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I get back into my work groove

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I get back into my work groove. I have loads of vacation days and a valid excuse to call off. Yet I don't want to be at home like a beached whale. Also, I need more than movies to keep me occupied. Time goes fast when you're busy. Being active is better than stuffing my face and watching TV. On my way out to work, Lil, who washes the dishes, asks, "are you sure you want to go back? We have emergency days."

"I'm sure." I open the door.

"Are you taking a ride?"

"I'm walking."

"How about on the way home?"

I face the kitchen, pulling my thumb holes farther down my hands. "I'll walk."

"At night? By yourself?" She steps into the bedroom and crosses her arms.

"I'll be careful."

"You could ask Brad for a ride," Lil says with an edge to her voice. She's sour about me talking to him again.

"I..." I pull at the thumb holes. "I can't do a car...I can't." I admit drearily.

Lily drops her arms and comes to hug me. "Aww..." Her hands rub down my forearms. "Sorry...I wasn't thinking. How about you give me 15, and we both walk? How about that?"

"That works."

"Okay, I'll get ready." She goes to my closet. "There's pepper spray in my bag, in the side pouch."

I eye her gym bag of clothes at the foot of the bed, then go to unzip the pouch. The long, black sprayer has a clip on the end. I add it to my dress pants loop. I used to hate these trousers for eliminating my hips and ass, but now I don't care. My sex appeal is buried six feet below...along with my past self.

I follow orders at work like a robot. My witty and engaging demeanor is no more. I simply serve and repeat two phrases in a bland tone. "Hello, what drink would you like?" and "thank you, have a nice day." All the advances from men are given no response, no raunchy retort or playful flirting. I'm a simple bartender who zips through orders faster than usual. My lackluster mood is obvious to all around me. Lily even notes my detachment.

There are sympathetic stares from everyone in the banquet hall whenever they look my way. There's pity, sadness, and shame in all of their eyes. Everyone knows who I am...and what happened. I can't escape it. I decide to skip lunch and head out for a walk to avoid the overbearing gazes from everyone.

I turn the knob of the main door, wishing for nothing more than to disappear. "Madison, wait up." Sam summons me to the receptionist's desk. I glide over stiffly. "Umm...we all put something together for you. For, you know..." He scratches the back of his head and retrieves a tip jar from under the desk. "Everyone pitched in...I know it's not much."

"No, it's perfect. You guys didn't have to." I express gratefully.

"It's the least we could do." He drops his hand from his brown hair. "I'm sorry about all my joking. If it's offensive now, I'll stop..."

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