A Week Later

Chapter Seven

5/30/22

Two of the girls have their visitation today. I'm surprised they're having visitation. And public at that. Mom made me hook up a tv that didn't even work. I was so flustered already that when I found out it didn't work, she unhooked it and made me throw it in the dumpster. I came in and sat in the bathtub, running my feet under cold water. Good coping mechanism. I wonder if the shooter ever did it. The softball team left for state today. I saw Looper and Thomas in the videos. Thank god I decided not to go. I can keep a conversation decently well now, but not with him. I can't figure out why. Yes I can. The softball team wore "Uvalde Strong" shirts. They're gonna wear them for warmups too. I was gonna go to San Antonio with wyatt, but I decided I didn't want to. He said he's going back to Waco tonight. I should've gone with him. I told carlo last night that the shooter helped mom and I at Wendy's.

"No shit? Wow." The more I think about it, I'm almost certain I saw Jose Flores and his family at Home Depot the other day. The day I bought my sewing machine. No shit. There's a short film on HBOMax called 1,2,3 Eyes on Me. Mom is convinced that the shooter saw it and wanted to recreate it. I don't think he did. She says it's not a mental illness problem, it's the media. I think it's both. More mental illness than media. She'll never accept that. She thinks mental illnesses are fake. She doesn't take me seriously. She thinks I'm in a mood all the time. That I'm overreacting or being an asshole because I don't like her. I'm being an asshole because she's emotionally manipulative. If Salvatore's family is anything like her, I understand why it happened. But I'd never shoot anyone other than myself. I wish he'd just shot himself.

I don't work at the restaurant tomorrow. I need to make sure Amber will be there at 6:30 with Elaine. I also need to fix the schedule so Elaine can clock in at 6:30 on Wednesday. I'm going to apply at 90s next week. I'm gonna take this week to breathe and get shit done before I completely overwhelm myself. I can walk there and mom can take the car. We'll save more gas that way. I won't have to drive an extra 50 miles a day. I love the restaurant. I love the customers, but the cooks are starting to get to me. I think they think I think I'm better than them because I'm the manager. I think they think they can get to me because they know they can. It sucks.