Braving The Storm

1 - The Blond Stranger

Day 212.

I picked up my savings jar to examine it. Oh great! Sitting proudly inside were a few crumpled dollars, some loose change, a hairpin, and an old piece of newspaper. My eyes turned misty as I set the glass down. I rubbed my forehead.

How had it gotten to this?

Two months. That was the deadline til my house would be bought for demolishing by a rich couple and the land used to build a whole park for their snotty kid because he graduated preschool. The thought enraged me as I roamed the kitchen, putting together a quick breakfast of sandwich and hot cocoa.

Twenty minutes until my morning shift began. I hurried with the peanut butter and received a heavy splat on my white shirt. I refused to let it bother me, opting to lick my top as I hurried to the door. My dog, Supe, must've thought we were going somewhere fun because he suddenly raced in the same direction.

“Hey, hey, no, Supe!” I used my leg as a wedge between him and the doorway. “You can't come along. It's work day. I'll have Olivia over. Be a good boy, okay?!”

A single bark came out of him that I took as a yes before bounding outside, careful not to catch his head that he tried to squeeze between the frame.

“Back, back, back, Supe!” I chided and managed to shut the door. “Liv!”

In the next house, the white door to an apartment kitchen swung open and a gingerhaired teenager swung her head out. She leaned all the way and shouted, “Rosy, you leaving early?”

“Yeah,” I shouted back. “I need you to uh. . .” I gestured to my house and she gave a few nods.

“Got it! Have a nice day at work!”

“I dunno, I'll try.” I chuckled and hopped in my car. Looking in the mirror, I sighed softly. Between the regular maintenance of my rusty rental truck, tipping Olivia to dogsit Supe every single day and my own accumulating bills, I couldn't spare money to afford a mere lipstick. In fact, I barely had money for anything concerning myself. I looked eerily like the bean bag my other neighbor’s dog played with that he found in the dumpster truck only two days ago.

Since it was better to think of the stressful day ahead than how awful my face looked in the mirror, that's what I did. Besides, customers didn't mind if I was ugly. As long as I brought their orders in time, I was good to go.

Hi, my name is Mary-Rose Philips. I know, who the hell has a daughter and names her Mary-Rose? 

But I go by Rosy most of the time, aka Punctual Philips, if you please. So nicknamed after my charming attribute of always being the earliest human alive.

Sike!

I am never early.

I work as a waitress at this beach side restaurant called The Wipeout and have been working there for seven months and five days. I live in a suburban-style bungalow in a neighborhood that looks like it belonged to rich folks on the outside and a community of slobs on the inside. My parents – both late – had lived there since they started dating in the late 90s and after their marriage, and long after my birth.

They passed a year ago; my mom from stage 4 cancer and my dad from diabetes. Ever since, I've lived alone with my husky, Superman – named after the country's most beloved caped crusader. Yeah, I forgot to mention that I also live in a world of superheroes.

Hard to believe, but once, I witnessed Wonder Woman take down bad guys in a mall. Epic! But I lost my groceries in the chaos so please give me a heads up next time, Diana.

I sped down the road, avoiding a delivery truck only by a hair.

“Sh— stupid!” I spat, eyeing the vehicle in my rearview mirror.