heart.

I don’t answer, because the portal finally loads and immediately asks me to log in three separate times, as if one password can’t capture the full depth of my suffering.

Dining Hall Assistant — Evening Shifts.

Nope. Evenings are dinner, homework, baths, and preventing Daisy from using glitter unsupervised. Depending on Mom’s schedule for the week, I never know if she’ll be home or not. Some evenings would be fine, but not every single one of them.

Welcome to the lovely life of a nurse who doesn’t have a set schedule and also picks up any and every shift she can. Originally, she was supposed to be working four tens, followed by three days off. So far, that’s happened once. Most of the time, she’s picking up overtime on her days off, leaving just one or two days off per time period.

Hopefully soon, she’ll get a more permanent rotation and not need to pick up the overtime as often.

Library Circulation Desk — Weekends Required.

Weekends are grocery shopping, laundry, Justin’s games, Holden’s practice, twins’ birthday parties, and occasionally lying on my bedroom floor.

Tutoring Center Reception — Tuesdays and Thursdays, 3 p.m. to 7 p.m.

Pickup hours.

Campus Bookstore Associate — Position Filled.

Rude.

I scroll. And scroll. And scroll.

Each listing is either filled, pays basically nothing, or requires hours that would involve leaving six-year-olds to raise themselves, which seems frowned upon.

My eyes burn.

I rub them with the heels of my hands and look toward the kitchen.

Holden is humming under his breath while loading the dishwasher. Justin is probably upstairs pretending to sleep while actually watching basketball clips.

Everyone is okay.

For this second, everyone is okay.

So why do I feel like I’m standing under a ceiling that keeps lowering one inch at a time?

My phone buzzes.

9:18 — LOOK AT WORK-STUDY. DO NOT PANIC. PANIC IS FOR THURSDAYS.

I snort.