Work is quiet, thank goodness. Ray is strangely sympathetic to her condition even though it makes her work at the pace of a pregnant sloth. He even makes her a fresh mint and ginger tea he swears by.
She sips its soothing warmth and feels her stomach start to calm. "This is about the only thing my body hasn't rejected today," she says, slumping by the coffee machine, chin on her arms.
"Ultimate hangover cure. I used to make it for my mom every Saturday morning."
"Sounds like we might have similar mothers."
"No way, man. I remember that cat story." He shakes his head. "My mom was just…sad when I was little."
"Okay, well my mom was a heinous witch." She watches him wipe down the counter, something she should probably be doing. "Why was your mom so sad?"
"I don't know." He leans against the warmth of the coffee machine. "For some reason, every Friday, she'd just settle in and drink and cry. She was fine the rest of the week, but Fridays…" He shrugs. "It was like she needed to do that to get through the rest of it."
"Sounds depressing."
"Well, I guess she was depressed." He shrugs. "I was too little to do much, and Dad didn't seems to notice, so in the mornings I'd make her this tea and we'd watch cartoons together."
"Sweet." Maybe this is why Lauren felt comfortable telling Ray about her mother. They've both been there. "I'd make my mom black coffee and then she'd make me sit there and circle lamps and new blouses in all the department store catalogues with her. She was a full-timer, too. Weekdays, weeknights, they all contained opportunities for Jeannie Bloom to drink." She raises her hand. "By the way, I'm not trying to say I had it worse."
"I know. More just saying that our lives were exactly the same but not even close."
"Something like that."
"That's why I never drink. Don't want to end up like that."
Lauren doesn't answer.
On break, she goes out to her spot in the back courtyard with a turkey sandwich she has no plans to eat.
"Puss! Puss!" she calls into the darkness. "Come here, kitty."
Nothing.
She hunts around among the broken furniture and stack of wood, looking for signs of the food she left two night ago. Nothing. But she hasn't seen the cat either for a few days, either. It had gotten a little braver lately, too, coming up to eat as long as Lauren stays in her spot on the other side of the courtyard. Still, though, the slightest move sends the skittish little thing bolting out of the yard.
She puts the sandwich down on a crate and climbs halfway up the fence, peering over into the lot next door. There's a scuttling sound, but it's too small to be the cat. A rat probably. She shivers and jumps down, jamming her toe against an abandoned tire as she lands. "Ouch," she mumbles, hopping and clutching her foot. And because she possesses no coordination, this makes her lose her balance and veer sideways, knocking her elbow into the fence with a loud thud. "Shit!"
A voice comes out of nowhere. "Are you okay?"
She whips her head up and peers across the dimly lit courtyard. It's Leyla, standing by the back door, hands deep in her pockets.
"Is this a thing, now?" Lauren grumbles, limping out of the rubble. "Every time I find myself in a super awkward situation, you're just going to happen to be there?"
Leyla laughs softly. "I hope not. "
"Yeah, well me too." Lauren grabs at her sore elbow. "Are you here to rub in my little humiliation from this morning?"
"Of course not. More the opposite, but it might be going badly." She smiles and pulls a small bundle out of her pocket. "Your boss told me you were out here. I just came by to drop off these."
"What are they?" Lauren mutters, rubbing at her elbow. There's going to be a corker of a bruise tomorrow.
"Flash cards. Fluid mosaic model and the next few cellular bio topics. Helen said the test was this week, so I thought I better get them to you."
"Oh, thanks." Lauren reaches for them with her good arm. She examines the neat, looping writing on the top card. "Sorry if I was kind of rude this morning."
"Kind of?" Leyla has this way of smiling at you that's part warm, but part teasing. Lauren is never sure how to take it. "Sorry if Raf was rude."
"Is he your boyfriend?" she asks, picking up the sandwich and throwing a piece of turkey on the ground.
She laughs. "No. He's my friend. My obnoxious friend."
"I think I might be my friend's obnoxious friend, too." Lauren says, thinking of Helen.
"Everybody needs one, I guess?" Leyla says doubtfully.
They stand there a moment, just looking at each other.
"Okay, well," Leyla finally says, jamming her hands back in her pockets. "I'll leave you to…whatever it is you're doing."
"I was actually cat hunting—not just rooting around in the trash, by the way."
"Because that's less weird?" There's that smile again.
"Kind of." She tells Leyla about the little stray cat.
"Well, I hope you find it." This time her smile is just warm. "I'll see you, Lauren."
"See you, Leyla."
Instead of going inside, Lauren perches on her crate and pulls out her phone. I'm sorry for being a bitch, she writes.
It doesn't take long for Helen to answer. That's okay.
No, really, I was rude. Shame spirals make me cranky.
Just shame spirals, huh?
Very funny.
But are you okay?
I'm fine.
So, we're back at fine?
No, I just am. And she is. For now. She looks at the neatly written cards held together by a piece of string. Whatever misery she felt like she was teetering on the brink of all day seems to have gone into hiding. Where she likes it most.