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“I’m on fall break,” Stevie tells me as he crawls onto one of the stools by the tiny counter. It wobbles precariously back and forth, and I wonder how old the thing must be. I found it in the trash one day and brought it home. “It’s the first of October, remember?”
“Spooky season,” I tell him in a sing-song voice, wiggling my fingers.
Stevie laughs, swatting my hands away. I’ve always loved Halloween.
“Kat?” Stevie questions as I shrug off my hoodie, tucking it over the chair.
“Yeah, kiddo? What do you need?”
I can’t help but grin a little bit at my little brother, and I can tell he is obviously too sleepy to function for much longer.
“Are you going to be here tomorrow?” The hope in his voice is like ice in my chest, making my bones ache as if I’m suddenly eons older than I actually am.
“I have to head into work in the morning,” I answer reluctantly, and I look away from the sad expression on his face. I don’t want to know that I disappointed him.
“But I thought you worked tonight,” Stevie questions me as he yawns.
“I did work tonight.” I know how good my baby brother is at determining lies, and I don’t want to lie to him anyway. The kid is just too smart for his own good. He’s going to do great things. I just know it. “But I need to go in again in the morning. They need me, and I need to work. You know that, don’t you, Stevie?”
“Okay,” Stevie agrees in a quiet tone. “Will you help me in the afternoon then?”
“Tomorrow afternoon?” I wonder, and then my exhausted brain recalls. Of course, when mom was better, it was a lot easier. “Oh, the reading list, right. Yeah, I’ll be home after lunch, and then I’ll drop by the library, does that work, kiddo?”
Stevie yawns again, harder than before, and he nods. “Thanks, Kat.”
I herd my little brother to his room, and he collapses into his faded race car bed. There are posters on the walls that are a little bit faded. I move to leave the room, my gaze catching sight of the shoes resting on the floor next to the bed.
My chest aches as I stare at the worn canvas of the sneakers, all of them looking the worse for wear.
In my mind, I calculate the portion of my tiny check that I’ll need to buy my brother some new, nice-looking second-hand shoes. If I can’t get him new ones, that will have to be enough. He deserves that much from this life.
I think about calling the nursing home, but I know I won’t get an answer, and maybe I don’t actually want one. I don’t want to hear that I’m not doing enough.
I bite my lip as I stand in the apartment, the phone at my ear. I have already knocked on Mrs. Maxine’s door to let her know I will be back after lunch to get Stevie after I drop him off tomorrow morning.
I’ve already tried running the numbers in my calculator, and I know that if I take one or two extra shifts at the diner, I can hopefully have a few extra bucks in tips before heading back to the club to waitress.
Maybe I’ll have enough money then and be able to just live.
“I don’t have any more shifts to give you, girl,” Carlos growls down the phone as he pushes some papers around in the background of the diner.
I can hear the sharp tinkle of the door and the sizzling of the fryer crackling somewhere behind him. He’s never been a man who cares about what others need from him.
“Come on, Carlos, please,” I know I must sound like a child as I beg for something that I’m most likely not going to get. “There has to be something for me.”
“Not unless you want to stop working at the strip club and start working here full time,” Carlos counters, sarcasm dripping from his words. It makes me grind my jaw in frustration.
He knows that I won’t be able to do that. I know that much.
I stop, though, doing the quick math in my head. There’s just no way I can quit the club. Even working at the diner full time for a week wouldn’t get me the same amount of money I make at the club in a couple of nights from tips alone.
“I can’t quit the club,” I tell him, gritting my teeth. “You know I need that job.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Carlos answers me, not at all swayed by my situation and obviously uncaring either way. “I can’t just be doing charity cases.”
“Carlos, please just listen, okay,” I ramble on desperately, ready to plead my case on what’s likely to be deaf ears for sure.
I haven’t had an ounce of pride for so long when it comes to my brother’s life and keeping him comfortable.
