2. Chapter One
Chapter One
Ali
Night after night, I relive the worst days of my life and fight through the pain of losing everyone. I would love to be able to say that the night I lost every member of my family was the end of my suffering, but it wasn’t. Without any other relatives and the people who killed my family still on the run, I was put into the foster care system under a new name and moved from home to home. The only good thing that came from my time in the system was learning to not depend on anyone or expect anything to be handed to me. Instead, I realized that the only person that would look out for me was myself.
Making sure I miss the spots that creak and walk on my tippy toes, I sneak out of the small bedroom and head into the kitchen. It’s four in the morning, and I’m exhausted. But that is nothing different; I’m always tired. The only light I turn on is the one above the stove because I don’t want to wake anyone else up. I grab the big soup pot off the top of the stove and fill it with water from the sink. I place it back on the stove and set the burner on high. A couple more nights like last night—where tips were good—and I’ll be able to turn the gas on, which means instant hot water and heat in the winter. Until then, I will continue to make do with what we have.
Opening the refrigerator, I pull out the small take-out bowl I took from work last night. It’s not much, it’s half full of chicken noodle soup that would be thrown away because it was what was left at the end of the day. I don’t want to risk using the microwave and waking anyone up, so I settle against the countertop and eat it cold. It’s nothing to rave about, but I can’t be picky, and it will keep me going for a little while. I’m going to have to stop by the local food bank in town this afternoon, even though it makes my stomach curl.
Once I’m finished with the soup, I wash the bowl out before tossing it in the trash and turn my attention to the boiling water. I carry it into the small bathroom off the kitchen and pour it into the tub. It takes a couple of times repeating the process before I have enough hot water. Once I’m done, I turn on the cold water and slowly mix it in until it’s perfectly warm. I grab the only two towels I own and lay them on the closed toilet seat. Heading back into the bedroom, I open the small blue tote inside the door, pull out two outfits, and take them to the bathroom.
When I return to the bedroom, I take a minute to look at the two small, larger-than-life boys taking up most of the bed. My eyes start to tear up, but I refuse to let them fall. Their dark brown hair starkly contrasts with their pale skin and green eyes, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I sink down onto one knee and press a kiss to each one of their foreheads. They start to wiggle and make little noises that make me smile.
Today is the beginning of a new life for all of us, and while I’m nervous, I know I’m making the right decision—the right decision for all of us. I ruffle their hair and wait for them to open their eyes.
“Good morning,” I say once they are both semi-awake. When they were born, looking at them hurt more than anything because not only do they remind me of how they were conceived, but they are spitting images of my brother. I’ve always wondered what he would look like now if he had survived that night, and I guess I might find out with my boys.
“Mommy.” Caleb–named after his uncle–is the first to speak as he sits up and crawls into my lap. He is my calm and angelic baby. He barely cried as a baby and doesn’t get upset quickly. Nothing seems to shake him, and the little things make him happy.
A sigh comes from Jacob–named after his grandpa–and I can’t help but giggle. He might only be two, but he acts like a grumpy old man in the morning. He is the complete opposite of Caleb and keeps me on my toes. When he sees Caleb in my lap, he slowly crawls over to join us. They both lay their heads on my chest, and I soak in the love of my little family. The only family I have now.
“Are you ready for a bath and some breakfast?” I ask, juggling them as I stand up. They are getting too big for me to carry them both, but I will do it as long as they let me. They don’t answer me, but I don’t expect them to. It’s early for them, but this is our new routine, and they will get used to it soon. Once they are settled in the bath, I let them wake up and play with their small toys for fifteen minutes, but I never leave them for one second. Then I wash them and get them dressed. Caleb doesn’t fight me, but Jacob does because he has hated clothes since he was born. When I pick them up later, I’m sure he will be wearing nothing but his underwear.
I get them buckled in their highchairs, which I picked up at the local flea market. They needed a little sanding and paint, but they worked perfectly. I grab the last banana and split it between them. I fill their cups with milk and scramble some eggs for them. While they eat, I rush through a fast bath with cold water. Leaving the door open, of course, and the radio on to entertain them.
I quickly get dressed in one of my five pairs of jeans and a top given to me by our last neighbor before we were evicted. I pull my light blonde hair up into a ponytail. After cleaning them up, I grab their bag of spare clothes—because while they can use the potty, they sometimes have accidents—and my backpack, we head out the door. Buckling them in takes a while because Jacob wants to sit in Caleb’s seat.
“No. Not mine. Cal’s,” Jacob cries, kicking his feet. “His is blue,” he screams, pulling a few looks from people heading toward their cars.
Sighing, I look at Caleb. “Sweetie, can Bubba ride in your seat today?”
Caleb looks up from the duck he was silently playing with. “Yes.” I thank God for my angel boy. Don’t get me wrong; I love each one of my twins, but sometimes Jacob pushes me to the breaking point.
Finally, both boys are buckled in, and I run around to the driver’s seat. Glancing at the cheap watch on my wrist, I see that we are right on time, even with the meltdown. I hold my breath and pray my Jeep starts. After a few tries, the engine turns over, and I huff out in relief. It’s been touch and go lately, but after having to move again, I don’t have the money to fix anything— at least not yet. After a ten-minute drive across town, I pull up outside our old apartment complex.
After getting the boys out, they grab my hand and amble up the broken sidewalk. Once we reach our destination—apartment thirteen—I slowly raise my hand and knock. The door instantly swings open, and Mrs. Vance moves back so we can come in. She drops down and opens her arms. “How are my two favorite boys this morning?”
Caleb and Jacob both giggle before running into her arms. The sight has an ache forming in my chest. Since I met her two years ago, Mrs. Vance has been a guardian angel. She quickly became a surrogate grandmother to the boys and a mother to me. When I lost my job at the local theater due to its closing and had to move, I cried because I was going to miss her.
“How is the new place?” she asks, standing up and pulling me into a hug, like she did the boys. Speaking of boys, they walk over to the two little chairs she bought for them and sit down to watch whatever movie is on the TV. When we moved, I had to sell our TV, and I know they weren’t happy even if they couldn’t tell me.
“It’s on the small side, but it will do. Home is where the heart is, not where we lay our heads.”
“Damn right, it is. Now, do you have everything you need?” Her light brown eyes narrow as if she can see the lie I’m about to tell, but I don’t let it faze me.
“Yes. Thank you for continuing to watch them. I promise I will start paying you as soon as I can.”
Mrs. Vance waves me off. “Nonsense. I don’t want your money or your thanks. It’s a pleasure to get to watch my grandbabies.”
I roll my eyes but don’t tell her that I will deposit some money in her bank account without her knowing. I’ve been doing it for almost two years now. It might not have been much, but I felt better knowing I paid her something. “I love you,” I say, fighting the tears that are quickly filling my eyes.
“Are you excited for your first college class?” She asks, heading into her kitchen. I ruffle the boys’ hair when I follow her. I find her at the small counter working on something, but I quickly turn my attention back to the boys making sure they are fine.
“Yes, but I’m also nervous. I wasn’t the best student in school, but if I want to find a stable job, I need to get a degree,” I admit. I don’t have many friends but telling her the truth release a little of the weight sitting on my shoulders.
“You will do amazing. Now your classes end at one, right?”
“Yeah. I will pick the boys up right after. Hailey asked me last night if I could cover the first half of her shift at the bar tonight, which is from five to ten. So we will be back around four-thirty.” The thought of being away from the boys causes guilt to eat at my soul, but classes are only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The sacrifice of spending less time with them will all be worth it in the end. Hopefully.
“Nonsense. After class, head home to rest or study. Whatever you need. We will be fine. Also I will keep them tonight. That way, you don’t have to drive back here. Plus, don’t you have a shift at the diner tomorrow morning?” She asks, turning around and holding out a brown paper sack toward me.
“Are you sure, Mrs. Vance? I don’t mind coming back to get them.” I take the bag and narrow my eyes. “What’s this?”
“Knock off the Mrs. Vance shit. It’s been two years. Surely, we have moved on to Grandmama or Celeste. And that, dear, is your lunch. A turkey, tomato, lettuce, pickles, cheese, and mustard sandwich. A bag of salt-n-vinegar chips. Along with a homemade peanut butter cookie.”
My eyes get misty at her gesture. “Thank you… Grandmama.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Girl, don’t you cry. It’s just a sandwich. Now get, you have a class to get to, and I have some babies to spoil.” She rounds the counter and plants a kiss on my cheek before guiding me to the door. I stop in the living room, giving the boys kisses and promising to see them in the morning.
Once inside my Jeep, I let a couple of tears fall before pulling out and starting the twenty-minute drive to the small college I got into. The radio doesn’t work, so I have nothing to distract myself from my thoughts. My life is nothing like I thought it would be when I was little. That’s for damn sure. I’m only twenty and a single mother of twin boys. I thought I would have children, but I figured I would be in my thirties, married to the love of my life, and have a beautiful home. Instead, I’m on the verge of losing everything, living in a small, run-down apartment, and have sworn off men.
When I found out I was pregnant as a senior in high school, I was terrified for more than one reason. I hid it from everyone, fearing what would happen if they found out. When it got to the point where I couldn’t hide it anymore, I was six months along. I ran away from my foster home. Hopped a bus and went as far as my money would allow me. Thankfully, it was after I graduated from high school. I worried that my foster family would try to find me, but after a couple of months with no threat from them, I started to relax.
I found a job at the theater, rented a hotel room—one that thankfully didn’t ask for id since I was still seventeen—and saved every last cent. After the boys were born a local church offered to help me get on my feet. They got me an apartment in Grandmama’s complex and paid the rent for the first few months. Being a mom and trying to keep our heads above water has always been hard but I had to do it. I’m not sure where I found the strength to do it, but I did. Until I was told one night that the theater was closing and that we would all be out of work. Two months later, the day the boys turned two, and I turned twenty–yes, we share the same birthday–we were evicted.
I struggled to find another job but found one at the bar in town for the weekend and another at the diner. We lived in the Jeep for almost a month until I had enough to rent a new apartment. I got the lights turned on, but that was it. I saw an ad in the local newspaper for classes at a new college that opened up over the summer. I took a chance and went to speak with them. The lovely lady in the administration office helped me fill out all the forms and told me about financial aid. I was worried I wouldn’t qualify, but I got the letter last week. The state would pay for everything, including my books, all because I was a ward of the state.
Some people are lucky enough to have a little money left over, which they receive after the school takes theirs. I’m going to stop by after my classes and see if I’m one of the lucky ones, but I’m not getting my hopes up. I don’t count my pennies before I have them in my hand.
I chose a generic degree in business administration. It seemed like the best bet. I can get my degree in a year and a half if I attend school in the summer, which I plan on doing. Adding classes to working full time and being a mom is a lot, but I have no other option. I have to. There are no ifs, ands, or buts. My first class of the day is College Writing with Professor Black.
Finding a parking spot is tricky, but once I see an open place, I hop out, grab my bag, and give myself a pep talk. I’ve got this. I’m going to do this. I have to because I will be damned if I let my family down any more than I already have. I pull open the door to the building my class is supposed to be in and set off down the hall. I’m not looking where I’m going. Instead, my eyes are glued to the map the school gave me. Therefore, I don’t see the person standing in the hallway, so I run straight into him.
“Fuck,” a deep, southern voice exclaims as arms wrap around my back, keeping me from falling on my ass.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” I say quickly. When I pull my eyes from the map, I’m met with the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Holy shit.