The written rules were simple.
Uno. Go to the P.O box the 1st of every month.
Due. Do not open it until I return home.
Tre. Spend the cash however I want.
The unwritten rules were anything but.
When I first received the letter with instructions, I w...
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It's 1 in the morning on Saturday in the popular and beloved The Luxe Club. Out on the floor, patrons are having a wonderful time dancing to some Lady Gaga song. The feeling in the front is a stark contrast to the feelings in the back, where I sit by myself on a crate.
I broke my crying schedule. I couldn't help it. After getting those bills in the mail, I was completely crushed. It felt like I couldn't catch a break.
Sniffling, I wipe my cheeks with my hands. My mascara or eyeliner must be running because black streaks run across my palm. In about 12 hours I would be in the Academic Dean's office, dropping out of university because I couldn't afford next semester's tuition. Maybe they could hold my seat until the following semester, but even then I don't think I'd save enough to keep going.
I hear someone by the door and try to erase all evidence of my sadness. I hop off the crate and clear my throat, turning around.
"Baby girl," Trevon exclaims. He's my best friend. Of course, he knows I snuck back here because something was wrong. "Why you crying, ma?"
He comes to me, turning me around to give him a hug. I bury my head into his chest, crying harder. "I have to drop out."
"Oh fuck, Lucia, why?"
"Can't afford it. I'm also getting evicted."
I hear him sigh and pull away. Almost immediately he grabs my chin to look at him. "Fuck that elitist school then. You work, save up, and then you go back. No big deal. It sucks, but all this means is that you and I can finally fuck it up again. You'll stay with me until you get back on your feet. I only have a couch, but..."
"No, that would be great, Trevon. Thanks so much. You really are a great friend, and you're right. School is so boring compared to the shit we used to do together."
"Exactly! Now, come on or Jack is gonna shit a brick."
#
Walking into my apartment, I sigh, looking around the place I'd be forced to leave soon. The bright red letter sat on the counter, a constant reminder that I couldn't take care of myself.
"Fuck, mail," I mutter, going back out to look in my mailbox. I grab the pile and head back inside, sifting through the stack. No more bills, thankfully, just coupons and...
I raise an eyebrow at a small envelope with my name in big, ornate, decorative letters. There was no return address or my own address. It was just a white envelope with black letters on the front.
It takes my attention. I open it immediately and sit down, clearly knocked into next week. A key falls onto the floor.
Lucia,
I hope the contents of this letter are clear and concise because you will get no chance to respond with questions. The information in this letter is final and accurate. Please remember this is ultimately your decision, and whatever you chose, there will be consequences.
