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“I told you I could pick up a night shift at the shelter. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”
Her father managed a faint smile and touched her hand.
“That is very kind of you, but you are already working too much as it is. You still have your own life ahead of you, a bright future…Taking over my debts or working yourself to death is not the way to start that future.”
“I’m not complaining,” she assured him smiling back at him.
A spark of admiration lit up his face.
“Don’t worry; I’ll do my best, so long as my daughter is happy.”
Ava realized that this was going nowhere. So why make her father even sadder than he already was?
“I am happy. I love my work with the homeless and I have a great Dad,” she said, smiling at him warmly. What else was there to say? He was as stubborn as he was selfless; Ava knew he would not give in.
“Well, I gotta go. Can you pick me up after work later? I have to go to the postal office and it’s too far to walk.”
“Sure. I’ll wait outside the estate.”
Ava’s father gave her a kiss on her forehead before he got up and left. It was getting late and Ava had to leave as well, but for a moment she just sat there, staring at the plate in front of her. This was the 21st century. How did people still struggle with paying medical bills, living paycheck to paycheck, counting every penny twice?
“The life of the peasants,” she said to herself, as she got up to get ready for work. It wasn’t said lightly or in jest but came from the bottom of her troubled heart.
It was a beautiful morning. Birds were singing in the trees and the sun shone high above in a cloudless, blue sky. Ava left the little gardener’s house her father’s rich employer had made available for him when he first started working for the Radcliffs. As their full-time gardener, her father was expected to be close to the estate at all times. Ava found this requirement a bit ridiculous; he was a gardener, not a bodyguard. But who really knew what was going on inside the heads of billionaires such as the Radcliff family?
She stared at the enormous, castle-like estate. It was right up the road, partially hidden by cherry-blossom trees, but still visible enough to tell the rest of the people in this neighborhood who was who around here. Her whole life she had been living close to wealth, and yet she was worlds apart from the comforting feeling of financial security. What felt even weirder was the fact that she would be going to work at a homeless shelter. It felt like crossing through a portal into another dimension, one of poverty, hopelessness, addiction, and pain. This was the world she felt close to. A world where her work as a social worker was horribly underpaid, yet necessary.
“It’s going to be a good day,” she muttered to herself, inhaling deeply as she walked over to her battered Camry parked on the other side of the luxurious gilded main gate. There was no way she would be allowed to drive that trash heap onto the estate, not even to the far end of the gardener’s house. Ava gave her car door the usual push with her hip to loosen the lock of the door.
She was about to get in when she saw the shimmer of her father’s faded green gab in the far distance. He was pulling a cart with several bags of dirt down to the east end of the estate’s gardens. Even from afar it was obvious how much he struggled with the load. It broke her heart.
I wish I could make things better for you, papa. I wish I could provide more.
Standing before the steel-colored Camry, she stared at her reflection and sighed. Her blond hair looked dull; her green eyes tired.
Turning her key, she tried to open the door. Nothing.
“Ugh! Still stuck,” she groaned and looked around from left to right.
The private road stretched down a bit further until the first “commoners” houses appeared at the border of the estate’s wide stretch of land and the fences bordering them. Once she was sure no one was looking—since her car always seemed inclined to embarrass her—she pushed against it with the side of her body, grunting as she shoved her weight against the door until it opened up.
With a sigh of relief, she got in and held the wheel, breathing deeply. This car was due for the junkyard, but her income barely touched the surface of her mother’s medical bills as it was. A new car was just not in the cards any time soon.
Resting her head against the wheel, she felt her eyes burn with tears. She missed her mother terribly but sometimes it felt like all she had left of her were enormous debts that overshadowed her ability to mourn her the way every person was entitled to mourn the loss of a loved one.
A few strands of her hair fell over her face when she raised her head and stared at the rear-view mirror.
“Get a grip on yourself, Ava. Today’s going to be a good day.”
The shelter she worked at was located at a local church near Manhattan. Most of the church had been converted into a relief center for the rising number of homeless people in the city of New York. Or the “infestation problem,” as some people, such as the Radcliffs, called it.
She parked her car a block away and walked the rest. It wasn’t the safest part of town, but people around here knew she was working for the church and mostly left her alone. Her worn-out Converses and casual jeans-and-sweater combo made her even less of a target. Not that she didn’t want to dress nicely – what woman doesn’t? – but her work could get messy at times. Plus, fashion was pretty far down on her “must-haves” list.
“Ava, hey!” John’s voice greeted her enthusiastically as she was about to walk in. “You’re looking pretty this morning.”
“Thanks, John. I needed to hear that. Even if it’s not true,” she joked.
“How can you say that! I meant it!” he said acting outraged.
