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ONE
Dear reader, contentwarnings for all my books can be found on my website:https://ami0099.wixsite.com/ami-wright/content-warnings
Mel
“Mom! Mom! I said I’m hungry.” Damian tugs so hard on my arm I enter the last digit of my pin code wrong and the machine beeps.
Payment declined.
I glare at him. “Would you stop? I heard you the first time.”
His small lip trembles and his little face crumples into tears and I could kick myself. That’s the third time I’ve made him cry today by snapping.
I’m so damn tired.
I sigh and try entering the pin again, certain this will solve the problem.
When the machine beeps again, the cashier at the checkout gives me a sympathetic smile.
“Hey, Mom. When we get home, can we watch that video with the funny cats again?” My eldest, Elsa, smiles up at me with an enchanting smile and bats her dark lashes at me.
“Yeah, yeah. I just need to finish paying for this stuff, so we can get home and I can cook dinner, OK, honey?”
The woman behind the checkout leans over to frown at the machine. She pushes her glasses higher on her nose and looks up at me with kind brown eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It says the card’s been declined. Have you got another?”
“Huh? No, that’s not possible. Can we try again?” The child support payment should have gone through today. There should be plenty in the account to cover a few groceries. I fumble for my phone as she rings up the sale again and pushes the machine toward me.
I freeze. My banking app stares back at me, the two digit number on the screen mocking me. How is it possible I’ve only got fifty-eight dollars in the account?
“When you’re ready, ma’am.”
Behind me in the line, an older man with a packet of mints and a loaf of fruit bread sighs loudly and rolls his eyes.
If you’re in such a hurry, use the automatic check out, Dennis.
I don’t say it. Of course I don’t. I don’t even know the guy. Plus, I have to try to set a good example for my kids. But I sure think it as hard as I can in his general direction.
Beside me, Damian is still whimpering, and the checkout lady is staring, and Elsa is prodding at something on the display.
“Use this one.” I thrust my credit card toward the machine, trying not to cringe when I think about the money I already owe on it.
My sister would help me out if I asked her for money. Kalli’s recently moved in with her billionaire demon boyfriend and the two of them are so cozy together it’s sickening. I’m not asking my baby sister for money, though. Besides the humiliation, if I know anything about relationships, sooner or later her boyfriend Rin will resent being asked to support Kalli’s drop-kick older sister who somehow landed herself with two kids and a dead-end job, and a shithead ex who apparently can’t pay child support.
I swipe my hand across my sweaty forehead. Would this day end already? There are still hours and many jobs before I get to collapse exhausted on the sofa and fall asleep in front of some show I don’t care about. That’s the high point of my day, most days.
The walk back to the car is painful. My arms hurt from carrying the bags of shopping and Damian, who sat down outside the store and refused to budge. Elsa whines because I said she can only watch one hour of television before she has to go to bed tonight. The last thing I feel like doing is cooking dinner.
It’s gotta be done, though, so I push through.
When I set the spaghetti on the table, I’m met with instant tears. Damian’s little face crumples up and he pushes his bowl away.
Elsa gives me a horrified look. “You put the sauce on the pasta, Mom! You know I don’t like sauce on pasta.”
I know that now. Too bad last week she wouldn’t eat the pasta plain and complained when I didn’t make enough sauce for hers.
Guess who ate plain pasta for dinner that night?
I scrape the sauce off the pasta, wash the pasta, set her bowl in front of her. She takes two bites and declares, “I’m full.”
