Will to Way, Wilt Away

Chapter 8

Sunshine was my alarm clock this morning, and what a beautiful way to start the day it was. Keeping my eyes closed, I shifted my body to face the window, soaking in each sun ray that caressed my face. I almost fell back asleep, but I forced myself to open my eyes when I felt my consciousness drifting away. Either way I was very content. I turned down Julius' offer to hang out two days ago, and he surprisingly had not asked me to hang out again since then. Obviously making new friends was a must for me right now, but just not with the boy who thought I was a sign from God or part of the Matrix, according to Shiloh. I will be his friendly next-door neighbor and nothing more.

Last night was the first time I slept through the night since moving in one week ago, so I was feeling pretty good. I grabbed my phone on the ground beside my mattress and—

"CRAP! 11:13!"

I rolled off of my mattress, slamming the back of my head on the wooden floor but ignoring the throbbing pain that immediately overwhelmed my skull. I scrambled to my feet and paced across my bedroom in complete discombobulation.

What do I do? What do I do! Think. Think! Oh, call Laura! Yes! Yes! Call her! I frantically tapped on the Contacts app of my phone, scrolled to "Laura from Pizza Place," and called the number.

"Please. Pick up. Pick Up. Come on," I muttered under my breath. Fifteen seconds passed. No answer. "Oh my god! I know you see my call Laura from Pizza Place! Pick up!" I was about to chuck my phone across the room when I heard a voice.

"Hello, this is Laura."

I quickly brought the phone to my face. "Hey Laura!" I greeted, balancing a precise combination of geniality, desperation, and strep throat in my voice. I wasn't sure what the best tactic was to get a second chance at an interview, so I wanted to keep all avenues of excuses open. "This is Aspen! I applied for a job at Slice of Heaven a few days ago."

"Oh, hi Aspen." Her voice was hostile and monotone, so I skipped my Kill-Her-With-Kindness and Please-I-Need-This-Job routines and went from zero to one-hundred on the BS scale.

I faked two hacking coughs and a sniffle into the phone before speaking. "Look, I first just want to tell you that I'm so sorry that I missed the interview, Laura," I said in a fatigued nasal voice. I coughed again for emphasis. "I woke up with a raging headache and a sore throat this morn—"

"Listen, Aspen," Laura interrupted with annoyance in her voice. "You seemed really hard working on your application, but you had no prior work experience or references. I was already throwing you a bone with this interview."

My eyes watered and my BS sniffles became real. I started doing my desperate routine without even intending to. "I know, and I'm so, so sorry. Please if you could just give me another chance....I just, I really need this job," I begged.

"Aspen, your interview was at 9:30. It's 11:15. I can't hire anyone who isn't committed. And come on, I wasn't born yesterday. I know you're pretending to be sick right now."

I contemplated adding in a few more coughs to really sell my ailment, but the last bit of dignity in me knew it was time to bow out. I wiped my eyes and respectfully said, "Yes, I understand. Sorry for taking up your time. Goodbye." I hung up the phone without waiting for her response, knowing that I only had a few seconds before I burst into tears.

I hurled my body onto my mattress and let the water flow down from the corner of my eyes onto my pillow. Four days ago, the manager of the clothing boutique across the street refused to hire me because of my "clear lack of customer service and just people skills in general." So, ouch. Two days ago, I was turned down for a janitorial job at a nearby middle school because they wanted someone who had more experience. Experience? They didn't think I was qualified to mop hallways and scrape gum off of lunch tables. That was a new level of degrading. And now this! Don't cry, I said in my head, attempting to comfort myself. There's a McDonald's two blocks away that's hiring.

I cried for the next two hours.

Eventually, I brought my wailing party to the glass box, hoping the sight of the city below would give me some sort of hope or comfort like it did a week ago. Nope. Absolutely nothing. The tears uncontrollably fell from my face. I was usually worried about people seeing my ugly cry. I was terribly single, so if anybody from the male sex caught a glimpse of my crinkled, contorted face, balloon-like eyes, and involuntary heaving, well, let's just say a lot of hacked up hairballs and kitty litter would be in my future.

My stomach grumbled, reprimanding me for skipping breakfast and lunch. This was one of the rare times where I actually skipped meals unintentionally, though I admittedly still viewed it as a win toward my thigh gap.

Over the next hour, my wallowing subsided but I laid on my back for a while longer, counting how long I could stare at the sun before blinking. It was an excruciatingly painful game, but it distracted me from the fact that I only had $634 left in my pocket and had now failed to get jobs folding clothes, scrubbing toilets, and tossing pizza dough, all in one week.

After a tortuous four second bout, I shut my eyes for ten seconds and then went for round two. I opened my eyes as wide as possible in the beginning, feeling the scorching rays pierce through my cornea and sear my pupil. "One." Every muscle in my face tensed up. "Two." I stretched the bottom and top of my eyes outward to force them to stay open. "Three." I started repeatedly slamming my heel against the ground. "Fou—"

"Aspen, what the hell!" screamed a frantic voice from behind me. I lost my focus and my eyes instinctively closed. I rubbed them in agony and started to see a swirling orange galaxy behind my eyelids.

"What on earth were you doing?" the voice asked in a panic.

It was the voice of a woman and definitely one that I knew, but I could hardly concentrate on figuring out who it was as I squirmed around like a slug.

"Wh—Who is it?" I managed to get out as I continued to rub my eyes.

I heard the pretentious clacking of stilettos walk down the steps and into the box. Soon the clacking was right next to my ear. I still couldn't open my eyes, but I knew the woman was now standing right over me.

She exhaled.

"You don't recognize your own mother's voice?"