Cheated Hearts

Etson was ruining me. I hated it. I hated having to smile at every customer like I was having a fucking aneurysm from joy every time they came and sat at my desk. One customer on this particular day had me count seven hundred and eighty three dollar bills for his deposit. He was Satan in disguise. I smiled anyway as I counted with as much accuracy I could muster. My smile felt like acid on my face.

God, I hate you, I thought as I shook his hand and instead of expressing my loathing said, "Thank you, Mr. Wallace. Come again!" Never come back. Take your dollar bills somewhere else, motherfucker!

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. This hatred was probably attributed to the fact that I felt like my head had been smashed in with a mallet. Harper must have passed me her flu; I would yell at her later for it and then she would smile and tell me how she just got over her illness and if I want to get some ice cream or some shit like that. Gary passed by my desk and grinned.

"Good job, Keaton! Last teller to help Mr. Wallace threw the dollar bills in his face!"

I smiled back and nodded vaguely as if saying, That –that was my pleasure. It wasn't Gary's fault though, so I bit back the sarcastic remarks that built at my throat. Tarquin came and sat down on my desk, followed by Caroline and Beatrix. As soon as Gary the Manager was back in his closed office, Caroline rolled her eyes.

"Man, I love Gary and all, but sometimes he's too happy. Sometimes I want to tell him that Santa Claus doesn't exist and that unicorns don't either," Caroline whispered.

Beatrix and Tarquin laughed; Tarquin's gaze settled on her dark hair and eyes and Caroline looked up and then they both looked away quickly. Beatrix gave me a knowing look and I gave her one in return. Tarquin and Caroline, Caroline and Tarquin.

Tarquin recovered quickly and said, "Hey, you guys wanna go out after work? Keaton deserves it for surviving 'Wacko' Wallace."

The girls breathed sighs of agreement and all of them started to name places we should go to but I shook my head.

"I can't. I don't feel well," I said.

"All the more reason to go, Keaton," Caroline said.

I looked at their blazing expressions.

"Fine, fine," I muttered just as Gary came out from his office, yelling for us to get back to our posts just in case any customers arrived.

______________________________________________________________________________

One did come. It was Chloe Dore and something was wrong with her. Firstly, she was dressed like she had just woken up even though it was nearly five in the afternoon. Her legs wore ripped and frayed jeans and it seemed that her already frail shoulders had become thinner in her baggy grey sweatshirt. She looked around with an envelope in her shaking hands. She looked around the bank with lost, doe like eyes and then she found me and I waved to her.

She hurried over and immediately, I noted that she had been crying. Her dark blue eyes were rimmed red and her nose was a bright shade of scarlet. She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. She looked like a lost child.

"Dore, are you okay?" I asked, dropping my voice down to a whisper.

"Of course, I'm okay," she said, a little defiant, "I just h-have a deposit to make." She leaned over and handed me the envelope with trembling hands.

"Chloe," I said, "Are you sure? You seem a little... upset."

Chloe closed her eyes and shook her head. Fat tears clung to her lashes and finally fell down her rosy cheeks.

"My boyfriend died," she whispered.

I felt my heart drop to the floor. This was too much. I should have never asked and not been nosy because I didn’t know how to help little Chloe Dore. I could help her with her Moneysaver Account and her interest rate, but I could not help her with this.

Dore cried silently and no one noticed her. She had trained herself to sob in silence. I gawked at her, holding the envelope that carried her check with limp hands. I felt myself lean over and place a hand on her shoulder and she jerked away.

"Please just m-make the deposit. I need to leave," she said. Her tone was meant to wound, but it just sounded like a rebellious child.

"I'm so sorry, Chloe," I whispered and turned to the computer to type in her account number.

She nodded slowly and ignored the tears that now cascaded to the smooth mahogany surface of my desk.

"We were going to get married," she whispered, "And now I have nothing."

I wanted to crawl under a hole. Chloe didn't deserve this. Nobody deserved this. The way she cried now, wasn't anything I'd ever seen. I'd seen my mother cry every time we got an invite to one of Gene's weddings. I'd seen Harper cry that night after Josh. But these tears, Chloe's tears were foreign. These were sobs of pure sorrow, sobs of grief and ache that unmatched any horror in the world. It stung my heart and my eyes.

I just clicked away at the computer to avoid meeting her eyes and tears.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you this. I haven't told anyone! And here I am telling my b-banker," she said with an ironic laugh that wasn't funny at all.

"Chloe? Do you need anything? Do you want me to walk you back home?"

Chloe shook her head and stood up as I handed her a bank statement.

"No, Keaton. I'll be f-fine."

I shook my head.

"No. My shift is over in three minutes. I'm free to go, Chloe," I said.

"Keaton, don't trouble yourself," she insisted and stood up.

"I'm not leaving without you, Dore."

She looked up at me with her red and indigo eyes. "You don't take no for an answer, do you?"

"No. I never have."

______________________________________________________________________________

Caroline, Tarquin and Beatrix nodded solemnly when I explained why I couldn't go with them that night and I vowed to reschedule for a later date. I bought Chloe a strong coffee as we walked to her nearby apartment. She was still crying a little when we reached her door and invited me up. I couldn't say no, could I?

Dore's apartment was a mess, not in a disgusting way. There weren't empty takeout boxes anywhere or anything (in fact, I was suspicious she had cut out eating altogether), but there were books and pictures strewn everywhere. Pictures of her and a tall dark skinned man with a bright smile.

I picked up one of the photos.

"That was Tom."

She looked at the photograph adoringly.

"Have I told you how sad I am for you?" I asked.

"Yeah, you have. Don't be though. I'm tough. I'll –I'll get through this."

I pulled her into a hug and she shook and sobbed her silent tears for a little while longer and then said she had to sleep and I let her go. While I was walking home I couldn't help but replay her words in my head.

We were going to get married and now I have nothing.