AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I sigh. “It’s my fault. I should have used a fake name. That’s probably how they found me.”
I had been meaning to ask her about some different work. Maybe phone sex or companionship, something that wouldn’t feel like cheating on Jarra but would still help me pay the bills; I feel too sick to bring it up now. After Sofia apologizes again, I hang up and try to focus on my next job.
When I let myself into the Gerret place, though, toys all over the floor, so before I can vacuum, I have to spend half an hour picking everything up. It puts me behind, but they won’t be happy if I don’t get the vacuuming, the bathrooms, and the kitchen done, regardless of what state they left the place.
That flows into delays on the next job and the next. Soon, I’m scrambling to get to Elsa’s school on time to pick her up. When I rush through the gates, she’s the last kid standing there, the teacher beside her in an otherwise empty playground. Mrs. Jameson gives me a tight smile. “You know after school supervision only goes until three thirty, Ms. Karas.”
I nod. “I’m sorry. I know.”
It’s only three thirty-five, but I get it. She wants to go prep lessons or have a cup of tea, or just put her feet up. She’s entitled. I’d be feeling pissy, too, if it was me.
Elsa kicks a rock in front of her and drags her bag on the ground as we walk back out through the gates onto the street. “Come on, honey. Can you hurry a bit? Damian is waiting for us.”
“I was waiting!” she wails.
I stop and turn to see her lip wobbling, Quickly, I stoop and gather her into my arms. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?”
She nods against my shoulder.
“I would never forget you. You’re my little girl. I just had the day from hell.”
She giggles. “Mrs. Jameson says we shouldn’t use that word.”
“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t in school, but you can use it when it’s only us. And I did. I had the day from hell.”
Her little arms go around me as far as she can reach and she sniffs. “Me, too. Rosie said she didn’t want to play with me anymore because I don’t have a Sunshine Doll, and all the other girls have one, and that’s all they want to play at the moment.”
I grimace. Something else I can’t afford to get for my kid, when I bet it’s the simplest damn thing. She should have stuff like that. She shouldn’t feel like she’s missing out. It’s also shit of these girls to do that to her, I bet some of them have more than one and they could let her borrow one, but they start young, don’t they? I remember what it felt like not to fit in, to be the girl at school who didn’t have all the right clothes and the right shoes. Whose parents didn’t drive the right car or send them to the right summer camps.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry we can’t get you a Sunshine Doll. I know you really want one. Maybe if you’re really lucky, Santa might have something for you at Christmas, OK?”
She gives a long sigh, but nods. “It doesn’t matter. They will probably have something else by then, won’t they?”
She puts her hand in mine and I give it a squeeze, smiling when she squeezes back. How’d she get so smart? “Probably. Aren’t there any other people you’d like to play with?”
By the time we get to Damian’s daycare, Elsa is feeling a bit better and the promise of burgers for dinner perks them both up. They’re so excited they both run straight through the front door shouting about how many nuggets they want and what they want on their burgers. They don’t even see the slip of paper and I’ll admit, I nearly walk over it, too.
I pause, looking down at the slightly scrunched dirty white paper. I’m sure I didn’t leave that there this morning. Probably it’s something that fell out of one of the kids’ bags. A note from the school asking for more money for some field trip I can’t afford.
I sigh, reach down, pick it up, and unfold it.
My stomach lurches when I recognize the messy handwriting: James.
You dirty whore. Good luck with your legal bullshit now. I bet they won’t give you the kids when they find out what a slut you are
I drop all the schoolbags right there in the hall along with my handbag. And I tear that stupid note in thirty-two tiny pieces, hating the way my fingers shake as I do. I march straight to the bin and dump it in.
I knew he’d find a way to get back at me about this. And what for? He doesn’t even want the kids. He just wants to control my life, like always. Have I handed him the key?
