“She never stumbles.
She’s got no place to fall”
Cynthia dumps Bobby at school. Her car pulled up to curb. Across from here, other parents line up to the schools door to drop their darlings off. She watches him crawl out. His backpack stuffed like a boy scout headed for the woods. Her motherly instinct fails to do more for him. She sighs as he moves away.
Her tired eyes blink at end of the sleeping pills. The mood is stormy at best. Her drive to work already behind. Nothing but misery awaits her.
Medical Claims. The letters, cold blue hang over the door to her personal hell. Her fingers flip ash from a half smoked cigarette. She draws a deep breath tainted with nicotine. The feelings exhale with the smoke. An automated human figure. Empty shell delaying is entrance as long as can be. Her shadow finds the door first.
“Well, how nice it is you showed up today, Cynthia! Only twenty minutes late, nice job honey. ” Dale looks her over. His eyes wrap around her. His smiling face acknowledges her thin figure, belied with small curves. The long since dyed brown ponytail shows her round face clearly. Porcelain complexion offset by dark brown eyes. The lack of expression doesn’t take away from her appearance.
“I’m here asshole. That kid had to go to school, you know. Bunch of assholes like you in front of me coming here…..you don’t have to stare at my tits! God your pathetic!” Her response comes as she walks by him. Her eyes glare briefly.
She moves past a couple desks to the back. Her little hole of darkness. An old computer screen and phone sits among the trash of her professional life.
Dale follows her with his eyes the whole way. She’s the worst employee he has ever seen. He knows she needs the job. He really knows some day, there will be no chance of keeping her. Well, there will have to be a better reason to keep her around.
The mindless calls start. “Hello. This is Cynthia from MCA. May I speak with some dumb ass deadbeat who didn’t pay for their doctor/ hospital/ medical test? Oh your cheap ass insurance was supposed to pay for all of it. Oh I guess either your an asshole with bad insurance or are you a messed up, broke down human that we wasted medical treatment on.” Every couple of minutes it starts all over. Answering machines, voice mail, busy signals are all welcome things. The pace of the day is slow.
Cynthia keeps a keen eye on the clock. Her nicotine runs low every two hours. Her body aches from the dead weight she carries inside. The excuses she hears. The bills they owe. It all helps her feel better about her self. There might be people worse off. But most days there ain’t far she can fall.
Parts 1, 2, 3 lay below.
Quote from “She Belongs to Me” by Bob Dylan