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Chapter 5: Show Me The Damage.
"Okay, so let's huddle up and count our blessings." Faye announces as she gets to the counter where I put the tray in the tray spot.
"Okay, here you go." I hand her all my tips.
We just finished our shift and we were about to do our accounting under the lighting of a booth at the diner that we don't pay for. She brings out a napkin and a pen from her pocket and we bring out our tips.
"Okay so," she sighs before adding up the amounts on her phone calculator, "Adding the photography gig money and this week's tips and your mugs' gig and your vases gig and we got ourselves..." she taps a few buttons and then smiles, "Nine hundred sixty-three dollars and ninety-eight cents!"
I laugh in relief. Thank God we can go through this month.
"Okay, so as we have agreed before: Our measly pay-checks go to student loans." we both groan, "And with this, we pay rent." she taps her screen again, "That leaves us with... Four hundred sixty-three dollars and ninety-eight cents."
"Now, it's four hundred eighty-three dollars and ninety-eight cents." Beth, our co-worker puts a twenty on our table. "That creepy guy left you this."
After she leaves, I open the twenty-bucks to read today's note: "Don't say I didn't warn you."
I turned around immediately, to check if I could get a glimpse of him but he left the restaurant before Beth reached our table.
"Okay then," I sigh, "We got ourselves an extra twenty bucks."
"This is sick, Vee." Faye glares at me, "And you know it."
Yeah, I did know it. But there was nothing I can do about it. Poor people had far fewer choices than what common sense allowed. Instead, I took the money and waited for when whatever it was happened, then I can deal with the material and physical consequences rather than stress about made-up scenarios that serve me nothing but cause peaks in Cortisol production and I can't afford to get fat off negative thoughts because in all honesty, I can't afford new clothes.
