Chapter 2 Alexa
ALEXA
Opening up my email for the third time in the last hour, I stare at the empty inbox and sigh. Two weeks of looking for a job and nothing.
Leaning back against the kitchen chair, I rub my eyes. Two weeks ago, I was living in a different world. Sure, I wasn’t wealthy by any means, but I had a decent salary at the marketing firm.
And then came the layoffs. One person after another. They weren’t even announced ahead of time. Three years of being there—and suddenly I was gone.
The memory still gives me indigestion. I would be furious about the fact that employees are expected to give two weeks’ notice when leaving a job, and yet, employers aren’t expected to return the favor, if it weren’t for the fact that I’m busy trying to figure out how to pay the bills.
I already filed for unemployment, though I was really hoping I would find something by now.
That will help, but it will only be about half of what I was making at the firm.
And there’s my savings, but that’s nowhere near where I want it to be.
Not when I had to get a new car last year after my used one kicked the bucket.
Not when the price of everything seems to be going up.
Not when my nine-year-old is growing like a weed and needs new clothes every couple of months.
Folding my arms, I look around the kitchen that’s been home since I was a kid.
The place is a little big for me and Ash, a colonial-style house with three bedrooms and two floors—the kind of place I could never afford on my own, in a neighborhood I would never live in.
We wouldn’t be living here if my grandma hadn’t left it to us in her will.
But while the mortgage is paid off, there are still property taxes, and we’re living in a fairly affluent part of Boston. If I can’t keep up with the taxes, we’ll have to move.
The thought makes me suck in a sharp breath. No. Things won’t get to that point.
“I don’t know what to do, Grandma,” I whisper to the silent kitchen. “I’m looking everywhere for a job.”
If she were here, she’d have a solution. She always did, and I’m still convinced the woman was a genius.
The sound of the front door opening makes me realize I’ve been crying. Quickly, I wipe away my tears and paste on a smile just in time for Ash to walk in the door. He’s sweaty and panting, and he immediately drops his backpack and goes right for a glass of water.
“How was Blake’s house?” I ask.
Since Ash’s friend Blake lives down the street, sometimes the two boys will ride home from school together and then hang out afterward.
“Good.” He swallows the whole glass in a few gulps. “He got a VR headset. It’s really cool.”
“That does sound really cool.” I try to keep my smile on and hope he doesn’t ask for a VR headset.
While he’s never wanted for the necessities, and we take a vacation here and there, the downside of living in this neighborhood is that Ash’s friends’ families have more money than us.
Thankfully, it’s only a problem when Ash feels like he’s missing out because his friends are going skiing in Europe or on a month-long cruise.
“Mom, look.” Opening up his backpack, he pulls out a piece of paper and hands it over. “My class is going on a trip to DC! Can I go?”
I quickly scan the piece of paper, which lists the dates and other important information. My gaze lands on the price, and my breath catches in my throat.
I don’t even have that much money in my checking account right now. How can I pay for a trip like this?
“Um…” I keep reading the paper.
“It’s okay if I can’t,” he says, his tone changing. “I know you just lost your job, so we can’t spend money on some things.”
He’s being genuine, and it breaks my heart. But just then, I notice that the money for the trip isn’t due for a couple more months. Surely I can scrape together the money in that time. Either I’ll have found a new marketing job, or I’ll have gotten a job in another field.
If I need to, I’ll go back to waiting tables. I’ll even work doubles on the weekend if that’s necessary. Ash can stay with a friend, or maybe one of my friends can watch him. Whatever it takes to keep the bills paid and to send him on this trip.
“We can afford it.” I look up at him. “You can go.”
His eyes light up, and I know that I would work three jobs if that’s what it takes to keep him happy. Not spoiled… but made to feel important. I wasn’t doted on growing up, and I’ve been careful not to do so with him. Given the opportunities his friends are given.
“Really?” He bounces on his toes. “Blake said it’s going to be amazing. We get to see the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Air and Space Museum.”
“It sounds wonderful.” I fold the permission slip carefully. “I’ll fill this out tonight.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He throws his arms around me in a quick hug before pulling back. “Can I call Blake and tell him?”
“Sure, but homework first.”
He groans but grabs his backpack and heads toward his room. I wait until I hear him settle into his desk chair before I let my shoulders sag.
The trip costs seven hundred dollars. Seven hundred dollars that would wipe out a good chunk of my emergency fund.
Standing up, I walk to the window that faces the backyard. The grass needs cutting, and the flower beds need weeding. Grandma would have kept everything perfect. She took such pride in this house, in making it a home.
I won’t lose it. I can’t. But next week, I’ll have to start dipping into my savings just to cover the monthly bills. The thought makes my stomach churn.
My phone buzzes on the counter, and I grab it, hoping for a response to one of my job applications. Instead, it’s a text from my friend Esme.
Coffee tomorrow?
I type back quickly. Can’t afford it right now. Even the thought of spending five dollars seems wasteful.
Three dots appear immediately, then: My treat. You need to get out of that house.
She’s right. I’ve been holed up here for two weeks, alternating between job hunting and wallowing. But the thought of sitting in a coffee shop, pretending everything is fine while Esme talks about her life, makes my stomach twist.
Rain check?
Alexa Costello, you will meet me at Cup O Jane at ten AM or I’m coming over there and dragging you out myself.
I can’t help but smile. Esme has been my best friend since high school, and she’s never been one to take no for an answer.
Fine. :)
Great.
I set the phone down and take a deep breath. Maybe getting out will help. Maybe I’ll see a “help wanted” sign somewhere, or maybe talking to Esme will give me a new perspective.
The sound of Ash’s pencil tapping against his desk drifts down the hallway. At least he’s doing his homework without being reminded. That’s something, I suppose.
Walking back to my laptop, I open up another job-search website. There has to be something out there. Marketing coordinator positions, administrative assistant roles, even retail jobs. I’m not picky at this point.
An hour later, I’ve submitted three more applications, and my eyes are burning from staring at the screen. The house feels too quiet, too heavy with worry.
I check on Ash, who’s sprawled on his bedroom floor working on math problems. Comic books are scattered around him, and his desk lamp casts a warm glow over his messy brown hair.
“How’s it going?”
“Good. Just finishing up.” He doesn’t look up from his worksheet. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we going to be okay?”
The question hits me like a punch to the chest. He’s nine years old. He shouldn’t have to worry about whether we’re going to be okay.
I sit on the edge of his bed. “Of course we are. Why would you ask that?”
He shrugs, still focused on his math. “I heard you crying last night. And you’ve been on your computer a lot.”
Smart kid. Too smart sometimes.
“I was feeling a little sad about losing my job,” I say carefully. “But I’m looking for a new one, and I’m confident I’ll find something soon.”
“What if you don’t?”
“Then I’ll find something else. Maybe not in marketing, but something. The important thing is that we’re together and we’re healthy.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Can I have mac and cheese for dinner?”
“Of course.”
Such a simple request. Such a normal, everyday thing. But as I head to the kitchen to start dinner, I feel the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders again.
I open the pantry and count the boxes of mac and cheese. Three left. I’ll need to go grocery shopping soon, but I’m putting it off until absolutely necessary. Every dollar counts right now.
While the water boils, I lean against the counter and think about tomorrow’s coffee date with Esme. Maybe I should ask if her agency is hiring. It would be awkward, but pride won’t pay the bills. At this rate, I’ll need to start using my savings next week to cover utilities and groceries.
There’s the sound of a door slamming outside, and I glance out the kitchen window.
My neighbor is getting out of a sleek black car, looking every inch the successful doctor he apparently is.
I’ve never actually talked to him, but the neighborhood gossip network is efficient.
Dr. Jordan something. Works at Boston General.
He looks tired as he walks up his front steps, his shoulders slumped in a way that reminds me of my own exhaustion. But at least his exhaustion comes with a steady paycheck and job security.
I turn away from the window. No point in envying someone else’s life when I need to focus on fixing my own.
“Mom, is dinner ready?” Ash calls from his room.
“Five more minutes.”
As I stir the mac and cheese, I make myself a promise.
Tomorrow I’ll meet Esme for coffee, and I’ll swallow my pride and ask about job openings.
I’ll check all the job sites again for new postings.
I’ll call the temp agencies I worked with years ago.
I’ll make a post on social media asking people for leads.
Whatever it takes, I’ll make sure Ash gets to go on that trip to DC. I’ll make sure we keep this house. I’ll make sure we’re more than just okay.
We’re going to be great. We have to be.