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A small glimmer of relief flashes in his eyes. “I’ll call my client and get her number. I’ll arrange everything.”
This is either the best idea ever or the worst.
4
CASSIDY
The chilled golden liquid sloshes in my glass as I take another sip of tequila. Its smooth burn travels down my throat, instantly loosening my nerves.
Today has sucked.
As did the day before and the day before that. My life has been a series of unfortunate events lately, and I don’t see a silver lining in sight.
I’ve been crashing on my friend Emma’s couch ever since I got evicted from my apartment. It’s your classic case of rent going up at the same time my salary went down. And by down, I mean it’s nonexistent. Zero. I’m unemployed.
Since I graduated from college, one thing has become clear…jobs do not come easy, despite what you’re led to believe.
I’ve been looking, but without experience, nothing comes through. The problem is, I can’t get experience if no one will hire me. Which brings me back to the here and now. Jobless. Homeless. Just…less.
The familiar taste of salt and lime brings me back to my college days. For a time, my life was easy. Or easier than normal.
With a full-ride scholarship, I made do. And that is the one silver lining if I have to find one. At least I didn’t come out of school with a lifetime’s worth of debt.
But now that I’m no longer living on the school’s dime and have no job, paying rent on the tiny apartment I had in Detroit turned out to be impossible. I’ll need to find something to make ends meet—and fast. As much as I appreciate Emma’s hospitality, I can’t make her couch my home.
It’s Friday night, and at least I have a roof over my head. For now, I’ll focus on that…and the booze gripped between my hands. Truth is, after what I’ve been through, I can live through anything.
My grip tightens as memories push through my mind.
You won’t always have someone there to protect you . . .
No. I can’t go back there. I can’t dwell on the past.
You can’t reread a chapter in a book you hate.
Closing my eyes, I remember my therapist’s prompts, then open them.
Something I can see: My drink.
Something I can smell: Also, my drink.
Something I can taste: That one makes me laugh.
All the previous thoughts and anxiety fade away.
Close call. If there is one thing I don’t want, it’s my past ruining my future.
I survived, and that’s all that matters.
The smell of popcorn fills the air as Emma walks over to join me, carrying a huge bowl of the buttery goodness in hand. She lifts an eyebrow as I bring the glass of liquor to my lips to drink my sorrows away.
“Mind if I join you?”
I place the glass on the coffee table, grab the bottle of tequila, and sweep a hand out, motioning for her to help herself to her couch.
The muted noise from the television draws my attention, but the cushion sinks as she takes a seat next to me. Both of our eyes are glued ahead. She begins flipping through the channels, which could go on for hours.
This is typical. Neither of us is good at choosing what to watch. She’ll likely still be scrolling in ten minutes. Meanwhile, I’ll be zoning out.
