Weathering the Storm by Brynn Paulin

 

 

 

Chapter Six

~ Heller ~

Somehow, I’d made it to school on time this morning. Truth be told though, I shouldn’t have bothered for all the attention I’d paid today. I was only a warm body taking up space in a desk, at the moment.

All I could think about was that I’d had everything I’d always wanted, she’d been right there in my arms. Had I lost her? Because of something as stupid as my age? That thought, that dread, plagued me through the whole school day. And into my first job at the garage. I swept by rote, lugged boxes without much thought… To tell the truth, I was mostly checked out from everything but my memories of the past night and plans for going forward. I wasn’t giving up Becca. The way we were together, it was fire. I’d make her understand that. I’d fight past her reservations.

This was not over.

But, I didn’t know what to do and how to proceed. It wasn’t as if I had a lot of experience with relationships. I rolled it over and over in my head throughout the day, during school, my first job, while I made deliveries.

As I neared the end of my shift, it hit me. She’d invited me out tonight. She hadn’t uninvited me. With that thought in mind, I did something I never did. It was a slow evening, and I asked to leave early.

“Are you ill?” Margo, my manager, joked, feeling my forehead. She was a mother of three, and her mom side seeped through, even when she was at the restaurant. In a way, it deepened my longing for a real parent—a desire I often ignored.

“I have a date tonight. In a couple hours…”

Her eyes widened, and her grin stretched further. “Go. In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never called in or asked to leave early. I’m not sure I know of you ever having a date. So go. I hope this girl realizes how lucky she is.”

“Thanks, Margo.” I gave her a half-smile, embarrassed and unsure how to take her compliment. I didn’t question it. I grabbed my stuff, slinging my backpack with my school books over my shoulder and headed for the door.

The pack was heavy as I swung onto my bike and pedaled toward my apartment. Despite my inattentiveness in class, I’d brought home my texts to review, and I often used my downtime between deliveries to study. Some nights, it seemed as if I was getting paid to do nothing, but the owners didn’t seem to mind. Deep down, I think they knew they were helping me out. It wasn’t as if they were unaware of my situation.

Cruising along the street, I enjoyed the clear night. The rain from yesterday had passed, and even for a early-May night in Missouri, it was comfortable, not cold, not humid. I took that as a good sign. As soon as I got to my place, I dragged my bike inside, locked the door and practically sprinted toward the shower to get off the smell of the garage and restaurant.

Afterward, I headed toward my room and pulled out my clothes. My nicest clothes. Staring at them, my chest tightened in helpless frustration. They were clean, but clearly well-worn.

Lacing my fingers together at the back of my head, I paced back and forth at the foot of my neatly made bed where the jeans and shirt lay across the faded blanket. I closed my eyes and drew in a long breath through my nose. That was the thing… Everything I had was old and worn, even if I kept it clean and picked up. I’d never had my own space before this one, so I took pride in it. At the moment, though, it seemed pointless.

I dropped onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling. Okay… I could work this out. Just like I always did.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t have money. I just didn’t spend it because I wanted a vehicle. Bad. More, I needed it to get to my college in August. But what if I used a little to buy a shirt? The jeans would be fine, but I needed a better shirt. Maybe a button-down or a pullover sports shirt?

My senses railed at that idea.

I’ll just skip a few meals. Eat only at the restaurant for a few days. I could make a box of granola bars last a week of breakfasts.

And what if she send you away, won’t even consider a date with you? Then you wasted money.

Sometimes, I hated my inner voice.

“She won’t send me away,” I growled. “I won’t let her.”