3. Millie
MILLIE
“Okay, okay, okay,” I mutter, as I pat my pockets, making sure that I have everything I’m going to need for the coming day. My phone, a pen, some lip balm, my ID…
The doors to the elevator slide open in front of me, and I almost jump when I see people standing on the other side. I notice one of the men stepping in beside me giving me a strange look, and I cast my gaze toward the floor, cursing myself for not being more put together.
Off to a great start as ever, Millie…
The temping agency I’m currently trying my luck at is pretty much a last resort.
I already worked for them for a few months a couple of years back, but I ended up being so unreliable that they let me go.
I’m going to plead my case as best I can, try to convince them to give me another opportunity to prove myself, though I’m not sure that I deserve it.
But, with Lewis struggling so much to keep on top of things at school, I know I need to get him into a facility that will be capable of giving him the care he needs. If that means I need to grovel for my job back, then I’ll do it.
When it comes to him, I’m not too proud.
I lift my head as I stride out of the elevator, trying to seem as confident as possible as I approach the reception desk. There’s a bored-looking teenager on the other side, and she glances up at me with a slight sigh as though affronted by the very fact of having to do her job.
“Can I help you?”
“I’d like to fill in some temp applications,” I reply breezily. “What new ones have arrived this week?”
If I can just convince her that I have every right to be here, I can get these applications in without anyone catching on to the fact that I’m not meant to be here.
I keep the smile on my face and give her steady eye contact as I wait for her to respond, and she lets the silence drag out for an excruciating moment before she replies, reaching beneath the desk to draw out the papers that I’ll need.
“Here you go,” she replies, nodding across the room. “You can sit at the desks over there and fill them out. Turn them in to me when you’re done.”
“Thanks,” I reply, beaming a little too widely at her. She gives me a strange look and I gather the applications into my hands, not even bothering to take in what precisely I’m applying for before I set about filling them out.
I focus on getting through as many as I can, filling out as many forms as possible before someone glances over and realizes that this isn’t my first time in this place.
I scribble out my name and contact details over and over, and quickly bundle the papers into a pile to turn them in at the desk.
I just have to hope that they go into the stack alongside everyone else’s, and nobody bothers to check if I’m actually currently registered with this particular agency.
My name must still be in the system, right? It’s not that bad, really.
I don’t stick around to find out if anyone is going to catch on to what I’m doing here, rushing for the elevator the first chance I get and leaning against the doors as I’m whisked back downstairs again.
I smooth out my skirt, the one smart bit of clothing I have, and walk toward the front door with what I hope passes for a confident expression on my face.
Outside, I breathe a sigh of relief, a little bubble of satisfaction rising in my chest. Okay, so I have my name in for a few jobs.
Hopefully, at least one of them will be desperate enough to overlook any of the gaps I have on my resume.
I don’t care what it is—nannying, catering, admin—I’ll do whatever it takes if it means I can get a little more money coming in for Lewis.
The streets are busy with people on their lunch breaks, and I guess I must look like just another one of the day’s commuters.
In a way, I am, I suppose, though it feels like I’m a million miles removed from these people.
I study their faces, though none of them notice, too caught up in the hustle and bustle of their own days to pay attention to someone like me.
I don’t blame them. I remember what it was like to worry about work and money and lunch breaks, instead of whether my boy was going to make it through the full day at school or whether I would have to rush over to bring him home again before I could get everything done.
At least Matt is back this evening—he’s been away at a conference all week, but he promised me that he would stop by and see Lewis as soon as he got back.
It’s always a boost to my son’s mood when his uncle comes to visit, and there’s nothing like seeing the way his face lights up when he realizes he’s going to be spending time with one of his favorite humans in the world.
I manage to run a few more errands before I make it home, and I take the rare quiet to scrub the place down as best I can.
In an apartment this tiny, clutter starts to build up quickly, and it’s all too easy to let it get out of hand before you know what has happened.
I do my best around here, but sometimes, it feels as though I’m constantly ten seconds away from tripping over a pile of toys and spraining my ankle.
I pick up Lewis from school, and I notice that he’s quiet on the way home.
It could just be tiredness, but it strikes me that he might just be trying to do his best to contain a flare-up.
He’s getting to the age now where he’s aware of the stress his condition causes to me, and sometimes I get the feeling he’s trying to hide the worst of it to spare my feelings.
“Uncle Matt is coming over tonight,” I tell him—and just like I expected, a smile breaks over his face.
“Really?”
I nod. “Really. He’s back from his conference. And he’s really looking forward to seeing you, he told me so…”
That seems to brighten Lewis’s mood for a while, and when we get back to the apartment, he helps me stack away some of his books and make up his bed while I put some dinner on.
I want to have something for Matt when he gets here, but as I root through the cupboards, I find that they’re pretty much empty.
Crap. I should have picked up some food while I was out; all we have here are pudding cups…
There’s a knock on the door and I go to answer it. When I open it, I find Matt standing on the other side, and in his arms is a pile of takeout boxes from that Italian place he loves so much.
“Matt!” I laugh as I reach over to give him a hug. “You didn’t have to bring all of this.”
“I know I didn’t have to,” he replies, as he steps over the threshold, going to the kitchen to dump the boxes onto the counter. “But I thought it would save you making dinner…”
“Save you from having to eat my cooking, you mean?” I fill out for him, and he grins.
“That too. Hey, buddy!” He greets Lewis as soon as he sees him, stooping down and opening his arms.
Lewis runs up to him for a hug, and I can’t help but smile down at them as I see them together again.
They really are the best of friends, and I’m so grateful that Matt has done everything he can to make sure that Lewis has family in his life.
After our parents passed, I had never felt more alone in the world, but Matt has made it so my son doesn’t have to miss out on a thing.
I head to the kitchen to unpack the boxes and get the pizza laid out on plates.
This particular restaurant makes food that’s actually not too bad for Lewis’s stomach, and it’s always nice to be able to share in something like this with him.
Any small piece of normalcy that I can offer him, I will always jump on the chance.
“So, what have you been up to, Lewis?” Matt asks, as they head through to the living room.
It’s not as though I have room for a dedicated dining space in here, not when things are so cramped and tight, so we all have to eat on the couch.
I distribute the plates between the boys and perch on the small armchair, listening as Lewis fills him in.
“I made this cool card at school,” Lewis says, and he looks over at me. “Can we show it to him, Mommy?”
“Of course,” I reply, and I go to rise to my feet—but Matt lifts a hand, indicating for me to stay right there.
“How about Mom gets it for me after we’ve finished eating?” he suggests. “I want us to have dinner together.”
Lewis nods, and I mouth a thank you in my brother’s direction.
He’s always looking out for me in that way, making sure that I’m not overexerting myself.
It’s easy for me to forget to allow myself to slow down, with the stress of everything that comes as being part of Lewis’s mother, but Matt never seems to let it slip my mind.
I’m grateful to have him in my life, I really am.
As he and Lewis talk, though, I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt when I think of all that my brother doesn’t know about how his beloved nephew came into the world.
I’ve never told him the identity of the father—partly because I don’t know, but mostly because I’m certain he would freak the fuck out if he ever caught wind of the fact that it had been one of his three best friends.
I’ve just told Matt that the father knew and wanted nothing to do with the baby, and as pissed as he was at the imaginary guy, he accepted it.
He knew it was for the best; what mattered most and what still does is taking care of Lewis in whatever way we can.
As awful as it was to lose our parents like that, I feel as though it brought us closer together—as though we have a connection now that we might never have otherwise shared.
I tuck my feet up under myself and take a bite of the pizza, releasing some of the tension I didn’t even realize I was holding in my shoulders.
Times like this, I can’t help but wish I could offer Lewis something more of a family.
Not that my brother doesn’t do his best, but sometimes, there’s a hole where I know his father should be. Well, fathers.
I know it’s ridiculous, but I kind of see all three of them as having fathered our son. I see parts of all three of them in him, from time to time, and I like catching those glimpses of the people who helped me bring Lewis into the world.
One day, he will want to know about his father.
And one day, I suppose, I’ll have to tell him.
I haven’t figured out exactly how I’m going to put that into words yet, but when the time comes, I have vowed to myself that I will be honest with him.
He deserves to know the truth, when he’s old enough to understand it.
Question is whether I’ll ever feel like he’s able to handle that kind of news.
“You okay?” Matt looks at me, nudging me with his foot.
I blink and nod, forcing myself back into the present moment. “Yeah, fine,” I assure him.
If I give him any more reason to worry about me, I know I’ll never be able to get him off my back. I lean forward and grab another bite of the pizza, hoping that with my mouth full, it won’t be quite as obvious where my head is at.
I can relax now. That’s what I need to keep reminding myself.
Sometimes, it’s hard to remember that I can actually unwind, that the world isn’t always out to get me in one way or another.
As I look at my brother and my son, I know that this is the closest I will come to peace. And I should soak up every moment of it while I can.