The Shape of Love

#11 Friday Evening "Stay"

"Fuck." Lacey mumbled to herself as she jammed her thumb in the lumbering file cabinet for the fourth time - thirteenth if you counted the last few days.

Not that Lacy was counting.

The file cabinets were new, Marie had told her that much before she'd begun. The doors slid easily despite the weight of the growing folders Lacey diligently ordered.

Why then was she so prone to catching her thumb?

Lacey's full attention wasn't on the task - not just because it was mind numbing work. Filing didn't exactly require her brain to fire at full capacity, but then again Lacey's mind seemed to be wandering more than usual.

It'd happened at the coffee shop too, she'd been spilling hot drinks of her arms and forgetting to give change several times a day.

And surely, her wandering thoughts couldn't be blamed on lack of sleep either. Lacey was no stranger to that - even though her sleep schedule was more hectic than it'd ever been.

For the past four days she'd been working in the tranquil cubicle at nights after pulling a shift at the coffee shop during the day. Exhaustion was settling into Lacey's bones like a hardening mold. How long could she keep this up?

She was already fraying on a thread. And what if the second interview didn't go well ?

Where would that leave her?

That was why Lacey had coffee burns on her forearms & a bruised thumb nail.

There was only so much she could do for Marie. And only so much money she could take from her before her conscious burst.

What other options did she have?

The thought had pushed Lacey to enter the unwritten agreement with Marie that guaranteed her a check at the end of the week. A check that when combined with her advance from the Split Bean would cover rent for the month of May. She would have a roof over her head at least, but while it would shield her from the spring rains it would do nothing against the hospital bills that pelted her on the eighteenth of every month.

Her head had become numb to the thought, the dense thunk of the monthly cheek hardly bruised her anymore. She wouldn't let it. Lacey wouldn't let the thought enter her mind, not when she had a panic attack every time she walked in the dark.

Direct withdrawal she'd told them. Anything to lessen her interaction with the sterile environment. All she would see was the words St. John's on her bank statement. Only she would know what it was for. And only she would know how much it drove her into debt.

Every month on the evening of the 18th she'd get the notification. Usually she'd be laying in bed. Safe. It was only then that she'd allow herself to fully revisit that night before pacing to the future. Lacey would stare up at the ceiling as her head rested on the pillow and picture the single spiderleg crack that began in the middle of the plaster for no apparent reason.

She'd had three days to figure it out, and eventually amounted it to water damage as she lay in the hospital bed. Lacey had no idea what time she had come into the emergency room, there'd been no clock. But she knew she'd stayed for two more nights before she convinced the nurse she could check herself out. That morning she'd lied and said that someone - her mother - was coming to pick her up before she snuck out of the lobby.

Too ashamed to call her mother - or anyone for that matter - Lacey took the bus home. Her hands were shaky as she walked past the alley way and even shakier as she tried to push the key into her lock. When she'd finally got in and locked the door behind her she collapsed onto her bed - in the same position - with her eyes glued to the ceiling.