Pull yourself together, man. You don’t even know the chick.
I cough and regain my composure. “Where you heading?”
“Just to the Starbucks. It’s at the bottom of this alley.”
“I’ll walk you down.”
“Umm…” her gaze floats over my shoulder and I follow where she’s looking. “Your car seems to be causing some trouble. Don’t worry about it, it’s only thirty seconds away.”
I assess the mini pile up and shrug. They can wait.
“I insist.”
We walk in uncomfortable silence to the bottom of the street. She doesn’t look up or even try to make small talk. Instead, she lets this mysterious air surround her and it’s sending my mind running a million miles a minute.
“This is me,” she points to the busy Starbucks and fiddles with her hands. “Thanks again.”
“It’s no problem.”
She shuffles from one foot to the other, and I can tell there’s something she wants to say.
“Well, I’m already late for my shift, so…”
“Right. Of course,” I manage.
Jesus. Stop making an ass out of yourself and leave the lady alone.
“See you around.”
Before she can respond, I turn around and stride back down the alley, fighting every urge in my body to turn around and get one last glance at her.
Compose yourself, Atlas. Stop acting like a little bitch.
4
Violet
My shift passed by in a blur. Even the lull we always have between the high-flyers grabbing a coffee for their evening commute and the students setting up camp for all night study sessions went by in a flash.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
No, not the mugger. But him. That… well, I can only describe him as an animal. A huge, towering beast that just appeared from nowhere.
It all happened so quickly. I’d only taken a glimpse at the knife digging into my side before my attacker was laying helplessly on the floor. The punches were so strong, and the fire burning in the beast’s eyes put the fear of god in me.
He may have looked like a man, but there was nothing human about him.
Surprisingly, my boss, Meg, was very sympathetic about my ordeal — I guess attempted robbery is a good enough excuse for being late in anyone’s books. She even ordered me an Uber home, which I’m now sitting in the back of, enjoying the warmth of the heating and the soft leather seats. It certainly beats the subway.
I gaze out of the window and let my mind wonder back to my knight in shining armor. Or should I say my knight in an expensive-looking leather jacket?
Who was he?
I was in too much shock to ask him his name — not that it matters. I’m never going to see him again, I’m sure. New York is a big city, and men like that don’t seem to just be hanging out on street corners to save waitresses like me.
“What building’s yours, miss?” the Uber driver asks as we turn onto my street in Hunts Point.
“The brown one right at the end.”
He slows the car and turns to me with an raised eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yes?”
I hear him let out a low whistle and mutter something about not letting his pet rat even live here.
Annoyed, I slam the car door a little louder than I should. If I had ordered the ride myself, I’d straight on the app to give him two stars.
Yeah, my apartment building isn’t exactly easy on the eye. The brown bricks are tagged with sprawling graffiti, and there’s an occasional window busted open. Litter occupies the stairway, and it stinks of piss and whatever drugs the crackheads on the first floor are smoking that night.
But when I burst into my studio and shut out the world, I feel a lot more relaxed.
There isn’t even enough room to swing a cat in my place, so it’s lucky I don’t have one. It may be small, but it’s mine, and I’ve done what I think is a pretty good job of making it cute. Fairy lights adorn the walls, the soft yellow glow hiding the damp spot above the kitchen unit and the cracks by my bed. I took plenty of cushions form my old marital home to hide the stains on the sofa, and I even have a big fluffy rug that once belonged to my mom.
She died in childbirth, but every time I slip off my shoes and rub my aching feet into the shaggy pile, I always feel like I’m close to her.
Before I can sit down and relax though, I have to go through my nightly routine. It starts with going through the wedge of letters that are slipped under my door.
Bills, bills, bills. Obviously.
A few have Urgent stamped across the envelope, some even say Do Not Ignore.
But when there’s only $7.50 in my bank account until I get paid next week, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.
I toss the usual letters to the side, making a mental note to put them in the recycling. Flicking through the rest of the pile, I find one addressed to my ex-husband.
Mr. Mikos.
With a sigh, I rip it open and skim read the letter.
“Bastard,” I mutter as I realize he’s given my new address to another one of these loans companies.
I haven’t seen or heard from the asshole in over a year. It took me six whole months to get a divorce without him there to sign anything. I even know if he’s in New York, let alone in the country. Yet somehow, that crazy alcoholic, gambling-addict prick has managed to find out where I’m living, and keeps directing his debt collectors here.
These ‘added interest’ threats and repossession warnings get dropped through my letter box around once a week. The amounts get higher and higher each time, and when I call up them up, the miserable voices on the other end of the lines don’t want to listen.
So what can I do?
I angrily tear the letter in half. If I don’t have it, they can’t have it.
Picking up the final thick brown envelope, I pray for good news. Flipping it over, I see it’s from my college.
My heart begins to race. I’ve started nursing school at PACE University and have just finished my first semester. I tear it open and skim through.
The typed text instantly makes me feel sick.
Dear Miss. Violet Washington,
We are writing to inform you that the fees for your second semester at PACE University are still outstanding.
Blood rushes to my head, and I resist the urge to well up.
I’d just about scraped together the fees for the first semester, and in between moving apartments and unexpected bills, I haven’t quite been able to pay for the second term yet. It’s a real big college… I was kind of hoping I’d get lost in their system and I’d have the funds to pay it by the time it caught up with me.
…if we don’t receive payment from you by the 1st of the month, we unfortunately will have to terminate your studies.
I close my eyes and take deep breaths.
Stay positive, Violet. Everything works out eventually.
If I think too much about my hardship, I’ll end up crying. And I don’t have time to cry. Not when there’s a whole load of washing that needs to be done by hand, and when I have to iron my uniform for tomorrow, as well as find some time to eat my ramen.