Sasha

“You cool if I go back to work tomorrow?” Twyla asks handing me a cup of water and a pain pill.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You didn’t have to stick around this long anyway.”

“I wanted to. It was a good excuse to get out of work and relax for a few days.”

“I have to go to the store today and let them know I’m almost ready to come back. These few days off might have been relaxing for you, but I’m going nuts sitting around the apartment watching TV all day.”

“That’s because you don’t have to climb up and down a pole and flash your tits and your beaver at sleazy men for a living. I guarantee if you do what I do, you’d enjoy some time off.”

Twyla’s a stripper at Climax. She complains a lot, but, in reality, I think she loves her job. She enjoys attention, and she’s got a body that never quits—long legs, perfect twearking ass, and fake boobs courtesy of Dr. Sullivan’s partner, Dr. Mason. She says she’s got to make as much money as she can while she’s still smoking hot because she’s got nothing upstairs but street smarts. I say she’s sexy all right, but wrong about the rest. She’s smart as hell, and she’d never admit it, but she would love to go to college.

“I’ll give you that. I don’t know how you do it. I’m too modest for that line of work. I’ll stick to stuffing stinky feet into too small shoes, thanks.”

She shrugs and turns to leave my bedroom where I’ve been hanging out all week. “You should go see what’s up in the living room and wash those stank sheets, woman. You’re starting to stink being cooped up in here.”

I smell my armpits and call out. “I smell fine. I showered the day before yesterday!”

“Do it again!” she yells back.

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. She’s right. I’m going to work today, and I can’t go like this. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and wait for the dizziness that occurs when I get up for the first time every day. When there is only one of everything in my path again, I stand and make my way into my bathroom to turn on the shower.

In the mirror, I notice the bruising looks significantly better than it did yesterday. The putrid green color is now gone from my eyes, and a lovely vanilla yellow beige has replaced it. I’m not sure which is worse, but I know the lighter colors mean I’m on the right track. The swelling in my nose is better today as well, so overall it’s a good start to the day.

My pain pills are kicking in, my chest is all warm and fuzzy, and my nose isn’t throbbing. I need to time my trip to work perfectly, so I’m not doped up but still pain-free. I want to look like I’m ready to come back to work now even though I can’t imagine bending over to help someone put on a shoe. All that pressure on my face would make me pass out for sure.

I unbutton my nightshirt and drop my panties before getting into the shower. I had to use an old boyfriend’s button-up to sleep in since I’m not allowed to put my hands over my head. It’s okay, but I miss my silky pajamas.

When I’m no longer a smelly bedroom degenerate, I dress and go to the living room to watch a few YouTube videos while I wait for the pain meds to wear off. I wake up with my head on the back of the couch and a dry mouth after dozing off. Shit, shit, shit, it’s late. How long did I sleep? I look at my phone—two and a half hours? Great, now I get to go to work and talk to my boss in pain. I stand up too fast and grab the arm of the couch to keep from toppling over.

Take it easy, Sasha, it won’t do you any good to hurry if you go crashing through the glass coffee table. When I’m straight, I head for the door grabbing my purse on the way. Outside, I squint in the sun. I’ve been hibernating for days, and the sun’s warmth feels incredible on my skin.

When I arrive at the mall, I check my face in the mirror and decide that I am the perfect blend of post-operative disarray and a determined, dedicated employee. Time to secure my job and ask for full-time hours. The flower shop hasn’t been busy enough to need my help lately, and my savings account is almost on E.

Sam from the Fragrance Department greets me right away when I walk inside. “Hey, Sasha, it’s good to see you. I heard about your accident, I’m so sorry. Are you doing okay?”

I point to my nose, “Got a nose job, and I can breathe now, so yeah I’m doing better. How are things around here?” I say resting my forearms on the display case between us.

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Kruger’s been having regular inventory meltdowns, and McKinney’s talking about budget cuts and shorter breaks.”

Budget cuts? Shit, I hope it’s nothing serious. It figures I come in here needing extra hours, and management is cutting back.

“Yeah, sounds like nothing’s changed for sure.” I laugh nervously, but Sam doesn’t know me that well and doesn’t notice.

“Are you coming back soon?” he asks.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I need to talk to them about my schedule.”

“Cool. Hey, did they ever find the guy who hit you?”

“No, they probably won’t. It was late, and there were no cameras around, so I’m screwed. I’m going to have to buy a car, mine was totaled.”

“That sucks. Did you see anything? Like what kind of car or the driver, anything?”

“No, as I said, it was dark, and I didn’t see anything.” That’s a total lie. I know who hit me and why, but I’m sure as hell not going to say anything to the police. I don’t need that kind of trouble in my life.

“I got a friend who sells cars. I can give you his number if you want.”

“Thanks, Sam, that would be great. I’m going to talk to McKinney. I’ll get the number on my way out.”

“Okay, see ya.”

“See ya.”

I walk to the escalator and ride it upstairs to the executive offices and wait at Customer Service for McKinney. Twenty minutes later, my face aches, and my stomach is growling when he comes strolling into the waiting room.

“Sasha? Wow, they said you were in an accident, but I didn’t know it was this bad. Come on back and sit down,” McKinney says motioning me toward him. I took that comment as a direct hit to my fragile self-esteem and inwardly cringed. I must look terrible, but I guess I’ve gotten used to it.

Inside his dimly lit office, he closes the door. “So, what brings you in today?” he asks sitting down behind his desk that looks too small, but it’s just that he’s way too big. It’s funny to watch him squeeze into his chair, and I would probably giggle under different circumstances, but since I’m here to beg for my job, I keep my mouth shut.

“I wanted to let you know that I’ll be able to come back to work next week. And I also wanted to know if I could go back to full-time. I’ve got a lot of expenses since my accident was a hit and run, so I could use the money.” I give him a tiny smile with one corner of my mouth, even though I’m not supposed to per doctor’s orders.

His face falls, and his complexion turns ashy. “Oh, Sasha, didn’t you get the letter I sent you?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so.” Shit, I have a stack of mail a mile high at home that I couldn’t go through for a while because my vision was so bad after the accident, and my eyes were ninety-five percent swollen shut. When I could finally see again, I began the daily ritual of stuffing the unopened mail into the junk drawer in the kitchen.”

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea. Sasha, we had to terminate your employment. Katrina from Lingerie wanted to transfer, and we had to cover your hours. We are fully staffed now, and I don’t have a position for you.”

Terminate? Fully staffed? No position? I can’t believe this shit. How do you fire an employee who’s worked for you for seven years with no problems? I never called in sick more than once a year.

“I’m fired? But, but I’ve worked here seven years.”

“I know. We felt terrible, but it was inventory time, and we were short-staffed. You can reapply when something opens up.” He smiles an optimistic smile, and I groan. I can’t take time off to wait for something to open up. I need a job now.

“There’s nothing open? I don’t care what department I work in, I just need a job.”

“Unfortunately, no. We had some temporary positions during inventory, but inventory is complete, and those people were let go, too.”

Shit, what the hell am I going to do? “Do you think there will be any openings coming up soon? I need to get back to work.”

“Not that I know of, but you’ll be the first person I call if we do. I promise.”

“Okay,” I sigh. “I guess there isn’t anything else to talk about then.”

“I am sorry, Sasha, I’ll give you a glowing recommendation. You were an exemplary employee.”

I snort, not exemplary enough to keep me on after I was in a car accident. I don’t say what I’m thinking, though. I need that recommendation.

“I hope you get to feeling better soon.”

“Thanks.” I stand and exit his office walking in a daze to my rental car in the parking lot. I’m glad Sam wasn’t at his counter when I walked by. I’m not ready to explain to anyone why I don’t have a job because I’m not sure myself.

Seven years at the same store, and one car accident later, I’m out on the curb just like that. All thanks to an ex who can’t fucking let go.

Sometimes life’s a bitch.