I chuckled, tossing another bottle into the bag. “Shayla, you’re acting like this is something new.”
“It’s not,” she grumbled, rubbing her temple. “But dang… my senses still recovering from last night. Everything feels louder and smells stronger. Did they at least leave a tip?”
I hesitated to answer that.
I wasn’t one to lie, steal, or be on no grimy shit, but Shayla had aballaboyfriend who was just as generous as he was charming. He kept her hair and nails done faithfully, her rent paid, and hergas tank on full faithfully. Shayla clocked in cute, unbothered, and late on purpose with a text from her man saying, “I sent it.” Meanwhile, there was me, who clocked in with a prayer, because I had a $17.49 account balance, and I was navigating life as a single parent with a baby who went through diapers like they were snacks in a house full of stoners on the munchies.
“Nah, they didn’t,” I lied smoothly. “You know how that goes, though. These men will throw ten thousand on bottles and won’t even leave ten dollars for the ones cleaning up their shit.”
Shayla sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at the same time. “It’s giving luxury on the outside, struggle generosity on the inside.These rooms cost more than my rent, but suddenly everybody forgets where their wallet at when it's tip time.”
“Right. But we can’t clean it by complaining. Come on, let’s get to it.”
Shayla let out a frustrated sigh and snapped on a pair of gloves with the dramatics of a woman headed into battle.
“You stay with that motivational tone,” she teased. “I need some of that caffeine you be drinking.”
“It’s not caffeine; it’s the desperation to make it through the day,” I corrected her with a sly grin, feeling a surge of energy despite the daunting task ahead of us.
Before long, we were moving in sync. The sound of rustling trash bags and swishing mops filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional “ugh” whenever we stumbled across something gross.
My mind went quiet again, lost somewhere between exhaustion and giving up. I was tired of that job, tired of feeling like a burden, and tired of stretching one paycheck into three miracles. More than anything, I wanted better for my son. He deserved a life filled with security, opportunity, and joy… everything I felt was just out of reach. Deep down, I knew thatwasn’t my ending; it was merely a phase in between chapters of a much bigger story.
By the time I left work, every muscle in my body was screaming for mercy. Thankfully, Von had volunteered to pick up Mysun from daycare, so I didn’t have to sit in traffic, fake-smile at the daycare teacher, or wrestle with the car seat straps while running on fumes.
As soon as I stepped inside, I kicked off my shoes and dropped my purse onto the couch. When I reached the kitchen, I leaned against the doorway, folded my arms across my chest, and smiled as I watched Von move around in his element.
Cardi B blasted from the Bluetooth speaker at full volume while he danced around the kitchen like he was headlining a sold-out concert. His hips swayed, his shoulders bounced, and every few seconds he pointed a spatula at an imaginary audience while rapping along to the lyrics.
Lord, this man is always performing.
My friend couldn’t halfway dance if his life depended on it, but he swore he had rhythm.
I’d been living with Von for a little under a year. He cookedevery daywithout fail, talked more than a Sunday preacher with no time limit, and could find comedy in situations that should’ve been discussed in therapy. Von was chaos and comfort in equal parts, but also the only man I trusted enough to share a roof with.
“Von,” I called out, announcing my presence.
He flinched abruptly, flailing the spatula. “Jesus, girl! Don’t sneak up on me like that! You trying to collect insurance off me?! I almost deep-fried my thumb and my damn eyebrows!”
I snorted. “Did you die, though? Calm down before you burn this whole complex down.”
Von clutched his chest as if he was about to faint. “Kyns, don’t play with me like that! That grease popped like it had a grudge! You lucky this melanin doesn’t scar easily!”
“You’ll live. Where’s my baby?” I asked, looking around for my little dose of peace.
“He’s in his crib, taking a nap like a handsome baby king with no worries, because he pays no bills. And before you ask,yes,he ate…good. He even burped twice like a grown man. Oh… and he smiled at me like I was hisrealdaddy.”
I grinned, warmth slipping into my tired bones. “I’m sure that made your day. But thank you.”
“It kinda did. But always, boo. Anywho… how was your day?”
I let out a groan and plopped into the nearest chair. “Whew.”
Von looked me up and down with one brow cocked. “That bad, huh?”
“You don’t even wanna know. I cleaned a whole damn war zone today. I’m so sick of seeing used condoms, mystery stains, and folks acting like we’re supposed to be grateful to scrub behind their ass like it’s a spa experience. And don’t get me started on my coworker. Her ass came in complaining like she didn’t sign up for the same circus. She’s always taking a smoke break, never on time, and swear she ‘doesn’t feel right’ every time it’s her turn to clean a suite with actual biohazard vibes.”
Von chuckled.
