The clock just flipped over to twelve, making it officially April 11th. I head back to the Trading Post in thirty days, on May 11th. I think I can last that long.
Some of it's going to be uncomfortable, though. The first time Stewart and I were at the theater together, everyone could tell something was off. Neither of us said anything, but by the end of the shift, I could tell that the staff was whispering. Uncomfortable.
The next day, it got worse. I was closing Sunday night, so at around quarter past ten I was up in the lobby, cashing the box office and concession stand out when Ted, one of the college kids, asks if I need anything else, uh-huh, uh-huh. I gave him a disgusted look, and he said that he'd heard that was how you get the better shifts. I said if he wasn't careful, it's how he'd get fired.
I suppose there's not much I could do to enforce it, but apparently the look on my face was serious enough, because he dropped it and walked away. Still, I felt uncomfortable - what was I going to do if he pushed it?
I thought about it as I walked home. Ray was asleep in front of the television (the Red Sox were the ESPN Sunday night game), so I tiptoed into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed my face and changed into an oversized t-shirt. I wanted to get right to sleep, so I moved over to the television and switched it off. Ray fidgeted a little at that, but didn't follow me into bed for a few minutes. He must have been able to read my body language, because when he got into bed, he kissed me on the cheek and asked what was wrong. I told him that even if I was just reaping what I'd sowed, it still felt pretty lousy to have some 19-year-old boy call you a slut.
He gave me a squeeze and told me I didn't deserve that. That's nice, I say, but it's been a long time coming, and I'll just have to deal with it, adding "for another month" to myself. He said I should quit that job, and I kind of laughed, saying it hardly seemed appropriate for me to live off his income considering where "we" were. Well, he said, you should think about it.
I have to admit, I have been thinking about it, but I won't actually do it. Not my place, although I'm certain it'll be going into the letter I give to Liz. It's a bad work situation to be in, and I know I wouldn't want any part of it.