“You’re back,” she says, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch and running her fingers through her greasy hair. “How was your first day?”
I frown at her. I haven’t mentioned the job to either of my parents, and for good reason. If they found out what I wasearning, they’d want a cut of it, and every penny is going toward saving for Annabelle’s treatment.
I glance at my sister, who gives me a guilty look. She must have been the one to tell Mom about the job.
“Good,” I reply simply. “You want some food?”
“Yes, please.”
Rising, she stretches her arms high in the air, showing off the coiling leaves of the tattoo that runs up her side. Yawning widely, she heads toward her bedroom.
“I’m gonna shower.”
She wanders away, already stripping off her top as she heads to the bathroom. She makes no attempt to clean up after herself and drops her top in the hallway for me to pick up later.
“Go sit down, Annie,” I say resignedly. “I’ll make you some food. You want spaghetti?”
Her eyes light up. “Yes! Are you sure you’re not too tired? How was it today?”
She sits on the barstool, her headphones around her neck. She looks impossibly young as I start to pull out the ingredients I need.
I’m wishing now I had grabbed another portion of food from the restaurant at lunch but I felt too much like a pig to do it.
The refrigerator is sparse, to say the least, but I think I can still whip something up. I’ll need to go shopping tomorrow. Usually, that would fill me with worry, as I squeeze it in around early shifts and sometimes a night shift, too, but with this job, it feels like I have hours to spare.
I fry some onions, searching for anything else I can use, and find some tomatoes at the back of the drawer. Slicing them, I look up to see Annabelle watching me expectantly.
My day was good. I got fucked and did some printing.
“It was okay. How was yours?”
“Nope!” she says, miming a zip over her lips. “You always ask about me, and this time I want to know everything about your first day at your swanky job. What’s Crawford like?”
Enormous.
“He seems okay. I didn’t see him much. He walked by my desk a few times looking very important and barked at me to hand him some files. Otherwise, I spent the day getting used to his schedule.”
“Is he super busy?”
“He had three meetings side by side today. Apparently, he sometimes does two calls at the same time.”
“How?”
“Beats me!”
Annabelle laughs as I throw the onions into the pan and place the spaghetti on to boil.
“So, what did you spend the day doing?” she asks.
“Mainly setting him up with packs for his meetings. It doesn’t seem too complicated, so far.”
“What’s the office like?”
“Huge. I’ll try to take a picture for you tomorrow.”
“Yes, please! I hope I can get a job one day. Once I’m feeling better, I might ask Mom about waitressing at her place.”
“That’s a great idea,” I lie, keeping my voice as bright and upbeat as possible, but I know Annabelle won’t be able to do a job like that for a long while.
