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I’m not entirely sure what is dirty about offering a hungry man a piece of warm pie, but I get the feeling I’m missing something I should know. Something sexual. I wish Ana was here so I could ask her about it. I hate feeling like everyone gets a joke but me.
I set the plate and mug in front of him with a quiet clank of ceramic against the wooden bar and smile shyly. I know that he has been sitting here for a while, long enough that I know that he heard every nasty word Lawrence said to me. I hope he doesn’t believe the things that I was accused of, though I couldn’t tell you why it matters. Lawrence is such a jerk, I know he said that hateful stuff for one reason. To humiliate me. I should have expected it. He’s nice to every girl who catches his eye… unless they refuse to date him. Then he does his best to ruin their reputation. Most girls just quit, though I know of more than one who took the other way out and dated him… or something. They still end up quitting.
So far, Tina and Heather the only exceptions that I’m aware of. Heather has a girlfriend and they are serious. I don’t think he’s brave enough to ask Tina out at all. I think he’s scared of her, and come to think of it, he probably should be. She could eat a loser like him for lunch. I wish I could be as strong as her. If I was, none of this would have happened today.
“Thank you, Ellie.” The stranger says, capturing my attention when his hand gently brushes the back of mine. Fiery tingles race up my arm from the brief contact. I pull my hand back, stunned by the intense feeling and cradle it against my chest blinking wordlessly as the vibrant green of his gaze crashes into mine. He’s rubbing his fingertips against his palm but hasn’t taken his eyes off of me.
Did he feel that too?
What the heck was that, anyway?
“You’re welcome,” I whisper, confused by the perplexing feeling, and turn back to the kitchen with another small smile. He’s the first guest to be nice to me today. Maybe things are turning around. Feeling hopeful, I return to the kitchen to pick up my next round of meals to deliver, the smile still on my face.
The smile doesn’t last long. I was wrong. Surprise, surprise. The only thing that went well during the remainder of my shift was that it ended on time. I had hoped to get another glimpse of the handsome stranger, but by the time I got back to the lounge after covering breaks for the cocktail waitresses on the casino floor, he was gone. He did leave a nice tip with Tina. Fifty bucks! That coupled with the generous tip I got from the last couple I delivered dinner to means that I get to go home with something to show for my day. It doesn’t take the sting out of knowing that Lawrence is going to have my paycheck docked for something that wasn’t my fault, but it still felt good when I tucked the cash into the zipper pocket inside my purse to keep it safe.
A small part of me wishes that I could use the money to buy myself something. Makeup or clothes. Maybe a new book, but I know that I shouldn’t. The wise thing to do is to save as much of it as possible, because it’s a given that I will need it at some point. I don’t need those things. I just want them. I have everything I need. A home, a job, plenty to eat. I know that I’m more fortunate than a lot of people. The most important thing is that because of the money I earn, Mom and I can keep Lizzy and Auggie at home with us and still pay all the bills.
It’s been almost two years since the accident that killed my twin sister’s husband Dan and almost took her life as well. She’s been home from the rehab facility for almost a year now, but she still doesn’t remember anything about the accident, or a couple of years leading up to it. The doctors don’t know if or when she will get her recollections back. She doesn’t remember Dan, or that she was married or pregnant. When we tried to explain it to her she got so upset that Mom and I agreed that we wouldn’t bring it up again. At least not unless she starts to show signs of recovery.
In many ways she is like a child again. She can’t be left alone for too long because she struggles with impulsiveness, yet at the same time, she knows she is an adult, that she was in an accident, and she wants to be treated accordingly. We walk a fine line with her daily, and the brain injury makes her emotions somewhat unpredictable if she is having a bad day or feels that we aren’t considering her opinions about things. In short, it can be difficult, but we love her. I love her. And even though it’s hard I’m happy to do what I can to help provide for her and her son.
After clocking out, I hurry to the staff changing room to get out of my skimpy uniform and outside to catch my bus, but since my day has already been awful, you guessed it. I run around the corner of the building just in time to see it pulling away from the curb. I’ve been here for more than seventeen hours, and I just want to go home. Lowering myself onto the bench I lean my head back to rest against the glass shelter and I reach for my phone to let Mama know that I’m going to be late.
An hour later I enter through the front door of the adobe house I grew up in, kicking off my battered sneakers and dropping my bag on the floor by the door. A full shift in those stupid heels after all night on my feet in the laundry has them screaming for relief. All I want to do is soak in the bathtub before climbing into bed to read for a while. I shuffle through the empty living room and down the hall toward the bedrooms.
Music is playing loudly in Lizzy’s room, drowning out the sound of Auggie crying in the room I share with him. I sigh, frustrated and bone tired. I know it’s not her fault, and nothing can make things go back to the way they were supposed to be, but sometimes I wish my sister could be the mother that Auggie deserves. She loves playing with him when he’s happy, but the minute there’s something wrong with him she disappears and hides out in her room.
Pushing the door open I find Mama in the rocking chair in the corner. A red faced, wailing Auggie on her lap with his back arched as he struggles to get down. His little face is streaked with tears and boogers. Poor Mom. Poor Auggie.
Poor me...
“When did this start?” I ask, rubbing the spot where a headache is already forming between my eyes. So much for the bath, book and bed. There’s no way that is happening now.
“He woke up sniffling this morning and he’s been like this since lunch.” Mom’s voice sounds as frazzled as I feel. After we lost Dad things were hard enough on her, then Lizzie. She’s strong in a way I dream of being, but she has her limit too, and the look on her face says she is at it. Plus, I know that she needs to be up super early to put in her hours of work as a telemarketer, and with Lizzie unable, or unwilling, to help it’s going to be me who has to deal with this.
“Go to bed, Mama,” I tell her, lifting my nephew off her lap and into my arms. He stops fighting and lays his head on my shoulder, coughing and sniffling. “I will take Auggie with me to the pharmacy and get what he needs.” Thank goodness for the money in my purse. I won’t get to save it like I had planned, but I have it for handling this crisis and I’m beyond grateful. I know that we don’t have any cold medicine, and without the cash I’d have to risk overdrawing my bank account to get some or wait until morning and try to request an advance against my paycheck.
Mom nods, “Okay, mija. Gracias.”
“De nada, Mama.” I reply. She knows it’s something, knows that I’m tired too, but I would never take my resentment out on her. She’s doing the best she can, just like I am. I secure him in his car seat and drive the short way to the nearest drugstore. We don’t use the car often, but we do keep it for emergencies like this one. The cool night air helps to ease some of Auggie’s congestion, so he’s not as fussy as I carry him on my hip into the store.
Wandering down the aisles I’m able to get cold medicine (for Auggie and for adults, since I’m sure at least one of us will get one too) , menthol rub for his little chest, a new coloring book and a big box of those thick crayons made for chubby fingers, and a few cans of his favorite chicken and stars noodle soup. There is enough cash left over that I will be able to get a coffee tomorrow morning when I get to work and save the rest. I do a little mental fist pump as I lo
ad him back into the car and give him a dose of the medication in the handy little spoon before driving back home.
The car ride and medicine work, and by the time I carry him back into the now dark and silent house, he’s getting drowsy. He lets me wash his face before I tuck him into his little bed in the corner of my room and he’s out cold before I gather up my towel and pajamas to finally get ready for bed myself. It’s late when I slip between the sheets and cuddle into my bed. I didn’t get the bath I wanted, but my soft pillow and warm blankets are divine. It’s times like this that the drudgery of my life hits me. All I do is work and take care of my family.
Before Lizzy and Dan’s accident I was a normal twenty-three-year-old. I had friends. I even casually dated sometimes. I was taking night classes at the community college. I still worked a lot—I had to. After dad died it was just Mom and me, since Liz was already married by then, but working normal hours was enough to pay the bills and a scholarship was paying for school.
After the accident, everything changed. We had Auggie to provide for, then the medical bills used up Dan’s life insurance money. Lizzie came home from the rehab center when we realized that she wasn’t improving anymore. What was I supposed to do other than volunteer to work more?
So, I did. I quit school to work more, and this is where it got me, lying in my bed too tired to move and thinking about a gorgeous stranger with the prettiest eyes. Grateful to my core that he and one other couple were kind enough to tip so generously that I was able to get everything Auggie needed tonight. It could have been so much worse, and despite my fatigue, I’m happy that things worked out for once.
I finally drift off to the sweet sound of Auggie’s congested baby snores from across the room, still thinking about those eyes...
Before daylight, a still-congested Auggie wakes me up. He’s feeling much better. I’m glad the worst of it was short-lived, but a couple extra hours of sleep would have been nice. Encouraging him to try to sleep some more, I help him climb up in bed with me and cuddle his small body close to mine.
“Mama, play wif me?” he asks, patting my face and grinning with his tiny baby teeth. He’s not going back to sleep. Rolling over I tickle his belly until he laughs, making me smile, and together, we get out of bed to wash up. I need coffee if I’m going to make it through today and he needs the goobers washed off his face. Fortunately, Mom is as much of a caffeine addict as I am, so I know that there will be some waiting for me in the kitchen.
