The Dollhouse Prophet

I jolted awake, gasping for air like I had just been pulled from deep water. Cold sweat clung to my hot skin as I scrambled instinctively for my phone, which was lost somewhere in the dark sea of blankets. Guilt and panic made my stomach tight as blue pre-dawn light glowed gently from behind the curtains of my bedroom window.

I didn't need my phone to tell me what I already knew; I was late for work.

Frustrated, I growled from the back of my throat. Fucking idiot. I wanted to scream. My palm barely made contact with the glass surface of my phone before I flipped the screen towards myself. 5:23AM. I have to clock in in seven minutes. The dark screen barely stayed on long enough for me to see the time, conserving battery at 4%.

Just as quickly as I woke up, I leapt from bed. Hastily, I shoved my phone charger into yesterdays joggers. I had lost the privlege to find a new pair. Instead of brushing my hair, I opted for messy bun, which looked almost intentional. After brushing my teeth, I skedaddled out the front door with my bag and keys.

While I locked the door, I allowed myself a wistful glance at the grey minivan parked in the driveway. I'd get to work a hell of a lot quicker taking the car instead of riding Nolan's scooter but... what if there was an emergency? No. The car has to stay home with mom and baby Raimy.

Speeding down the sidewalk, I dialed the store and pressed the phone on my ear. Relief washed over me at the familiar voice who answered. "Thank you for calling Fast Fresh. This is Travis."

"Travis." I exhaled deeply. "I overslept."

"Pffft." Came Travis on the other side. "Girl."

"I know, I'm sorry." I whined. "Please, please, stay late for me?"

"Yeah, girl, I got you." Said Travis.

"Bless!" I thanked him from my chest. After shoving my phone back in my pocket, I used both hands to tightly grip the foam handle bars of the scooter. My sneaker burned rubber on the sidewalk as I propelled myself down the street like a rocket.

Cool morning air hit my face, which was hot from guilt, and my scooter clacked as it hit each bump on the sidewalk.

How could I keep sleeping through my alarms? Travis has covered my ass several times but... he shouldn't have to. Our boss, Hassan, has already given me two verbal warnings based on my attendance. I couldn't believe this was happening again...

It was Saturday. Contrary to weekday mornings, the cars that passed me were few and far between. I skirted around a corner, taking a shortcut through a park, shaving off valuable seconds. The sprinklers were on in the early morning, and usually I went around the park just to avoid them, but today I lost that luxury. Icy water sprayed me uncomfortably as I jet past.

The kids didn't have school today, I realized suddenly. I could have asked my younger sister, Nyla, to drive me. For her sixteenth birthday she got her license. After she dropped me off, she could take the car back home with her. That would have solved all my problems. But in my hurry, it didn't cross my mind.

Nolan, who's ten, would just have to deal without his scooter today. He and the other neighborhood kids play together most weekends, and a pang of guilt came knowing that he would be running after his biking friends. I hope he doesn't get too upset. Maybe, if I brought him a donut after work, we could call it even.

But, honestly, I had bigger things on my mind than any little grudge he might hold against me. Six months ago, dad died suddenly of a heart attack. Not long after, driving drowsy after a grocery haul, I ran a stop sign and hit a tree after swerving from another car... which totaled my own.

At that point, my super-pregnant mom and I had no choice but to carpool in the van. Which worked well enough for a short time, actually, as we both worked in the city at neighboring call-centers. But after she had Raimy, she suffered a postpartum hemmorhage, and was left bedridden for a month.

She, thankfully, has mostly recovered. But the whole ordeal left the van more than just a van- it was a fragile lifeline. The anxiety taking it to work with me was unbearable. What if something else went wrong while I was gone? The kids couldn't lose another parent. Neither could I.

Despite mom's protests, I opted to quit the call center and start at Fast Fresh, which was just a thirty minute walk. The van stayed safely in the driveway, and I told myself that was enough. But the truth is I am barely keeping it together.

I needed another job. Mom has been paying bills with dad's life insurance payout but it wouldn't last much longer. She had to go back to work soon. My measly gas station job barely makes a dent in the living expenses. To keep mom at home healing with the baby I have to find a way to contribute more.

I neared the store. The hustle over made my pits damp and my lungs short on breath. Upon noticing Hassan's truck already parked in one of the lot spaces, my heart lurched.

Approaching the doors, I hopped off the scooter and carried it inside, breathing heavy. Travis and Krys waved at me from behind the counter, which faced the entrance, where they both helped different customers. I scurried towards them, then disappeared into the office behind the counter to put down my belongings.

Hassan, who wore a black shirt with a clipboard in hand, counted the inventory above the computer on his desk. He barely glanced at me, and I took the opportunity to toss the scooter and bag by the lockers.

I offered Travis a grateful look while I clocked in at the register he stood at. "Thank you." I said to him.

"No worries!" He waved it off as he clocked out. "See you later."

Together, Krys and I busted out the short line of guests. I was on auto pilot, accepting their payments for coffee and gas and snacks, occasionally returning the change as the computer told me to. When the store cleared from the first of what will be several morning rushes, I took the opportunity to start charging my phone in the outlet next to the register.

Krys padded over and showed me a meme on her own phone. "Should I send this to John?" She asked. He was another coworker, in his 30's, as Krystle is. She had a fat crush on him, but I wasn't sure if she knew about it. It was a gif of a cashier at a rival gas staton throwing several packs of cigarettes at a customer. I giggled, but Hassan cleared his throat behind me and made the two of us visibly jump.

Krys stepped off awkwardly, then quickly distracted herself by wiping down the counter. "Will." Hassan said at me disapprovingly. Even as I shrank under his tone, I still towered over him. Curly, dark chest hair crept from the placket of his shirt.

"I know, I'm sorry." I offered sheepishly. "I slept through my alarm."

His arms were folded across his broad chest. His lips were pursed as he allowed a moment of tense silence to fall between us. "We just talked about the attendance policy last week." He began, "Today is another half point- if you get just one more point I'll be forced to terminate you."

Embarrassment and guilt made my stomach sink and cheeks grow hot. "It won't happen again." I said sincerely, just as I had every time before.

Hassan sighed, and his dark brown eyes softened at me. He furrowed his fluffy brows. "If you'd like, I have an old alarm clock. I can drop it off before your shift ends today. Maybe it'll help you wake up more than your phone does."

I nodded my head vigorously at the offer. Hassan had never been anything but understanding towards my situation, my unraveling life, my mistakes. His unyielding patience had saved mt time and time again, and while I was grateful, it made my fumbles feel all the more world-ending.

He gave a curt nod before returning to the office. I exhaled the breath I had been holding slowly. Krys caught my eye with a sympathetic look and I smiled awkwardly. How embarrassing.

As customers slowly dawdled into the store, I stood at the register and helped them check out one-by-one. Meanwhile, Krys attended to the machines and tidied the floor, which had become muddy after a flock of construction workers made their way through.

By 8AM, Hassan left the store, after two other employees came in to help manage the morning bustle. Sometime after 10AM, I recognized my neighbor, Kim, and her mom, Anya, make their way in the building. Anya gave me a wave before disappearing with her daughter into the drink section. A moment after, a tall man with a scruffy beard made his way through the heavy doors.

"Will!" Kim chirped, nearing the register with her mom and a couple of sodas in tow. Sometimes, I felt taken aback by just how exactly alike the two looked.

Both of Kim's parents had been born in Russia, but had decided to move to America before starting their family. Kim was only fifteen but already the same height as her mother. However, I expect it won't be long before she towers over her. Her tall stature seems to be the only trait she inherited from her father. The pair in front of me even went as far as to wear matching nails.

"Hey, you guys." I grinned hello at the two. Anya pulled out her card while I scanned their items. "How's it going?"

"Good." Said Kim. She swayed where she stood, with her arms tucked into the pockets of her oversized baby-blue hoodie. The cartoon lamb printed in the center smiled at me sweetly. "Is Nyla home?"

I nodded, "Yeah, when I left for work this morning, anyway. But I thought you were supposed to be with your dad this weekend?" I asked, having overheard the girls talking just a few days before.

Anya rolled her eyes but it was Kim who answered, "Oh! Well, he and his friends went to the lake for the weekend."

I nodded in understanding. Just a few short months ago, Anya and Aleksandr separated. Kim and Nyla had been friends for years, almost their whole lives, in fact. To say Nyla was stoked when she found out we would be moving down the street from them was an understatement. Dad was pretty proud of himself for finding a house available so close by.

Growing up, I would occasionally game with the girls, or we would go to the park together. But for the most part, we weren't incredibly close. I was almost ten years their senior, after all.

Even though our families had history, the divorce wasn't particularly surprising to any of the neighbors, either. After Anya's breast cancer diagnoses, she and her husband had visibly grown apart. And even though she was in remission now, the damage in the relationship couldn't as easily be cured, and she and Aleksandr went their separate ways.

Anya has primary custody over the kids- Kim, and Ben, her younger brother. But every other weekend they stay with their dad. They were always really excited to see him. Except this weekend, I guess.

The receipt brr'd from the machine, which I snagged and handed to Anya. "See you later." I waved farewell.

I watched them leave as I cashed out an older, blonde man's water. Nyla had said Kim has been taking the divorce hard. I wasn't surprised. Since her dad moved out, she wore the exact same hoodie nearly every day, even during the hot summer months.

It must work as some sort of security blanket, I reasoned. We all cope with hardship in our own silly ways, after all. Some of us find something to attach to, some of us work ourselves to death.