Benevolence [H.S.]

Chapter Four

I make a sharp right into the alleyway between a row of houses, heading through to the old school building and up past the promenade.

Main street is only a couple miles away, I should get there without much fuss. The bank will have already opened which is perfect, because that's my first stop. Whatever we owe this employer, it can't be more than $300 if he's only been sending checks since Duncan shipped to boot camp. 

While I've tried to keep up on my savings, to withdraw that much now would completely decimate what I've managed to squirrel away, so I'll just have to give partial payment up front now and hope he'll accept the rest by the end of the month. That should give me enough time to find work and supplement what I'll be paying here.

I catch my reflection in the dark window of a little café that's yet to open just as I hit main street. Yeesh. I'd brushed my hair before breakfast, but hadn't planned on leaving so...quickly. My face is flushed with absolutely zero make-up and my bangs are already succumbing to the August heat. Shit. All of my plans for the day have gone to absolute shit and it's not even ten o' clock. I really had planned on putting a little extra effort into my appearance this morning. Not that I'm a poster child for Mary Kay, but the chances of getting Mr. Jenkins to hire me on at the Humboldt Gazette are pretty damn slim if I show up  in my current state.

I still need to stop by the school and see about a referral letter from my old English professor, anyway, so I suppose there'd be no harm in stopping by Allison's mom's salon on the way. Checking my watch, I wonder if she'll have time to do a quick face on me before her regulars come in.

It only takes me about fifteen minutes until I reach the front steps of the bank. At the front door, I take a second to catch my breath and pinch my cheeks, bringing a rush of pink to their surface.

Though still early enough to have a bite on the breeze, my pores definitely recognize the late Summer atmosphere. I dab at my face with the sleeve of my cardigan, mentally checking and rechecking how much I'll need to withdraw today. You'd think that being a writer would mean I'm more comfortable speaking aloud, but I rehearse what I'll have to say to the teller over and over in my mind before opening the door. I guess in this life we just have to trade some talents in for misgivings.

I open the door and step into the path of a whirring metal fan, blowing hard from a corner somewhere. The soft "tick tick tick" of typewriters and wall clocks chime pleasantly in the background, putting those who seek their balances (or lacketherof) a little more at ease.

The teller doesn't look up as she addresses me: "deposit or withdrawal?"

"Uhm...withdrawal, please. And if I could get a note on my balance that would be great." Better to keep track now than make assumptions later.

The large flame-haired woman looks up at me over her equally bright horn-rimmed glasses. "Sure, sweetie. Name please?"

I swear under my breath, just now realizing I haven't even brought my purse. I'm thankful she doesn't ask for ID.

"Benevolence Williams."

As she gets up to check the files, I look around at the mostly unfamiliar faces. It's strange seeing so many people working here that I don't know. I suppose this is a testament to the rush of people who've been coming up from further South.

The papers have been predicting a housing boom out this direction, but that wasn't supposed to happen until the next few years. The war started quicker than we all thought it would, though, and as the young men shipped off leaving their new wives back home, many had begun settling down, looking to raise families away from the expensive and overpopulated cities.