Hate Thy Neighbor - S.M. Soto Page 0,97

stand under the awning of the roof, staring at my car in the dark parking lot, that’s illuminated by the glow of a yellow streetlamp. I didn’t know rain was in the forecast today, but I should’ve figured. When it rains, it pours, and it’s definitely pouring right now.

Using my purse as a shield, I brave the rain, running across the parking lot to my car. My body is shivering, my teeth are chattering, and my dress and hair are already soaked to shit by the time I’m inside. The fabric of my dress squelches against the now damp leather seats, and the water sticks to my thighs in the most uncomfortable way.

I feel a weight lift off my chest, as I pull out of the clinic parking lot. I don’t know how much more of this I can handle. What if today with Travis wasn’t the worst of it? What am I going to do then? And now that his father wants to have a conversation with me in private, I can only expect the worst. He’s probably going to fire me for being unprofessional.

Sadness clogs my throat. I’ve made friends here. Atticus is the sarcastic prankster who is never not in a good mood. Lucy, though she has her own faults, is as sweet as pie. Kassandra has the best sense of humor and the biggest backbone on the planet. She claims it’s all in her “black girl magic,” but really, it’s her heart. She’s the one I’ll miss the most, if I have to leave.

Do I really want to go job hunting all over again? And Samuel, what will he think if I complain to him about his son? Will he think of me as some hussy, just trying to get a leg up? I cringe thinking about the compromising position he found me in the other day. A position I didn’t even want to be in.

I’m a little less than halfway home when, through the windshield wipers, I see smoke billowing from under the hood of my car. My eyes widen, and I pause, as dread takes root in my belly.

“No, no, no, no.”

The car sputters, and with no other choice, I pull onto the side of the road, letting it coast down one of the side streets downtown. Turning off the ignition, I hop out, getting soaked all over again. The smoke is still billowing from under the hood, and when I try to lift it, I burn the tips of my fingers in the process. Letting out a curse, I hop back into the car and slam the door. I deflate against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the car. There’s no way this is happening to me. Not today. Not after everything.

With a frustrated growl, I dig into my purse for my phone, so I can call the insurance or a tow company. Anything to help get me home. I swipe my finger across the screen. I press the power button and nothing.

Nothing.

An overwhelming wave of emotion slams into me. Tears spring to my eyes, and my bottom lip trembles. My car won’t start, my phone is dead, and it’s pouring down rain outside. I quite literally have no way to get home.

I bang my head against the steering wheel, hating that this is my predicament. I shouldn’t have yelled at my mother this morning. Because now? My pride won’t allow me to run to them for help—not that I’d be able to anyway. It’s nearly eight p.m., and unless I want to risk walking alone at night, I’ll need a tow truck to, hopefully, give me a ride to the nearest garage. Only, I can’t call for any of those things because my phone is dead.

I war with the decisions in my mind. I can either stay in the car until the rain clears, or I can get out now and try to find a phone, or my last, and final, option is just to walk home. I still have about a twenty-minute car ride to my house. I can’t imagine how long that will take me on foot. In wedges, no less. Grabbing my purse and useless phone, I hop out of the car, locking it behind me, as I trek up the street, the way I normally would if I was driving home.

Settling my bag over my head, I try to shield most of the rain, but it isn’t very much help. It adds an extra five pounds

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