Chapter 7
SARAH
A buzzing sound filters through my sleepy fog, and I feel the vibration under my cheek. I yank my head up, wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth, and then use my sleeve on the streak left on my textbook page.
MILES: I’ll be in LA next weekend for an event. I’ll fly you in, and we’ll talk.
MILES: Don’t forget, Sarah, you left.
I stare at the messages, not surprised he would text me in the middle of the night. It never changes. It’s all a game. I inhale and let it out, wanting to ignore him forevermore, but I can’t.
ME: We have nothing to discuss other than you following the orders. Don’t drag this into something it won’t ever be.
Even as I type, I know it’s as good as talking to a brick wall—carefully crafted, solid, and self-secure, but completely hollow inside.
Miles is waiting me out—dangling the fruit before me to see how long I’ll last before I break. He knows I can’t afford to get my attorney involved, and I’ll do anything for Ollie and Frankie. He’s calling my bluff.
I squeeze my phone in my hand, wanting to throw it across the room.
I don’t want a single thing from him, but Ollie needs speech therapy, and I have to be able to pay for things like car repairs, doctor’s appointments, food, and diapers.
I’ve tried to get ahead and build some savings.
But when you’ve been stripped of everything, including your friends and entire support system, that’s difficult to do.
I stare at the black text in my book, knowing it’s the end of the conversation for now. I attempt to read where I left off, but it’s no good.
I stand, my body tense with exhausted frustration. I reach into the cupboard for a cup, but my sleeve bumps a glass.
“Shit!” I scramble to catch it, but it crashes to the floor. I stare at the shiny shards scattered around my bare feet, shimmering in the light—a visual representation of my life.
Grover trots around the corner, and I hold out my hand. “Stay. Sit.” He stops and stares at me. “Sit.” He plops his butt on the ground in the doorway and his tail thumps against the floor.
A muffled cry rises, and I grab the dustpan and brush from under the sink, quickly sweeping up the mess before Frankie wakes Ollie. I dump the glass in the trash and scan my feet.
“Come on.” Grover follows, and I switch off the kitchen light.
Frankie stands in her crib, whimpering with her Lambie in one hand, two giant tears resting on her cheeks.
“Hey, Love Bug.” I lift her and hold her against my chest. “It’s ok.” I kiss her cheek. “Let’s change your dipe,” I whisper into her staticky hair.
I change her diaper and carry her to my room. Grover reclaims his spot at the end of Ollie’s bed as I lie down in mine. Frankie snuggles next to me, her face pressed into my neck.
I kiss her forehead, staring across the room at the array of ribbons glistening in the narrow beam of moonlight filtering through the blinds. “It’s all going to be ok,” I whisper .
I close my eyes, recognizing the patter of small feet followed by the click of nails.
“Mama.”
I crack one eye, and Ollie stands beside the bed. “Come on.” I move the sheet to the side and open my arm to him.
He climbs in, and Grover jumps onto the bottom of the bed. I wrap my arm around my little guy, and he burrows in.
“Let’s get some sleep, guys. We’ve got a big adventure tomorrow.”
______
I peel the small, sweaty hand from my face and am greeted by the soft morning light pouring through the blinds. I rub my eye with my free arm, noticing the foot wedged in my pit.
I carefully adjust the limbs sprawled around me. Grover’s head pops up as I curl up to search the nightstand for my phone, but it’s not there.
I wonder what time it is. My eyes flick around the room as I become aware of the golden glow and the fact that I couldn’t hear my alarm. I wiggle out of the confined space as Ollie murmurs and stirs.
Grover follows me down the hall and into the kitchen, where my phone buzzes with soft, melodic tones. Noooo. It’s seven fourteen, and the bus that routes to the grocery store will be at the stop in a little over an hour.
I rush back to my room, and Ollie sits up, rubbing his eyes. “We’ve got to get moving, bud, if you want to ride the bus today.”
I grab jeans and a sweatshirt from my small closet, then quickly brush my teeth and hair, pulling it back into a ponytail.
“Frankie. We’re going on b-b-bus today.” He leans close to her face as her eyes drift open and closed. “Come on.” He shakes her.
“Careful. Let her wake up.”
He hops off the bed.
“Go get dressed, and then we’ll have to eat a fast breakfast. ”
I wash my face and moisturize. My phone buzzes on the counter. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. I’m opening the store this morning and wanted to check in. It’s been a few days since I heard from you.”
These past few days have been a whirlwind. The kind that blows through and leaves everything in disarray. I wouldn’t even know what day it is, except that the bus schedule has become my latest required obsession.
“It’s been busy. I had to take my car to the shop.”
“Really? It’s not very old.”
“Yep. Apparently, the wheel could fall off.” I smooth a light layer of foundation underneath my eyes to hide the dark circles and bags.
She makes a clucking sound. “Luxury for an exorbitant amount of money, but the wheels fall off. Ha!”
My thoughts exactly .
“Well, what’s this delightful surprise doing for you?”
I want to laugh because there really isn’t always a bright side, at least not when the storms keep rolling in. “Nothing but make things twenty times more difficult than they already are.”
“I’m sorry, honey.” My mom loves drama, but she fully understands the struggle of being a single mom with minimal funds.
“I’ve been able to get a few rides to and from work, but I’m taking the bus.”
When I say it, it doesn’t sound so bad. The reality is it sucks ass. Like right now, when I need to get the kids ready and out the door, and also figure out how to manage groceries on the bus.
I thought about having them delivered, but that costs money I don’t have, and unfortunately, every penny counts.
“Who have you been getting a ride with?” My mom’s tone perks right back up.
Only my mom would look at this situation as a golden opportunity in disguise. I won’t be discussing my morning rides with my grumbly neighbor .
We’ve ridden together a total of three times. The first was unexpected, to say the least. He commanded and groaned, but for some reason, the man’s outward annoyance with life is amusing. There’s comfort in knowing others feel the struggle, and it’s clear he has some of his own.
Each day since, he’s sat inside his truck, waiting for me. He’s driven mainly in silence to the soft sounds of old country music on the radio.
“The neighbor across the street has been giving me a ride to work, and Kat has brought me home when she’s not in court.” I brush on a thick layer of mascara, seeing movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Oh, you met your neighbors? That’s great, honey. I . . .”
Frankie crawls toward the edge of the bed, and I rush to her, leaving my mom’s interlude about great neighbors. I scoop Frankie up, and she giggles and squirms as I carry her into the bathroom.
“Mom, I’ve gotta go so I can get the kids breakfast.” I run the thin black brush over my other eyelashes again.
“Ok. Do you think you’ll be home for Thanksgiving? We’re organizing a potluck. I work Black Friday, but I’d love to see you and my babies. Russ’s kids will be in town, but I hope you can come home. I miss you three.”
My mom manages a boutique consignment shop that only accepts name brands and high-end items. Most items come from the big cities, and she constantly snags things I could never afford. It’s what allows me to look even remotely professional every day.
Russ is my mom’s current boyfriend. He’s a nice guy, but spending Thanksgiving crammed into her trailer with his kids and pretending to be some happy family doesn’t sound like a good time.
Also, the thought of going home makes me want to puke.
My mom loves the small town she grew up in and is chairwoman of the mobile home community she delights in.
She’s the busiest of bodies and knows everything about everyone.
If there’s a function to organize, she’s on it, but I couldn’t wait to get out and never return.
The thing about small towns is that everyone knows everyone and everything about them, or at least they think they do. With my mom’s loud personality and rotation of boyfriends, I never had a chance to remain under the radar.
When I left, it only got worse. She made sure everyone was aware of each achievement as any proud mom would.
When I married Miles, I was suddenly no longer Susie’s girl with different colored eyes from the other side of the tracks.
My DMs were filled with townsfolk who’d never had a kind thing to say until they wanted a wedding invitation.
“I don’t know, Mom. I’m taking it one day at a time.”
“Think about it. I’m sending another box with some amazing items that arrived the other day. I found a coat for you. Kiss those babies for me!” she sings.
“Love you, Mom.” We hang up, and I shove my phone in my pocket, shifting Frankie to the other hip. “Let’s get you dressed and something to eat.”
She claps her hands and bounces on my hip. “Eat. Eat.”
“Ollie! Are you dressed, buddy?”
Ten minutes later, Ollie is eating cereal while Frankie attempts to get yogurt into her mouth with globs dripping onto her bib.
“Grover, let’s go outside.” I open the back door, and he trots out.
I check my watch again. “When you’re done eating, get your coat on,” I tell Ollie as I grab a handful of cereal.
“Ready!” He hops down from his seat to get his coat, leaving the last bits of cereal and milk in his bowl.
I pull the baby carrier from the hook by the door and set it next to my backpack. “You ready, Love Bug?” I wipe Frankie’s mouth and carefully remove her soaked bib.