Page 2 of Until

“Sometimes I forget how out of touch you are with the rest of the world,” he says.

Antonio sighs deeply as he leans back in the squeaky office chair. "I know you're going through a really rough time right now, Carina, and you're one of my best waitstaff. You’ve worked here for years. If it was up to me, this wouldn’t happen, but I have to let you go."

“No, don't say that. Maybe there was a misunderstanding. Maybe he didn’t say to fire me. You know everything that's going on with my grandmother. She's my entire world, and she had an aneurysm and needed surgery. You can't do this to me. I need this job so I can take care of her.”

My eyes fill with tears that I try to blink back, but the blinking only sets them free. I reach across the desk for Antonio's arm, ignoring the huge tears that are streaming down my face. I need to change his mind somehow.

"Please stop. I hate tears,” he says as he pulls his arm away and grabs a box of tissues from the bottom desk drawer. "I know it doesn't matter, but this wasn’t my choice. It doesn't even have anything to do with your being late today. That's just a coincidence. Mr. Winterbourne is scaling back, and because you've been here for so long you have the highest hourly rate. He said we need to let you go."

"Then lower my pay. Please, Antonio, I need this job.”

He shakes his head sadly.

“I can’t. I’ve heard this is happening throughout the company, at multiple restaurants. It’s not just here. It’s not just you. My hands are tied, Carina. No one ever disagrees with Alex Winterbourne.”

“Who?”

“Alex Winterbourne. C’mon. Are you serious? You’ve never heard of him?”

“No. Should I know his name?” I ask.

“Everyone knows his name. You must be living under a rock.”

“I guess so. Maybe I can convince him to let me keep my job.”

“You can do better than this job, Carina. Better than just waiting tables. You’ll have a glowing reference from me whenever you need it.” He smiles at me, but his smile quickly fades as more tears roll down my cheeks. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll let you work your shift tonight as planned. I know you can use the money.”

I yank a tissue out of the box and dry my eyes. I open my mouth to thank him, but only a squeak comes out.

This job is perfect. It’s flexible, it’s only blocks away from the hospital, and our tiny apartment. I need to stay close in case my grandmother ever needs me. All we have is each other.

I take a deep breath as I collect myself. This is just a bump in the road, something better is just around the corner. I have to believe that.

After cleaning up, Odessa and I grab our coats, then walk out the back door, and towards the street.

“I can’t believe tonight is it for you,” she says.

“I know. I’m going to miss this place.”

“You want a ride home? It’s chilly, and you know someone with your pale complexion shouldn’t be out here by herself. You practically glow in the dark.”

“Thanks a lot.” I laugh. “It’s only a few blocks, and I could use some fresh air.”

“Alrighty then, sis. Call me tomorrow.”

I wave to her as she drives past. The small morning hours are my favorite time in the city. There’s a stillness that doesn’t exist during the day. It makes me feel special and connected to the city in a way I don’t feel during the day when it’s crowded. I take in a deep breath and then huff it out to watch the air from my mouth turn to steam. It’s the perfect time to be alone with my thoughts.

Headlights come from behind me. I don’t turn toward them, I ignore them. If my time growing up in the city has taught me anything it’s to keep my eyes facing forward and to just keep walking.

A black limousine pulls up at the curb ahead of me. The rear window slides down. Out of the corner of my eye, a man in his mid-40s with a slender face, round tortoise-shell framed glasses, and dark wavy hair slicked back leans forward in his seat.

"A woman shouldn't be walking through this part of town alone," he says. “Get in. I'll give you a lift."

He pushes open his door, then leans back in his seat as if he has no thought to the fact that I might say no.

I keep my eyes focused ahead and keep walking.

The car inches forward, keeping pace with me.

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