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One night when Crew was about one and sleeping through the night, I decided to get drunk on my birthday. Patty stayed sober and promised to take care of him if he needed it. I was turning twenty-one and our friends wanted me to have a real night out after basically never leaving the house for a year other than going to work, daycare, or the supermarket. I had drank too much and spilled my secrets. One of them being about the boy who stole my heart. I made the girls promise to never mention his name.
“You just broke a major friendship pact,” I chide playfully, narrowing my eyes at her.
She laughs. “Come on. Was it him?”
“It was, and he was with a bunch of hockey players. I could just tell by looking at them.” I cringe.
“And . . .?” Patty inquires.
“Nothing. I basically took off and gave Betty the table, which kind of sucks because I bet I could’ve made good tips off them. They all ordered steaks in the middle of the night.”
Patty laughs. “That sounds about right.” Her father is a retired NHL player who coaches, and her brother is currently playing in the NHL, but he lives in Tampa. I prefer not to have anything to do with any more hockey players. Liam Bozeman broke my heart and Carter, who is Crew’s father, dated me and left me high and dry when he found out I was pregnant. I basically never want to see or talk to a hockey player ever again. The only one I make an exception for is Kevin because he’s Patty’s twin and an all-around nice guy.
“Did he say anything to you?” Patty asks.
I shake my head. “I took off. I didn’t want to give him the chance to say anything at all.”
“Damn,” Patty hisses.
“Okay, buddy,” I say to Crew. “Go get dressed. I left clothes for you on your bed.”
He walks to the room we share. It has two single beds on opposite sides of the wall. My bed has a lavender floral comforter and Crews has aTeenage Mutant Ninja Turtlecomforter since he saw the movie last year and loved it.
He dresses himself mostly. I just help him slip his arm into one of the arm sleeves of his sweatshirt and then he puts on his joggers. “Mommy, do my socks for me.”
“You’re a big boy,” I remind him. He can do things on his own but for some reason he doesn’t like to.
He pushes out his lower lip, and although it’s a cute move, it’s also defiant.
“Crew, please, I can’t be late,” I plead.
He shakes his head profusely, and because I don’t have a lot of time on my hands, I do it for him.
With him all dressed I say, “Go play with your Lego in the family room.” That’s an easy request and he runs off. I close the door to our room and slip on a pair of leggings and a simple black shirt. It isn’t an outfit I’d choose on a regular day, but Bill’s Diner has a uniform. It’s outdated and quite frankly sexist, but I make good tips at Bill’s and get medical insurance, so I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut and accept a good thing for what it is. After brushing my hair, I place Crew’s lunch box in his backpack with his water bottle and we get our outer layers on. Winter in New York is just as brutal as Boston.
Patty isn’t around so I shout, “Have a good day,” as Crew and I leave. Patty’s working on her residency in PT. For the next few months, she’ll be working at a hospital doing inpatient therapy.
I head down the elevator and look at my watch. I’ve got seventeen minutes to get to work. Crew’s kindergarten is only a five-minute walk down the street, but I need to take a bus to work. The bus is only an eight-minute ride, but it all depends if the bus will arrive on time. I drop off my son at school and give him a ton of quick kisses. He whines and pulls on my shirt as the teacher comes to take him from me. I watch as other moms and dads drop off their kids and I always wonder why mine has so much separation anxiety. It makes me think I’m doing something wrong as a parent, even though I’ve read all kinds of children psychology books about raising balanced children. The kindergarten is private and costs me an arm and a leg, but I’m grateful Patty got such a good deal on rent for our apartment, and I don’t allow myself any luxuries. Crew’s daddy didn’t want to have anything to do with him from the start, and I wasn’t going to fight him for child support because he doesn’t deserve to even care for my child.
Thankfully, the bus arrives as I walk up to the stop, and I get on. “Hi, Phil,” I say to the driver as I head to the middle of the bus and take a seat.
I get off the bus at 8:57. “Hi, Jim,” I say to the homeless man who spends most of his days a couple of doors down from the diner. When I have some money to spare, I give it to him. It isn’t often, but we do get some uneaten meals that Bill says I can donate.
“Hi, Skylar,” he replies.
“It’s a cold day today. Maybe head on over to the shelter,” I recommend.
“I’m good here,” he assures me. I make it to the front door with two minutes to go. I rush to the back room where I take off my jacket. “Hi, Sky,” Betty says. “Rough morning?”
“Busy morning,” I retort. I must look worse for wear. I quickly put on my ridiculous uniform. I want to tie my hair up, but I seem to have forgotten a tie.
At nine on the dot, I’m on the floor ready to take orders. I take a quick deep breath and start my day of waitressing.
When I head to the order station, Betty comes up to me. “Those guys left me a nice tip last night.” She smiles wide.
“Figured they would,” I reply dryly.
“One of them came back this morning. He was looking for you,” she says. Betty was on the early morning shift.
