Page 11 of Love Bitters

Imogene

It’s been three weeks down to the day since I accepted the position at Taylor Trust and Mutual from Nancy. As I figured it would, my background and credit check came back clean as a whistle. She’d called the second it did, too, supposedly. Apparently, her two other tellers had been complaining lately about not getting enough time off, and I had to hold myself back from insisting she just load their hours onto me. Not like I have anywhere important to be outside of there anyway. But I hadn’t told her that because I didn’t want to seem like an eager beaver and ass kisser. With the amount she gave me right out of the gate equaling a full-time position, the conversation didn’t even need to be had.

Only a day ago, my first paycheck was direct deposited into my new checking account that’s linked to the savings, and even with taxes, the balance is enough to give me the balls to do what I’ve got to today. In a couple weeks, the checks will be a little shorter, but that’s only because I’ll have insurance being taken out too. Compared to the amazing benefits, the difference is well worth it, and I’ll still be able to manage just fine on my own. September will creep up in no time, and the insurance will be one less thing to worry about between now and then.

Straightening the soft slinky material of my navy dress and running my fingers through my straight black hair, I take a deep breath before stepping into my small-heeled pumps, grabbing my handbag with my phone, and heading upstairs. I’d done a small bit of retail therapy after getting my job, finding things that were business casual. Pants were out since all of mine would need to be put on standby soon. As I start showing, the less I draw attention to my wardrobe changes, the better. Now that I’ve been keeping food down, I have no doubt I’ll start looking like an overripe watermelon in no time. Especially since I’ve been driven to eating some of the most unhealthy things. I’d be more worried about it if my doctor hadn’t said it was perfectly normal.

That thought flits through my mind, and I have to stop to take a breath on the stairs. Hearing my baby’s heartbeat for the first time had sent me into hysterics. I’d wanted to pick up the phone and call the guys, so they could enjoy the moment with me, and recalling that I couldn’t was a harsh slap to the face. Since that first week, I’ve heard from one of them once, maybe twice a week now, and it’s been really hard to remember why I pushed them away to begin with. With work occupying most of my time lately, it’s been a little easier but not much. I have less time to think about it, but it doesn’t make the reminders any less painful.

Putting one foot in front of the other, I finish climbing the stairs and go off in search of my mother. I’m not surprised to find her making the bed in their room.

“Hey, Mother,” I start, clasping my bag in front of me with both hands.

As soon as her gaze lifts to me from the bedspread, my palms instantly start sweating. One of the things that has bothered me more than anything else my entire life is having to ask her for help. I’d rather pick up my cell to call any of my guys and deal with that blow back than have to request favors from my mother. Unfortunately, with what I’m after, I know she’s the only person I would be able to ask.

“Yes, Imogene?” she snaps, making me aware this is probably the second time she’s said my name.

My lips arch up tightly as I ask, “Do the Millers still own and manage that apartment complex?”

Her head tilts in a slight motion before she smiles knowingly. “Are you finally thinking about leaving the nest, Imogene?”

I nod, and her smile gets bigger as she strolls over to where I’m still at in the doorway. She pats my shoulder softly as she says, “I didn’t think the day would ever come, but this job is doing you good. It’s about time you stopped relying on me and your father for everything.”

Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t bother waiting for any kind of reply. Instead just gently brushing shoulders with me, she heads down the hall murmuring about a rolodex. If my irritation was boiling over, I might make some kind of comment about living in the twenty-first century since no one except businessmen use those damn things anymore. As it is, her jabbing comments are the threads sewing my lips shut. It’s not that she’s not right. It’s more a matter of the differences she’s always shown between me and Lizbeth. There’s no way she’d treat her like this.

One deep breath, then two before I’m following in my mother’s footsteps. By the time I make it to her, she’s already got the little card pulled out and ready for me.

“I can give her a call for you if you’d like,” she offers.

“No thanks,” I tell her, reaching for the card. “I’ve got to make plans around my work schedule and everything. If she’s even got any open apartments.”

I ignore the disappointed expression that crosses her face at not being in control, but she hands me the small card as she says, “I’m glad you’re taking this step, Imogene. Your father and I aren’t getting any younger and there were things we were wanting to do after he retired and we weren’t having to take care of you and your sister.”

Barely containing the venom in my voice, I reply, “Don’t worry, Mother. I’m making things happen to move out from under your roof and remove myself from being your burden.”

By the time she’s come to her senses and is calling out my name, I’m already walking away.

“I’ll give your index card back after work,” I call over my shoulder.

There’s a grim satisfaction that fills me when I slam the front door on her screech, “Imogene!”

A few hours later, I’m shooting our customer the biggest fake smile I’m able to as she talks about her cat that had to go into the vet this week.

“Four hundred and fifty-two dollars,” she tells me while I’m counting her cash for her withdrawal. “They must think money grows on trees for us old people. Poor little Minnie, though. I guess that’s the cost we pay for someone we love, huh?”

I give her a short nod while placing the bills in her hand, and Jolene saves me from a real response as she lays her paperback face down on the counter in front of her and addresses the woman. “That’s the little black one with white sock feet, isn’t it?”

Excitement lights the customer’s face with a huge smile. “That’s her. I was tempted to name her socks, but she stole this little mouse toy from my granddaughter when she was visiting. From there we just started calling her Minnie.”

“Yeah, I remember you telling me that story.” Jolene grins, eyes crinkling behind her glasses. “I’m glad to hear she’s on the mend. I’ll try to remember to bring her some treats for the next time we see you.”

“Aw, honey, you’re just the sweetest,” she says, patting my hand like I’m the one making conversation with her. “I just love coming here. You always make my day.”

She’s shuffling away before Jolene turns her body to face me from where she sits on the stool. “Taylor Trust is down to being a small fry in a growing industry. It makes them feel special enough to stick with us despite the better options out there if we make it personal for them.”

I know I’m not being chastised but it still kind of feels that way. Maybe it’s just guilt, but I get the hint.

“Sorry,” I tell her, “I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately.”

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