“Thank you Mr. Wright. I have a few more interviews today and after I speak with your previous employers and references, I will be giving you a call back either way.”
“Thank you for the consideration.” I stood to shake Mr. Applewhite’s hand before leaving the small office.
Another one bites the dust. I don’t know why I bother to put Watson’s Bakery on my resume. They were not going to give me any praise. I learned that after the first interview I went to and I got a call from the owner saying that they were going to look elsewhere.
It’s been three months since Mr. and Mrs. Watson had called me into their office to ask me if I had been stealing from the register. I had been horrified when they threw out that accusation. I had worked for them for three years.
Everything had been going well until their son Leo had taken a serious interest in me. I tried to get his attention to go elsewhere, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. When I couldn’t take anymore I threatened to go to his parents to let them know what was going on and that I would be going to the police.
Leo didn’t take to kindly to my threat. He lied to his parents painting me as a thief, telling other people that I am untrustworthy. I can’t prove that it was him, but it’s too much of a coincidence that the day after I threaten him, I’m get fired.
Walking to my truck parked in front of the bakery. Something had to give. My car note was two months past due, I was two and a half months past due on my rent, my water had been cut today and my electricity cut yesterday. Yeah something really needed to give. I didn’t know where I was going to come across close to a thousand dollars. I couldn’t borrow any money because I didn’t have a job and most banks or loan places needed you to be gainfully employed. I couldn’t ask my aunt because her and my uncle were living check to check, barely making ends meet.
Sighing to myself, I drove home. I needed a game plan, but nothing came to mind. Driving the thirty minutes to my apartment, I parked before entering my building. When I made it to my door, there was a light pink slip on the door. Eviction Notice. Opening my door I walk inside. Taking a seat on my beat up couch.
Lying my head back on the couch in my dark living room, I let the pain and frustration take over. I wanted to scream and yell at the unfairness of what I was going though. I couldn’t though because there was no pint to it. It wasn’t going to put any money into my pockets. I could call my parents. Do you think they’ll even talk to you? I didn’t know the answer to my question, but I needed to try.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my phone. I wanted to laugh at the thought of my phone. It looked like something from the early nineties. It wasn’t even a flip phone, never mind touch screen. It was a prepaid phone and I tried to hold onto the little bit of minutes that I had, but this was a dire situation.
“I thought we told you to never call here again?” My mother asked after the phone rung once.
I pulled the phone away from ear and stared at it. I knew how my mother was going to be when I dialed her number. When she answered I took that as a good sign, damn had I been wrong.
“I know mother, but this is important.”
“Are you still a homosexual?” I cringed at my mother’s words.
“Yes, I still prefer men over women.”
“Then we have nothing to discuss.”
“Please mom, don’t hang up.” I pleaded, but it was already too late. I heard the beep in my ear letting me know that she disconnected the call.
Copyright © Vanessa Sims, 2015