Fallen Woman(4)
My heart told me she was a blessing.
“Gianna, what time you gotta be to work?”
I sighed. She knew she had me. I needed her, and from the look in her eyes, she needed me too, but I didn’t know why. Maybe kids made her feel youthful or wanted. Or possibly just gave her purpose. Whatever it was, we needed each other.
We confirmed the details for next week, but when I told her I wouldn’t be able to pay her until I got my first check, she adamantly refused any compensation. I finally relented but knew there was no way I could let that go. I’d figure out a way to reimburse her, but for right now, she’d saved my butt, and my kids were thrilled to meet Derrick, her grandson.
Chapter Two
Monday morning was a blur. We stopped first at Miss Pearl’s apartment next door. I’d tried to compile something resembling a lunch for Trace, Megan, and Emmy, but it would be painfully obvious to my neighbor how bad my circumstances were when she saw the crackers and applesauce. Just as she opened the door, a black streak flew past her and into the breezeway. Batman, also known as Derrick, whirled into our lives, and Trace instantly had a new best friend.
Derrick had no qualms about befriending my son; he didn’t bother scoping Trace out. He simply extended his friendship in true boy fashion. “Wanna be Spiderman? I got my other costume here.” My son looked at me for permission, and I nodded. They took off like thieves in the night, leaving us standing outside.
I gave the girls hugs and handed Miss Pearl my meager bag of food. She took it but told me in her own way that I didn’t need to bring any more. “I love to cook, Gianna, and your girls are going to love learning. We’ve got lunch covered.”
I refused to feel shame. It stung to know I couldn’t feed my own children, but I had more issues to deal with than just room and board. Medical expenses were eating me alive. I knew if I ever had the chance, I’d help someone the same way Miss Pearl was helping me. So I straightened my spine, gave her a gentle nod, and thanked her with a kiss on the cheek. I wished this woman was my grandmother.
“Shoo. Go on. You need to gets to work.” Her thin hands waved at me to go, so I did with a giggle.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I called over my shoulder and then hustled to the bus stop. I got there just in time to make the ride.
Ryan always told me to dress for the job I wanted, not the job I had, so that’s precisely what I’d done for my first day. I had on a beautiful brown and gold silk blouse and trousers that matched. It was comfortable, and I felt like a million bucks in five-year-old clothes, but by lunch time, I was ready to cry. I hadn’t worn heels for this long in years, and no one told me working in the mailroom meant standing to sort mail. I spent the afternoon walking all over the twenty floors of Faston Corporation delivering it. It didn’t matter how fantastic I looked because every step I took made me cringe on the inside.
At noon, my boss dismissed me for an hour lunch break that hadn’t come a minute too soon. When I found the cafeteria, I dug around in my purse and pulled out a quarter to buy a cup of ice. With my purchase in hand, I went to the lobby and tucked myself into one of the chairs in the corner facing a wall. Angry red blisters screamed at me for attention when I eased my shoes off. After tucking several pieces of the ice in a few napkins, I held it on my raw feet. I leaned back with my eyes closed and hoped the cold would numb the pain.
I felt his presence before he spoke but refused to open my eyes, hoping whoever was at my side would leave peacefully. No such luck.
“First day on the job?” The words were like velvet caressing my skin—warm and smooth like a shot of thirty-year-old scotch.
I peeked through my eyelids to find the gorgeous grays I’d seen after my interview and offered him a weak, obligatory smile, but nothing inviting.
He took the seat next to me. “Jase Lane.” This was the part where I gave him my name and prayed he’d never heard of my late husband.
“Gianna LeBron,” I said as my head fell to the side to fully take him in.
He nodded, but if he knew, he gave no indication and didn’t inquire further. “So, what happened to your feet?” He pointed toward the ice currently easing the pain on my heel.
“The mailroom.”
“Ahh. Standing in heels, huh? Have you never worked in a mailroom?”
Embarrassed, I shook my head.
“Well, Gianna. Make sure you put something on those blisters tonight when you get home and wear flats tomorrow.” He winked at me as he stood and gave me half a sultry grin. I’m sure he did well with the ladies, and had I been interested, he might have caught my attention, but the moment any man found out the gravity of my situation, he’d run for the hills—especially one like Jase Lane.
I waved him off and closed my eyes for the remainder of my break. I prayed I’d be able to make it through the rest of the day.
Luckily, the second half of my shift flew by as I met new people and delivered packages and letters to different floors. Walking was much easier than standing in one place, or maybe it was the conversation that helped me forget the burning pain as my flesh tore open—either way, at 4:45 pm, I had finished my first round and returned to my floor. I put my cart away, cleaned up my station, and beelined for my locker at five o’clock on the dot. When I opened the door to grab my purse, a Faston Corporation envelope floated to the ground. My head turned left, then right, but there was no one else around when I picked up the paper. Opening the envelope, a smile spread across my face, and I tucked the handful of Band-Aids into my purse.