Thirty-Eight Dollars

The screeching of the alarm pulled John from his sleep, and he groggily dragged himself out of bed to shut off the alarm. He pulled open the top drawer of his nightstand and retrieved a pill bottle with worryingly few pills in it. "Only fifteen. I'll have to use these sparingly if I want to make it to the end of the month," he thought. John suffers from depression and is very good at managing it, but an issue arose when his bike was stolen last week, forcing him to take the bus. Fortunately, his girlfriend had recently decided to go back to school, so she was able to get him a monthly pass for forty dollars, but unfortunately this left him thirty-eight short of what he needed to refill his meds. He grabbed the bottle and took it into the kitchen, where he poured himself a tall mug of black coffee and took his first dose. After finishing his coffee, he showered, brushed his teeth and returned his meds to the nightstand. By this point Amanda had woken up and saw John putting his pills away. Strange... he usually took them with him so he could take his afternoon dose.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned. Had John suddenly decided to stop taking his meds?

"I can't afford to get them refilled so I'll have to drop down to one pill a day until I get my next paycheck," he said sitting next to her on the bed "I've done it before, and everything will be ok." He stood up, kissed her cheek, and left for work.

John worked as a delivery driver for a multinational delivery service, making a whooping fourteen dollars an hour. Even with Amanda as a roommate it was barely enough to live on, but they made it work. As he drove along his route the monotonous nature of his job gave him time to think. The words he told Amanda rang in his head. "I've done this before." It was true, this wasn't the first time that unexpected expenses had caused him to ration his meds. What he didn't tell her was that if it wasn't for his old roommate and best friend buying some questionable sushi from 7-11 and having to leave work early, he probably wouldn't be here today. He played the events of that day repeatedly, telling himself over and over, "I'm older now with better coping mechanisms, I'm quicker to recognize when I'm spiraling, and can pull myself out". Despite all his reassurances to himself he could still see the worry on his friend's face all those years ago, hear the worry in Amanda's voice from this morning, and knew that despite his best efforts this disease could take him without proper medication.

John got out of his truck, doing the usual walk around to make sure he hadn't added any new bumps or scratches. The company would dock his pay if there were any "inconsistencies on the paint." As usual his driving was perfect; nothing was amiss and he had gotten every package delivered (failing to do so was something they could dock you for, although his manager rarely did.) He hovered above the punch machine, about to clock out and go home, but he stopped to look at his phone, coming face to face with Amanda in wallpaper form. It wasn't anything special, just a random picture he had taken when they had first started dating. She was engrossed in the game they were playing and something about it just made John feel safe and warm; it was this picture that gave him the push, the courage to step into his boss's office and ask for an advance on his paycheck. Something was off about his boss today though. Normally the door was wide open, and anyone could walk in if they had any questions or concerns, but today both the blinds were closed, and the door was locked. John knocked, wondering what had gone wrong, and a stranger in a suit opened the door.

"Where's Mr. Anderson?" John asked.

"Mark Anderson was let go. He wasn't meeting company expectations. My name is Harold Livingston, I'll be over seeing operations till we find a replacement," the man spoke in a rather demanding and quite demeaning voice, as if he believed himself to be above this place and the people in it.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Mr. Anderson was a great boss, we're all going to miss him," John said, staring at the floor. "I do have a question regarding my pay,"