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“We’re going to get some food,” I tell her. “You hungry?”
She bobs her sweet little head eagerly, nearly tipping herself over. God, I love the peanut so much. It doesn’t matter than Momma kicked me out or that I had to suffer Chip’s presence. I feel good about this move to Dallas. Like I told Cass before, it’s just her and me now.
I hand her the baggie full of cereal. “Snack on this for now and we’ll get you some good stuff. What’re you hungry for?”
“Apple sauce.”
“You’re going to turn into an apple yourself if you keep eating that. Do you want peas or carrots?”
Cass makes a face. “Apple sauce.”
“This is why you don’t get any veto power until you’re twenty, girl.” I tweak her nose and pick her up. I settle her against my hip and drop the bag over my shoulder. “Hang on, baby girl. We’re going for a walk.”
There’s a small grocery mart about eight blocks away from the apartment. I pick up milk and eggs, some frozen veggies, which are more expensive than I can afford, bread, bananas and peanut butter. For myself, I throw some mac and cheese and ramen in my cart. The small basket of food comes out to forty dollars. It’s too much, but what am I going to do? Not feed Cass?
“You sad, Mommy?” Cass pokes my cheek.
I fake a smile and hand over the cash. “Nope.”
“Can I have cheese sandich?”
The cheese was three dollars and would’ve made five sandwiches. The peanut butter will last me a week. “I thought we agreed you liked peanut butter the best?” I tell her as the clerk bags our food.
“No. I like cheese now.”
“Can we have cheese next week and peanut butter this week?”
Cass pushes her lower lip out and scrunches her brow as she thinks hard about this choice.
The clerk gives me a sympathetic smile before handing me the single bag of groceries. I should be happy that the food isn’t heavy because it’d be hard to carry more with Cass, but my insides twist tight as I think of how many nights Cass’ belly won’t be completely full until I can earn more.
“Okay,” Cass agrees.
I’d forgotten what we were talking about. “Okay what, baby?”
“Okay. I’ll eat peanut butter.” Her little hands come up and push a piece of cereal against my lips. “You eat this. Your tummy’s growling.”
I hadn’t realized. I eat the cereal obediently. “Thank you for watching out for me.”
“It’s you and me, Mommy,” Cass coos before she feeds me another piece.
I hug her tight. Isn’t that the truth.
I drop Cass off at the daycare and try not to cry at the check I write out for the week. I’ll need to earn twice that in tips to keep the roof over our heads. Since the waitressing job at Stacks is all I’ve got, I’m going to make it work regardless of what Chip says.
I’m wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday because the asshole hasn’t texted me back. I’m able to get most of the apple sauce stain out, but the shirt isn’t fully dry. I pluck it away from my breasts and wish that my boobs weren’t quite so big.
When I arrive at Stacks, the place isn’t even open. After pounding on the front door a few futile minutes, I inspect the rest of the building. There’s a back door, but that’s locked, too. Over by the dumpster is a scraggly tree providing about two feet of shade. I hoof it over to the gravel, ignore the smell of rotten food and the buzz of the flies and pull out my phone.
A quick internet search pulls up Stacks. I hit dial, but the phone rings and rings. Since there’s nothing I can do but wait, I decide to search for jobs. There are plenty out there, but they are all low paying. Minimum wage isn’t enough for me to support Cass on. I could work two jobs, but that would mean I’d barely be able to see my baby. Plus, is there childcare out there at night that doesn’t cost two arms and a leg?
I don’t find anything that fits, but I fill out a bunch of applications anyway. By the time I’ve worked my way through five of them, a dark blue pickup peels into the lot. I stand up, brush the dirt off my jean-clad ass, and go to greet the driver, who turns out to be the bartender who hired me yesterday.
“Who’re you?” The older man squints.
I thrust out my hand. “Elaina Valdez. You hired me yesterday.”
He ignores my hand and scratches his chin as he stares at my chest. “You sure you got the right place? This is a bar and not a strip club.”
The urge to cover my chest with my arm is hard to ignore. “I’m at the right place. You said to show up at ten, and here I am, ready for work.”
