Chapter 5 #2
“Sarah.” The way he says my name makes my skin prickle. “Your wheel could fall off.”
I close my eyes. “Sooooo, you’re saying no?”
He groans, and the sound brings me a millisecond of reprieve.
“Fine. Do you have any idea when you might have it fixed?”
There’s a long pause. “Once I have the parts, I’ll fit it in where I can, but it could be a few weeks. You’ll need to tell me what you want me to do about the rest of it.”
“Great.” Just freaking great . “Will you let me know when parts come in?”
“I’ll put you on speed dial. ”
My life is crumbling before me, but did he just make a joke, or was that sarcasm? I. Cannot. Tell.
“Ok, then. I guess I’ll look forward to hearing your peppy voice with better news.”
There’s another grunt and grumble, and we hang up. My evening will be spent applying for a new credit card with a limit that will hopefully allow me to cover this disaster. One I’ll be lucky to pay off within my lifetime.
I log off my computer, gather my things, and meet Kat in the parking lot. Her SUV is superior to the smelly bus, especially this afternoon.
Kat pulls out of the parking lot. “Getting my hair dyed and my eyebrows waxed shouldn’t feel like a luxury, but these days, it comes close to a spa treatment.”
I rest my lunch bag in my lap. “I don’t think I’ve had my hair cut in over six months.”
Her eyes drift from the road to my head, running over my sleek ponytail. “Seriously? What kind of shampoo do you use? It’s so shiny, and you don’t even look like you have split ends.”
I smile. “The cheapest bottle I can find.”
She gasps as if that’s blasphemy. “We can’t be friends.” She raises her hand between us.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it from my purse. It’s the invoice for the inspection Slade assured he would send.
SLADE: I need to know about tires and brakes.
SLADE: Oil and fluids are non-negotiable.
ME: Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of like a large wild feline that stalks the tundra?
I just can’t help myself. His bossy matter-of-factness makes me want to pick at every grouchy layer.
SLADE: I’ll wait to hear from you .
ME: Ok. Shall I send you that information via text, or would you prefer a phone call?
SLADE: Text
ME: Yes, sir. I hope you have a pleasant evening.
I scroll, mentally adding the total of the things he said were required.
“Is everything ok?” Kat’s voice is soft.
I inhale and let it out. “Yeah.”
“You sure?” She glances at me. “You know if you need anything . . .” She lets it hang there.
I’d be lying if I hadn’t considered seeking her advice about Miles and my pathetic situation. But it’s messy, and she’s my boss. Nothing good would come from dumping my baggage in the middle of the only thing putting food on our table, no matter how minimal it might be.
“Thanks. I’m good. Just hoping Slade can work magic, and my car will be fixed sooner rather than later.”
She nods. “How are your classes going?”
I enrolled in two online courses to work toward a bachelor’s degree.
Achieving a paralegal certificate was a first step.
It helped me get this job, but I added two classes when I found out I qualified for financial aid.
Juggling work, mom life, and studying is a challenge, but I’m determined to do it.
“Statistics make me want to pull my hair out if I can even stay awake.”
She laughs. “Ugh. I had the worst professor. He smelled like mothballs and had hair growing out of his ears. I couldn’t even think with all of that going on. I don’t know how you do it with kids.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Lately, not very well.” I barely passed my last test, but I keep that to myself.
She pulls into my driveway. “I gotta run. Kiss those babes for me.”
I grab my things and climb out. “Thank you so much for the ride.”
She waves a hand. “You call me if you need anything.”
I enter through the back door, and the scent of onions and garlic welcomes me. A wet nose greets me, along with a bark and wagging tail. I carefully slip off my heels and flex my toes. The swelling around the smallest is finally starting to recede.
“Mama!” Ollie runs into the kitchen with Frankie crawling as fast as she can behind him.
I bend to kiss his face and squeeze him. I swing low, scooping Frankie up, and pull her to my chest, kissing her cheek.
She lets out a squeal. “Ma-ma.”
“Mama, wook.” Ollie holds out a large, orange paper letter F that’s been turned into a fox. “It’s a f-fox.”
“It looks so good, bud. Did you make that at preschool today?”
He nods.
Helen rounds the corner, tugging on her coat. “We took a deep dive into fox territory today.” Her eyebrows raise, and she winks at me.
“They eat rabbits and v-vegetables.” His little nose crinkles.
I squeeze him against my leg as Frankie pats my cheeks and presses her face to mine. “I bet they eat broccoli.”
He giggles. “No. Dat’s gross. They’re too smart to eat broccoli.”
“I had to stop by the store to pick up a prescription, so I grabbed milk and a few other things,” Helen says, zipping her coat and patting her pockets for her keys like it’s no big deal.
“It’s my turn for t-t-treats next week.” Ollie spins, running off to the living room.
When Helen’s smiling eyes finally meet mine, they turn soft. I suck in my stomach to contain my rolling emotions and the feelings of complete failure.
“Thank you,” I offer softly.
She reaches for my hand and squeezes. “Your grandmother helped me when I needed it most. There’s hamburger casserole in the fridge for you to pop in the oven.”
I hug her tightly. I don’t deserve to have a Helen .
She gathers her purse over her shoulder, and I walk her to the front door.
“S-see you tomorrow, Miss Helen!” Ollie hollers, sinking to the floor with Grover, his fox readying to take flight.
“His teacher mentioned a speech pathologist. She gave me her name and number and said getting Ollie evaluated might be a good idea.”
My shoulders slump, and Frankie’s arms wrap around my neck.
Ollie used to work with someone when I didn’t have to worry about bills and collection agencies.
Since then, his speech has regressed, and his stutter has become more prominent.
It’s worse when he’s nervous or unsure, and kids don’t understand his struggle.
“She also said there’s an early intervention program that offers scholarships you can apply for.”
I clench my jaw, not wanting to think about scholarships. None of this would be an issue if Miles weren’t a selfish prick and I weren’t so stupid to believe his lies.
She pats my arm. “Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Frankie waves her little chubby fingers from the doorway.
Helen turns and blows a kiss. “Bye-bye, sweet girl.”
I close the door and lock it, carrying Frankie to the couch. I sit in the middle with her on my lap, and she rests her head against my chest. The fox soars with Ollie and Grover trailing behind as it lands beside me. He climbs and settles into my side while Grover plops at my feet.
I take a deep breath, reminding myself that they are safe and we are together. My eyes burn, and my nose stings. I lower my chin to kiss the top of Frankie’s head, breathing her in.
There was a time when I dreamed of making it out of the place I felt stuck in, adhered to based on circumstances. I worked my ass off and ticked off one goal after another.
I did it. I became what no one thought I could be. Then, I got caught up in a web of lies I never saw coming. But even now, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Ollie and Frankie are worth every single minute of heartache, struggle, and disappointment. They’re all that matters.
So, I will do this. Whatever needs to be done. I’ll work my ass off. I know how to do that.
I close my eyes, picturing what once was. The woman I was proud of.
“Are you guys hungry?”
“I want Goldfish.” Ollie lays his fox down as Frankie’s head pops up.
“Me. Me.” Frankie pats her chest.
“Guys, we don’t have Goldfish.”
“Yes, we do.” Ollie hops off the couch and runs to the kitchen.
Helen. Of course, we do. I strap Frankie into her booster.
I pour the fish and grab my notebook.
I make a list. At the very top is applying for a credit card and figuring out how to get groceries on the bus. Then, I’ll look into speech therapy programs and somehow pass my classes. At the very bottom, I note: Regain the stability and independence I’d earned.
I picture the satin strips hanging in my room. The ones I really need to remind me that I did that once, and I can do it again. Only this time, I’ll make it with two kids, and I’ll never put myself in a situation where I lose it again.