Somebody to Hold Tonight (Larry Stylinson)

7

I followed Harry's command and didn't go back to work after leaving the hospital. In my state of panic, it didn't even occur to me to inform Harry that we'd never had the option of taking a paid personal day before. I wondered if this was going to be something that came with the new ownership of the store, or if it had just been a ploy on Harry's part to get me to leave for the rest of the day.

I didn't suppose it mattered much either way. By the time I got home, it was a little after one. We'd been leaving work around four, so I was only missing a few hours of work anyway. Well, to be honest, I really wasn't missing it. My back hurt from all the lifting and moving of boxes and all of the other various things we'd been doing to get the store ready to be renovated.

I parked in the driveway when I got home. I was glad to see my dad wasn't there. I wasn't in the mood to put up with his lazy ass. It'd been a while since he worked, but I knew he'd need to find something again soon. He couldn't just keep drawing unemployment. He always worked someplace just long enough for him to qualify for unemployment, and then he'd start missing work or going in late. It never took too long for him to be fired. I was usually surprised when he managed to get a job in the first place. I didn't know he could stay sober long enough to do an interview.

I took Phoebe out of her car seat carefully so as not to wake her. She'd fallen asleep during the drive like she often did whenever she rode in the car. I struggled to unlock the front door. It was hard to do much of anything with nearly twenty-five pounds of dead weight on one shoulder, breathing down my neck and tickling me with each breath she took. It was a little known fact that I was extremely ticklish, and it was good thing no one was around to witness the little dance I was doing trying to get the key in the lock and keep from laughing every time a puff of air escaped through Phoebe's lips.

After I got the door unlocked, I pushed it open with my unoccupied shoulder and stepped inside and kicked it shut behind me before I dropped my bag and keys onto the table as I headed for the bedroom. I laid her down in her bed before collapsing on my own bed. I kicked off my dirty shoes and wiggled my toes. My feet were killing me. I needed new shoes. There was no cushion or arch support left in my old ones. The soles were beginning to peel away from the bottoms, but it wasn't any wonder. I'd worn them nearly every day for almost a year.

The only time I didn't wear them was in the summer when I could get by with wearing flip-flops everywhere I went. I wished it were always warm enough to wear them. I liked flip-flops because they were the closest I could get to being barefoot without actually going without shoes. I absolutely hated shoes. They were uncomfortable and cost entirely too much - at least to get a decent pair anyway.

I could remember the one pair of shoes I had that actually cost more than twenty bucks and didn't come from Wal-Mart. They were tan Sketches with their signature S on the side. I was thirteen, and my mom bought us all new shoes from Shoe Store that year. She'd budgeted and worked overtime at the diner down the road for months just to make sure she could get us new shoes and clothes before school started that year. The rest of the time we had to shop at Goodwill and other second hand stores. It wasn't really that bad, but it was nice to actually own something that hadn't been worn by someone else first.

Now that I was in charge of budgeting the money I understood why stuff like that didn't happen very often. It was hard to just pay the bills and make sure there was food on the table every night. Forget about buying new clothes. They just cost way too much. Sometimes I'd get lucky and go somewhere when they were having a massive sale, but stuff like that didn't happen often. I knew Lottie hated it. What girl wouldn't? It was hard enough just trying to fit in when you had no money let alone trying to keep up with the latest fashion.

I laid there in bed, thinking about all of the things I could get done with the extra time on my hands, but I couldn't seem to find the strength to even move. I was still shaken over the events of my day so far. I had been so worried about Galadriel. Just thinking of her lying on the floor helpless made my heart sink into my stomach. I wondered if maybe watching Phoebe was just getting to be too much for her. Phoebe was getting bigger, and she was getting faster and more likely to get into stuff. What if Galadriel just couldn't keep up?