Cut My Lip

Nineteen

I'd been home for two weeks, and I'd found a third job again. I needed to keep myself distracted as much as possible.

I knew I was overworking myself, and I knew I was losing way too much weight and not sleeping anywhere near enough, but I was always feeling too sick to want to hurt myself.

But I just keep volunteering myself for overtime and taking shifts for coworkers that couldn't make it. I'd nearly collapsed multiple times, but I refused to take any work off.

After all, me being at work was beneficial. I made extra money, Darry and I could start saving for our wedding, none of us had to get secondhand clothes, and I was always distracted.

"Jan, do you think injecting caffeine straight into my veins would kill me, or keep me goin'?" I asked while I was on break at the library.

She thought for a moment as she took a sip of coffee. "Neither...?"

"That's disappointing." I said, glancing at her over the rim of my coffee mug.

.

For three months, I continued like this. I was barely sleeping, barely eating, barely home.

"Annie, you look like literal hell. You have to quit one of your jobs. Or two. You need to get some sleep." Darry said, and I brushed him off.

"I'm fine, alright? Stop worryin' so much."

"Annie, come on. Please. This is gonna kill you." He begged. "Please?"

I tried to get past him, but he wouldn't let me through the door.

"Darrel. Move." I commanded, but he stood his ground. "C'mon, I gotta get to work."

"No. This is for your own good."

"It is not! It's not doing anything but pissing me off!"

"Alright, fine! If you want to work yourself to death, then go!" He moved out of my way, but I was suddenly hesitant. I really was working myself to death, wasn't I? I'd been avoiding all my friends and my fiancé for nothing.

"I'm sorry, Darry." I sighed. "You're right."

"I know."

"Alright, then I'll go-"

"Wait!" He grabbed my hand and I smiled slightly. "You gotta promise me you'll quit one of your jobs, alright?"

"I promise."

"Or two of them...?"

"I'll consider it. But probably not."

.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Darry was watching me to make sure I was actually eating and getting rest.

"Annie! I'm getting a job!" Dally yelled, bursting into our house on one Saturday morning.

"Oh, good for you! What is it?" I asked.

"Dallas, you are not being a stripper!" Two-Bit shouted, coming in a moment later. I started laughing so hard I almost fell down. Johnny was sulking at the kitchen table, Soda was actually on the floor he was laughing so hard, Pony was trying to hide it, and Steve looked unbothered.

"Babe, I'm not being a stripper," He said to Johnny.

"Dally's a stripper?" Darry asked, coming in from the backyard. He looked Dally up and down. "Huh, I always thought it'd be Soda."

"Damn straight it'd be me!" Soda said, looking offended.

"Nobody is becoming a stripper!" Pony exclaimed. "Well, not me, Soda, Johnny, or Steve, we're all underage."

"See? Pony gets it. Good kid, Pony." Darry said, messing up his hair.