Let's Be Amazing

Chapter 17

"Hi! What can I help you with darling?" She asked nicely, although it was probably forced happiness.

"Hi." I smiled back. "My parents and younger sister live here, apartment 10, and I somehow managed to lose the key they gave me." I know, I know, I shouldn't lie but the truth wouldn't work...probably. I don't know. Stressing out over here.

"Ah....are you Amie Collins?" She asked, saying Amy.

"Yea." I nodded, not bothering to correct her.

"They said if you stopped by anytime to give you this key. They must have heard about you losing the key." She chuckled. "2nd floor, third door on the right." She nodded, gesturing to an elevator.

"Thank you." I took the key and decided to take the stairs that were right next to the elevator.

I'd rather not accidentally run into my parents right now. I mean, of course I'm here to see them but if I just happened to run into them on the elevator then they would make up some sort of excuse but if I go to their apartment, they would probably give me the real answer. Or at least I hope they would give me an answer...but what if there weren't home? What would I do? I mean, the lady did give me a key....but if they weren't home then how could I get an answer? By the time the thought of them not being home hit me, I was already on the second floor, right in front of their door. I knocked on it twice. Waited. No answer. Knocked again, a bit harder. Waited a bit longer than last time. Nothing. I jiggled the door handle. Locked. Should I leave? Of should I unlock the door and wait? Some part of me is yelling to run and never come back. Another says its all just a dream. The last says there is nothing to lose. Go for it. And it somehow trumps all the others. And I unlock the door and walk inside. It was small. Uncomfortable. Hostile. If you could consider an apartment hostile. Uninviting is probably more fitting. The walls were white. Nothing but white walls. Scarce furniture. A few family photos. The kitchen was connected to both the living room and the dining room. Which I was already standing in. Down a small hallway were some other doors, presumably bedrooms and bathrooms. I walked around a bit, taking in my surroundings. It was no doubt my families. The photos were the ones that we had up in our house. My fingers skimmed the photos gently as I slowly paced myself around the living room. I sighed and sat down in a chair by a table. It was clearly new. A small table for four. The chairs were ours but we previosuly had more than what was here. Mail was scattered across the table. I drummed my fingers nervously against the table, willing for my family to walk through the door. Time ticked on, minutes feeling like hours, but only 10 minutes had passed since I first walked in. I convinced myself to wait 20 more minutes. Then I'd leave. I had also convinced myself that it would be okay to glance through my parents mail. All of it was already opened, the envelopes gone. There was some junk mail that I just piled up in a corner. Nothing seemed very important, or at least interesting. Electricity bills. Phone plan updates. The usual. But something had caught my eye. My doctors name, Giles Hillberry, stuck out to me like a sore thumb. I grasped the letter. And read. I read the bill from two months ago for me and all my medical things. The total was astonishing. Unfathomable. Apparently our insurance hadn't covered the clinical trial medicines. Maybe that was the only one like it. I hoped so at least. I grabbed another letter and went for the bottom. Even larger. Even higher. And the totals just kept growing. Giants among numbers and numbers. A giant mess. A mess of money. And the most was when I was diagnosed. The amount took me by shock. I didn't think that numbers could even get that high. I grabbed my mums credit card bills. She had barely anything left in her account. Same for my father. We were basically broke. Broke because of cancer. Because of me. I flicked a tear away from the corner of my eye and wrote down their account numbers. I left some money I earned from the clothes on the table, not enough to be shocking but enough to at least help. I found a blank envelope and just simply wrote a quite thank you for my parents being at the party and left it under the door. And I walked out. Locked the door and left. There was no way I was going to just sit back and watch all this unfold. I was fine now. Cancer free. I could get a job. And that was what I was going to do. Get a paying job and give the majority of my salary to my parents. Even if it meant them not knowing.

For the rest of the day, I ended up driving around looking for places that were hiring. I had managed to find a few and locked in some interviews do them tomorrow as well. The main places I would be eager to work for were a pet grooming place (interview tomorrow at 3:00) TopShop (interview at 11:00 but it's very competitive) Subway (1:00) and of course, if it came down to it, there was some fast food chains that I'd rather not work for. Top of my 'list' was Starbucks in which I was heading home to go change for an interview with them at 4:30, over 30 minutes to do so. And to make it better, Starbucks was only 10 minutes away from my house, making it a perfect place to work at. I could even walk if I was willing to. But I'd better not get too far ahead of myself. I still have to find my old resume. If I have it anymore.....

Turns out I still somehow had my resume, not too bad but could be better but given my circumstances, it should work. Then again under current job I was able to say Victoria's Secret....although I haven't been there or worked for them in forever. Mental note to contact them. Anyways, I printed my resume after a few touches, cleaned up a bit, threw my hair into a high ponytail that looked more professional than casual, and changed. I changed into a pair of light wash boyfriend jeans that I rolled up a bit at the bottom, a simple white tee shirt, a red blazer (that I totally forgot I had), and some red heels. Business casual. Not trying too hard but not trying to little. I have to admit I'm pretty nervous, it's been so long since I had an interview and I was hoping that they wouldn't ask me any of the weird questions that my Lead class had asked in high school. Honestly what kind of a question is "What would you rather be from a picture on the wall: the picture, the frame, or the nail?"!!! And saying that I was only recently released on remission, would anyone even hire me?

~Stay strong my darlings, you are truly beautiful inside and out~