Catch Me When I Fall

Passive Thoughts

"Thank you for calling Dollar-Mart. This is Assistant Manager Karla, how can I help you today?" She answered the phone in the fake customer-service voice she used only at work. Those who knew her heard her real tone of voice, an octave lower, a little coarse, and had a laugh that earned her the nickname "Dr. Evil" by her small circle of friends. "Reghan, yes, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Karla, I have a few extra people I don't know what to do with. Your store is always a few hands short, right?" Rhegan asked in a tone that was condescendingly sweet.

Karla gave a weak chuckle, taken aback by the tone of the call, "It's Stephen's store, technically. I just do everything he's supposed to do while he sits on his ass in the office," she rolled her eyes.

"I only called to talk to you because if I asked Stephen, he would 'look into it' for months. If I want something done, you're the gal I want to talk to."

"Um, thanks, I guess?"

"So do you want them or not? I can call Andy if your coordinator is cutting hours."

"Alright," Karla sighed, "who do you have?"

"I have Anna. She's currently in receiving, but she could be pretty versatile anywhere on the sales floor." Reghan offered the first candidate.

"How is she with freight?" Karla asked, starting to jot down the names and possible placements of the people looking to transfer.

"Truthfully, she's more of a yapper than a freight mover. She's a real sweetheart, though! Personable with customers."

"Alright, next?" Karla was eager to be done with this conversation and move on with her day.

"I have Drew, he's just a cart pusher, but who doesn't need more cart pushers at the good ol' Dollar World?"

"Why don't you keep him if that's the case?"

"I have plenty. Our store isn't as high-volume as yours is, I can have the cashiers push in a few carts here and there while they twiddle their thumbs," Reghan said airily.

Reghan was right, her store only did maybe a few hundred thousand dollars in sales a week. Whereas Karla's did at least one hundred thousand a day during the summer. She really couldn't afford to be too picky; she also had one of her cart pushers go on short-term disability after getting heatstroke last month. "That's true," she muttered, writing down the vague details about Drew. "I could actually use him if he is truly interested in transferring to a bigger store."

"He seemed very eager for a change. He's a good worker; it'll be hard to let him go, but I'm sure he'll be able to keep busy at your store," she laughed.

Karla forced a laugh to match Reghan's. "Anyone else who is interested?"

"I think that's all I have who are willing to transfer without a pay increase, that is."

"Glad they're being good sports about it," her voice was slightly flat as she started doodling on the notepad she had in front of her. "Give me their numbers, and I'll reach out to the two of them to set up entrance interviews, see if they're a good fit."

***

Trying to type out the freight plan for the overnight stockers, Karla's phone began to vibrate on her desk. Glancing over, she saw Ricky's name on the screen. Rolling her eyes, she took a breath before answering his call, "Hey, honey, everything okay?" She knew she was going to catch hell for working late again.

"I thought you were done at 4? It's 4:36." Ricky sounded inconvenienced by her tardiness, not that they had plans, or he had a schedule to keep.

"I'm just writing the freight plan for tonight, and then I'm going to be done. Ronaldo got caught up doing whatever and asked if I would do it quick before I left," She explained, pinching the bridge of her nose, already mentally preparing for the silent treatment when she got home.

"You could have sent me a message saying you were staying late. I thought something had happened; your Maps didn't update, saying you were on the way home."

"I'm sorry, I—"

He cut her off, "Whatever. Glad you're okay. See you if you ever decide to come home." The line went dead before Karla could offer a response.

Karla scoffed, locking her phone screen before tossing it back on the desk, frustrated. Why is he up my ass for working over 30 minutes? What's he going to say when I come home? She put her head in her hands as her thoughts swirled. Sending off the freight plan via email, she snatched up her purse before leaving for the day.

Her drive home was anything but peaceful; so lost in thought, she didn't even notice her phone's Bluetooth hadn't connected to the aftermarket radio she had fumbled through installing herself after Ricky kept putting it off. I wonder what would happen if I sent my truck over the overpass? Would I survive the crash, or finally die? The intrusive thoughts crept into her mind as she turned onto the highway. Heel to the clutch, foot to the gas, she shifted through the gears until she was in fifth, now able to cruise without shifting the transmission anymore. Clipping past the guardrail she thought about driving off almost daily so she wouldn't have to go home; she offered it a glance before returning her gaze to the road in front of her. Looking down at the speedometer, she was going almost 80 miles per hour. Instead of letting off the gas pedal, she extended her ankle further, her foot to the floor as the old truck took its time to increase speed.

Seeing the needle creep up towards 90, Karla took a deep breath before slowly taking her hands off the steering wheel as she closed her eyes. The motor of the old Chevy rumbled familiarly; part of the exhaust had rusted off, causing it to sound louder than it actually was. The vehicle, being well over 20 years old, didn't take much time for the misaligned front end to cause it to pull slightly to the right towards the shoulder of the road. Hearing the tires hit the rumble strips, Karla opened her eyes for just a moment, contemplating whether she should take the wheel back or not. Sighing, she took her foot off the gas to coast as she put her hands on the wheel once more, correcting the steering back onto the road. Someday, but not today.

Pulling into the driveway of the rented home Karla primarily paid for, she noticed Ricky had taken out the garbage, leaving it on the porch for her to bring to the can that was just down the stairs from the deck. Sighing, she took the trash, brought it down the 4 steps to put it into the blue can that was overfilled because Ricky kept forgetting what day trash day was. Reaching for the handle, she went to push the door open, but noticed it was locked. Pursing her lips and biting her tongue, she shuffled her empty coffee cup and purse to get the keys to unlock the door. Pushing the door open, Karla smelled the remnants of microwave popcorn in the air. "Ricky, I'm home, Bubba." She called out to no one, hearing him talking loudly with his friends as he played with them online. Greeted only by their ragdoll cat, Merry, as she rubbed up against Karla's leg.