Your Love is Enough

4

"Double shifts again?" Dell whines. "We never hang out anymore."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You know that if you ever need-"

"I'm not taking your money."

He sighs. "Fine. But my offer always stands. You should get a better paying job."

"This one pays well enough, I just have to pay off a bill."

I'm on a short break at work, sipping a cup of coffee in the break room while Dell complains.

Dell is my best friend. He knows about my family, and George's struggles, and why I'm always working. I know he understands, but sometimes his complaints hurt, just a little bit.

I woke up before George and Blair this morning, and made breakfast for the two of them before I had to leave. I left a note, like usual, and told them I wouldn't be back until late. I reminded George to take his medicine, and to text me when he got to work. He should be able to bring Blair, unless they have things to do today.

It's occurred to me that Blair could be a serial killer. I know trusting someone in our home is risky, but I have to hope it'll be okay.

------------------------

"Fred! Hey, wait!"

I turn to see Harry, a man I work with, trying to catch the elevator. I hold my hand over the door so he makes it.

"Thanks." He says, smoothing the tiny twists on his head back. He has hazel skin, and dark eyes. His folder is stuffed with papers, and he looks so out of place in this workspace, I can't help but pity him a bit.

"You should organize your folder." I tell him. "The boss'll get onto you."

"I know, I know. I'm no good at organizing things."

"At least get a binder, then it won't look so messy." I try to say it kindly, so he doesn't think I'm being rude. He nods passionately at what I say, though, so I assume it's not a problem.

The elevator stops on the first floor, and the doors slide open. I give him a smile, then start to leave.

"Wait!"

I turn. He looks nervous, and fiddles with the folder. "Yes?"

"Do you think—Do you think you could help me sometime? Organize it?"

"Help you?" I repeat.

"Yeah." He bites his lip. "Like...over dinner or something."

Fuck. Is he asking me to go on a date?

I process this. I don't think anyone's asked me out since middle school. And even so, I've been so busy, I wouldn't of had time. And it's not like I know him all that well. I've seen him in the office, and sometimes we've talked in the break room, but getting to know him better would be...nice.

He's waiting expectantly for an answer.

"Um...that would be nice. But I don't know when I'll be free. I'm working double shifts for a while."

"Well—whenever you're free. Here—"

He digs in his pocket for a scrap of paper, and pushes it into my hand.

"My number. If you want to text me."

I smile. "Thanks."

As I'm leaving I see him squealing to the secretary, who laughs and high-fives him. Has he been wanting to ask for a while?