My heart sinks.
Time to face the facts.
Tomorrow is the day I lose my job. A job I worked my ass off to get. A job I love with all my heart.
Charlie searches my face. He frowns, “Lex, I know we’re not supposed to get personal at work, but I…” He sighs. “…I just want to ask if everything’s okay. You haven’t been yourself lately. I rarely see you smile anymore. I’m worried about you.”
Standing abruptly, I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my skirt. Putting on my brightest smile, I tell him, “I’m fine. Really. I just haven’t been sleeping well lately. I have a lot on my mind.”
Charlie throws me a sympathetic smile. “Okay. Well, you know you can talk to me anytime.”
Standing, he takes his leave and I stand behind my desk, brain blank.
The past week has been shitty. Shitty because I felt ill most days, and shitty because Twitch decided he is sick of playing with me.
But didn’t have the guts to tell me himself. I’ve been waiting a week for him to show up in my room or text me. I haven’t even felt him watching me. He’s just…gone.
I realize the cocaine thing was bad and I shouldn’t have done that, but in all seriousness, I don’t even remember doing it.
I mean, me? Doing cocaine? I-I don’t know what happened.
That’s just not like me.
I’ve avoided Nikki and Dave as much as humanly possible. They’ve been calling every day asking if we can get together, but I’ve told them that I haven’t been well and didn’t want to pass my bug on. Dave seemed mollified. Nikki? Not so much.
She knows. She always knows when something’s happened.
And that asshole. That fucking asshole.
Ditching me like yesterday’s trash.
I tell myself that I don’t care and that it’s much better this way. Cutting ties without leaving a mess. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cut me deep.
I seem to be going through the stages of grief.
I’ve already been through the first step, denial and isolation, and have moved up to stage two, anger. And I’m angry right now.
How dare he? Who does he think he is? I don’t need him.
Maybe if you just call him…?
Oh hell. I’m already on the verge of step three. Bargaining.
I don’t care who he is, I’m not calling him. I haven’t done anything wrong!
Sitting back down behind my desk, I text Nikki and Dave, asking them to meet me tonight.
I need a girl’s night.
“So what you’re saying is that he just stopped calling?”
Well, technically, Twitch doesn’t call, but… “Yeah. That’s about right,” I tell Nikki.
Dave looks over at me through sad eyes. “Maybe you should call him. He could just be busy.”
Rolling my eyes, I state, “You don’t even like him! Why are you sticking up for him?”
Dave places his hands up in an I surrender gesture, “I may not like him, but I know you do, which means he’s gotta have some redeeming qualities or you wouldn’t want him.”
Does Twitch have any redeeming qualities? I’ll have to ponder this question later.
Nikki asks, “You don’t think he’s just giving you some time to yourself after getting sick at his place? Maybe he thinks you’re embarrassed about it and will come to him when you’re ready.”
Yeah. That’s right. I’m officially a lying sack of shit.
I couldn’t tell my friends that I had willingly taken drugs. They’d be so disappointed in me. Dave and Nikki aren’t against the use of drugs, but they know what I do for a living. They know what happens if I take drugs. They know…they know I’ll lose my job.
And tomorrow it’ll all come out.
But I’ll wait until then.
Throwing some potato chips into my mouth, I chew loudly, sigh, then let out a garbled, “Life sucks.”
The woman who swabbed my inner cheek was young and plump, with short black hair and tattoos.
Tattoos that immediately reminded me of a certain someone I’d rather not think about.
She said, “You can wait here for the results,” as she went to process my positive result.
Unable to sit there knowing what would be happening in a few minutes, I all but ran back to my office, and flustered, began looking through my drawers.
So here I am, waiting for someone to knock at the door and tell me my inevitable fate.
The knock sounds and I jump.
“Come in,” I call out weakly.
Charlie strides into my office with a white sheet of paper in his hands. Placing the paper on my desk, he glares at me. “Results are in.”
Oh shit. This is it.
Confusion washes over me as his face breaks out into a huge smile, then winks, “Passed. As per usual.”
The office door shuts behind him. I stare at it dumbfounded. I don’t understand. I was preparing to lose my job.
Maybe they made a mistake.
How could they? There’s very little mistake margin in those tests.
It had to have been a mistake. A happy mistake.
I still don’t understand.
What just happened?
My phone pings, scaring the life out of me.