What the fuck does that mean?
“But you gotta keep your nose clean for a while. Very clean.”
“And what if those guys come back?”
Bob swallows. “You could try being more cooperative with the police. Maybe pressing charges, handing over names, addresses.…”
I shake my head before he even stops speaking. “I can’t do that. They know where I live. Where my ma works, where my sister goes to school.…”
“Evan, if these guys are really that dangerous, then you should report them.”
“It’s not about that. They’re just idiots. But idiots can hurt people. And I won’t risk my ma and Stacie getting hurt for my stupid mistakes.”
Bob frowns and clasps his hands over his belly. “What do you mean? What mistakes?”
I shake my head. This guy is my boss. I can’t tell him half of what I’ve done. I’d be fired on the spot if he ever found out I brought anything illegal into the warehouse. He sits up with a sigh, letting his hands drop. “Evan, I’m going to do everything I can. I know how much you need this job. And I know your mother. I know how tough your dad’s death has been on you all, and his illness … ”
I try to tune his voice out. Anyone talking about my dad feels like nails being drilled into my head. I thought I’d gotten so good at tuning it out—but it’s so loud right now. It feels like everything is closing in on me. Like I’m letting my dad down. Letting my ma and Stacie down. If he were here, if he’d never gotten sick, he wouldn’t have let us get to this point. He’d make it better. He could fix anything.…
“Evan? Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine.” I shake my head, the world coming back in sudden, vivid clarity. “I’ll keep my nose clean. You’re right, I really need this job.”
I’m not even thinking about the application form until I’m about to leave the office and Bob calls me back. That apologetic look on his face is even more intense now.
“What is it?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to hold out on applyingfor the electrician course. Employees under disciplinary action aren’t allowed to apply for education and training programs.”
I tense my jaw. “It’s fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You can apply once your disciplinary’s gone through … ” I turn around and leave before I can say something I might regret, rushing to the bathroom before anyone can stop me.
I feel like screaming. I need to hit something. I pull the form out of my pocket instead. Glance at the questions I spent ages answering at the kitchen table last night while Ma hovered excitedly around me, pretending to wash dishes while peering over my shoulder and reminding me of all my good qualities. The action of ripping it to pieces is satisfying at first. I rip it until its unrecognizable and then kick the pieces under my heavy boots. But it’s not enough.
When Ivan—the forklift truck driver—comes in I’m in the process of bloodying my knuckles on the stall door. I stop what I’m doing. He studies me for a second and then walks over to the urinal and starts taking a piss. Blood trickles over my knuckles while I stand there, panting, waiting for him to leave.
“Want me to help you tidy up in here?” he asks, gesturing to the pieces of application form shredded all over the dirty tiles.
I shake my head. If I try to speak right now, I’m gonna cry. And that’s the last thing I need.
Ivan shrugs before heading back out onto the floor. I take a shaky breath before bending down to pick up my mess.
The first fewtimes I walked out of work after leaving Nate that day, I kept expecting to find his SUV parked upwhen I came out the back door. I told myself I was relieved when I didn’t, but my heart sinks when I don’t find it here now.
I’m doing the right thing,I remind myself.Nate deserves so much better than what you can give him.
But fuck me, I could do with seeing him right now. More than ever. And yet, I’m even more of a loser now than I was a week ago, two weeks ago. Five years ago.
Ma’sstill up when I get home. She’s sitting at the kitchen table and I swear I smell cigarette smoke in the air.
She looks tired. Dark rings around her eyes. She glances up at me when I walk into the room.
“What are you still doing up? It’s late.”
“Sorry, Ma,” she says, flashing me a weak smile.
I sit down at the table and put my hand out to her and she squeezes it with both of hers.
