"I know, I know, I'm dumb for not putting my wallet in my backpack," I tell my mother over the phone. Immediately after I realized I lost my wallet, I called her. Just like my mom, I have a horrible habit of losing things. That, and having horrible financial problems.
My mother laughs, "I should buy you one of those wallet chains for Christmas. How many times has this happened this year? Three?" I sigh, not telling her it's been seven times. It's like there is a magnet that pulls it away from me. Losing everything around me, I should be used to it by now. Yet, I'm not used to it. Every time I lose something, I freak out until I find it again.
"Probably for the best, mom. I'm sorry for calling you so late at night. It's what, 11 o'clock back home? You should be sleeping." We say our goodbyes and I lean back on my apartment's kitchen counter. Stress and worry gives me a headache, so I massage my temples. It's hard to think right now when all my thoughts are just focused on everything and everyone. It's insane to think I could possible figure out where my wallet it is just by recalling everything I have done today, since I have done and walked so much. It's wasting my time and energy. I start to feel all my shoved down feeling rise up my throat until I let out a cry.
Tears prick up at my eyes as I recall my entire year. First, I broke up with Jeremy the day after my birthday. He told me that he had been seeing another girl at the same time as me. He told me that he left me for her, but how can I trust him to not do the same for me? It's reasonable, right? Maybe, but Jeremy was so upset he completely trashed my apartment and broke my mother's wine glasses she gave to me as a graduation gift. I was supposed to use those at my wedding.
Next, my brother left to go active in the Army. I love him, but I hated the idea that he could die overseas and we wouldn't know until weeks or even months later. Yet, he was so happy to feel useful for our country. He loved the idea that he could finally do something he loved. He was a vivid gun user and an adrenaline junkie. I could never hold it against him.
And then, I got into trouble with my college. They started to notice that I wouldn't attend class for one week each month. It wasn't for anything crazy, I just needed a week to pick up more hours at work so I could pay my rent and utilities. I did wild things for money, like take so many hours that once I step into my house I basically pass out. I still do my school work and my grade point average is still a solid 3.8, but they want me to attend every class. They threatened to take away my financial support. I've been looking into new ones but none of them are as good.
Speaking of my job, I've taken so many hours that they actually want to give me a promotion. The problem is is that that requires me to put more hours in, hours I don't have. Taking the hours would mean I am rarely home, barely able to keep up my own hygiene. It's mad. Either I can become manager of the small drugstore on the corner of Broadway and 19th Street, or I can try to keep my financial support. The choice is obvious, but I can't stop contemplating it.
It's all building up so quickly that I can't keep a sane mind. The best option is to just sleep on it and hope my wallet returns. Truly, I almost forgot my wallet was lost after I started thinking about everything. I rub the tears out of my eyes and head to bed. I haven't eaten since this morning, but I can't afford to eat many meals right now either. I plop down onto my bed with a huff. Closing my eyes, I try to sleep without another thought. It isn't going so well.
When I wake up, I head clumsily out of bed towards my bathroom. It's the only room in my apartment that is actually a room. I drag open my loosely hinged bathroom door and head to the shower. Thanks to all my relatives at Christmas, I actually have a lot of body wash and hair products. I take as decent of a shower has pelting hard water could give me. When I get out, I dry my hair with my towel, wrap the towel around myself, and head back into my bedroom, kitchen, living room combo. It's really just one room.
YOU ARE READING
Vanilla Scented Candles
Ficción GeneralJust 20 and in college, Clemine Jarst just got back to her house after class at the university, which is roughly an hour away. Only after she gets inside does she check her pockets to make sure everything is there. "Phone, keys, bus pass, and wall...