Cast Me Gently by Caren J. Werlinger

pantsuit, her blonde hair perfectly done— oh, God, what will mine look like when I take this hat off? Teresa suddenly wondered.
    “Want some coffee?” Karen was saying. “You must be freezing. I can’t believe you walked here.”
    Teresa stood on the mat inside the front door, stomping her snowy boots as she unwound her scarf from around her neck and flapped her coat. “Some coffee would be great in a minute, but your walk isn’t cleared.”
    “I’m the only one to make it in so far,” Karen said with a fake smile. “The phone has been ringing since I got here, and none of the men have dug their cars out.”
    Teresa glared at her. “Sounds familiar.” She rewrapped her scarf and buttoned her coat. Reaching for the shovel leaning against the wall, she said, “Have that coffee ready for me. Be back in a jiff.”
    Several minutes later, she was back inside, stomping again as she took off her scarf and coat. “That should last you for a few hours unless it piles up out there.”
    “Thank you so much,” Karen said, waving her over to a chair by the desk where a cup of steaming coffee was waiting.
    Teresa held the cup in her two hands, letting the warmth soak in. “Oh, this feels good. Thanks.”
    Karen sat back down behind the desk. “So what brings you down here?”
    “I had to go to the bank,” Teresa said. “And I just had to get away from the store before I said something I would be sorry for.”
    “What’s going on?”
    Teresa didn’t answer immediately. She sipped her coffee, but just as she opened her mouth, the telephone rang.
    “Sorry,” Karen said, picking up the phone. Teresa drank her coffee while Karen took down the details of yet another car damaged when someone else slid into it.
    “That’s the third one this morning. Now,” Karen said a few minutes later as she hung up. “You were saying?”
    Teresa shook her head. “I don’t even know what it is. I get up early to open the store, take care of whatever needs doing. I stay to close most nights. I have no life. Gianni goes in whenever he feels like it, leaves early to go to Angelina’s or out with his friends. He gets paid more than I do because he’s a man.” She stopped, feeling sudden tears sting her eyes. She never cried. She blinked down at her coffee cup as Karen watched her intently.
    “It’s good to know some things in this world are constant, isn’t it?” Karen said.
    Teresa hiccupped with laughter. “You’re right. It isn’t any different from what it’s always been.”
    Karen sat back, still watching her. “Something’s different. Must be. Why is it bothering you now?”
    “I don’t know,” Teresa said. “Maybe because it’s been going on for so long…” Her expression darkened. “I am in the exact same place I was ten years ago. And if my folks have their way, I’ll still be in that same place ten or twenty years from now.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with that, if it’s where you want to be,” Karen pointed out.
    “I guess,” Teresa said. “I never questioned it before, but now… I feel restless. Like my life is just passing me by. Everyone my age is married and having kids. I don’t want that, but I watch my aunts, all single, all heavy and unhealthy. I don’t want that to be me, either.”
    Karen smiled. “Well, Rob found a way to break away. Maybe you should talk to him. Why don’t you come over for dinner one night? How about Saturday?”
    Teresa’s expression brightened. “That would be great.”
    “Bring someone if you like,” Karen said.
    Teresa felt her face get hot. She leaned over to retie the laces on her boots. “Maybe. I’ll see you Saturday. Six o’clock?”
    “Six is good,” said Karen, walking her to the door. “Thanks for shoveling.” The telephone jangled again. “Gotta go. See you Saturday.”
    Bundled up against the cold again, Teresa headed back out into the snow. Inside the bank, the lobby was deserted. All of the tellers looked up at her entrance. “Hi,