Chapter 4 Alexa
ALEXA
The application form stares back at me from the small table in the corner of Amelie’s Boutique.
Retail experience? I write down my summer job at the mall during college.
Sales goals? I make something up about exceeding expectations.
Why do you want to work here? Because I need money to keep my house and send my son on a school trip.
I don’t write that last part.
“Take your time,” the manager, Daniella, says as she organizes a rack of sweaters nearby. She’s probably in her mid-twenties, with perfectly styled hair and the kind of confident smile that suggests she’s never worried about paying bills.
I fill in the last few lines and hand the application back to her. “Thank you for considering me.”
“We’ll be in touch within the week.” Daniella’s smile is polite but noncommittal. “We’re interviewing several candidates.”
Of course they are. I shake her hand and walk out of the boutique, feeling every one of my thirty-two years.
Here I am, applying for retail positions alongside college students and twenty-somethings who are just starting out, while I’m trying to rebuild a career that got derailed by circumstances beyond my control.
Two weeks of job hunting and this is what it’s come to.
Applying for retail positions that pay barely above minimum wage.
The math is depressing. Even if I get this job, the salary will just cover our basic expenses. No room for savings, no money for Ash’s trip, and definitely no breathing room if something goes wrong.
But maybe I can find something else on the weekends. Online tutoring, freelance writing—something I can do from home while Ash plays or does homework. Or maybe there’s a Saturday job where I could bring him along.
I’m grasping at straws and I know it.
The drive to Ash’s school gives me time to compose myself. By the time I pull into the pickup line, I’ve managed to paste on a smile that hopefully doesn’t look as forced as it feels.
I’m a few minutes early, so I park and walk toward the school entrance, where clusters of kids wait for their rides. I spot Ash near the flagpole with his backpack, but he’s not alone. Three other boys from his class stand nearby, and from their body language, something’s wrong.
“Maybe if your mom wasn’t so poor, you could afford to go on the trip,” one of them says, loud enough for me to hear.
My blood turns cold.
“Yeah, and maybe if you had a dad, he could pay for it,” another kid adds with a cruel laugh.
Ash’s face is red, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Shut up, Tyler.”
“What’s he gonna do, tell his daddy on us? Oh, wait—he doesn’t have one.”
That’s it. I’m moving before I even realize it, my heels clicking against the pavement as I approach the group.
“Excuse me.” My voice is sharp enough to cut glass. All four boys turn to look at me. “Teddy, is it?” I ask the boy who seems to be the ringleader.
Teddy, a boy with expensive sneakers and a smug expression, straightens up. “Yeah. I’m Teddy Pinkerton.”
Pinkerton. Of course. His dad owns half the commercial real estate in town.
“Well, Teddy Pinkerton, I think you owe Ash an apology.”
Teddy’s smugness falters. “We were just talking.”
“You were being cruel. There’s a difference.” I look at each of the boys in turn. “Having money doesn’t make you better than anyone else, and making fun of someone’s family situation says a lot more about your character than theirs. You should be ashamed.”
The other two boys have the decency to look ashamed. Teddy just crosses his arms. “Whatever. Come on, guys.”
They walk away, leaving Ash and me standing by the flagpole. My son won’t meet my eyes.
“Hey.” I crouch down to his level. “You okay?”
He shrugs, still looking at the ground. “They’re just stupid.”
“They are. But that doesn’t mean their words don’t hurt.” I wait until he looks at me. “Want to talk about it in the car?”
He nods, and we walk to the car in silence. Once we’re both buckled in, I turn to face him.
“How long has this been going on?”
“A while.” His voice is small. “Ever since the DC trip permission slips came out. Teddy keeps saying I can’t afford to go.”
My heart breaks a little more. “What do you tell him?”
“That I can too go. That you said I could.” He finally looks at me. “But what if he’s right? What if we really can’t afford it?”
The question hangs between us like a weight. I want to reassure him, to promise him that everything will be fine, but I’ve never lied to Ash about important things.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say finally. “I promise you that. Even if it means I have to work three jobs.”
“I don’t want you to work three jobs.”
“Then we’ll find another way. The point is, you’re going on that trip, okay? And Teddy Pinkerton can mind his own business.”
Ash nods, but I can see the worry still lingering in his eyes. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think it would be different if I had a dad?”
The question hits me like a physical blow. “Different how?”
“Easier. Like, maybe we’d have more money, and kids wouldn’t make fun of me.”
I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “Having two parents can make some things easier, that’s true. But plenty of kids with two parents have problems too. And plenty of single moms raise amazing kids who turn out just fine.”
“Like me?”
“Especially like you.” I reach over and ruffle his hair. “You’re smart and kind and funny. You help with dishes without being asked, and you never complain when we can’t afford something you want. Those things have nothing to do with having a dad—and everything to do with who you are.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I still wish I had one sometimes.”
“I know. And that’s okay. It’s normal to wonder about that.” I start the car, my heart in my throat. “But right now, it’s just you and me, and we’re doing pretty great, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” He finally smiles. “We are.”
“How was your day?” I ask, pulling out of the school parking lot.
“Good. We talked more about the DC trip in social studies. Mr. Robb showed us pictures of the Smithsonian. It looks so cool.”
My chest tightens, but I keep my voice steady. “It does sound amazing.”
“Blake’s mom already sent in their deposit. She said the hotel has a pool.”
A pool. Of course it does. I nod and make appropriate encouraging noises while my mind calculates how many retail shifts it would take to earn seven hundred dollars.
Too many.
“Can we stop at the bookstore?” Ash asks as we drive through downtown. “I want to see if the new Spider-Man comic is in.”
“Not today, buddy. We need to get home.”
He doesn’t argue, which somehow makes me feel worse. A few months ago, stopping at the bookstore wouldn’t have been a big deal. Now, every small purchase feels like a luxury we can’t afford.
We’re turning onto our street when I notice my neighbor getting out of his car. Dr. Jordan something. I’ve never bothered to learn his last name, though I probably should since we’ve been living next door to each other for six years.
Anytime I’ve ever seen him, he’s been alone. Not today, though. Today, he’s carrying a baby carrier.
I slow down as I pull into our driveway, watching him struggle with the carrier and what looks like a diaper bag. The baby carrier rocks slightly as he adjusts his grip, suggesting there’s actually a baby inside.
“Mom, are you going to turn off the car?” Ash asks.
“Sorry.” I cut the engine, but I’m still watching Jordan. “Did you know our neighbor had a baby?”
Ash follows my gaze. “Dr. Jordan? No. Maybe his wife just had one?”
Wife. Right. Of course he has a wife. Successful, attractive doctors don’t stay single. They find equally successful, attractive wives and have babies and live in nice houses with perfectly manicured lawns.
Unlike single mothers who get laid off and have to apply for retail jobs just to keep the lights on.
I grab my purse and follow Ash up our front walkway, trying not to feel bitter about my neighbor’s apparent domestic happiness. It’s not his fault my life fell apart. It’s not his fault I’m thirty-two and starting over again.
But watching him fumble with the baby carrier does make me feel slightly better. At least he’s not perfect at everything.
“Can I have a snack?” Ash asks as we head inside.
“Of course.” I drop my purse on the kitchen counter and open the pantry. We have plenty of food, I remind myself. We’re not struggling in that way. Not yet.
While Ash munches on crackers and does his homework at the kitchen table, I open my laptop and refresh my email. Still nothing from any of the marketing positions I’ve applied for. A few automated rejection letters, but mostly silence.
I open up another job search website and scroll through the listings. Administrative assistant. Receptionist. Another retail position at a department store. All of them paying significantly less than my old job.
Through the kitchen window, I can see into Jordan’s backyard. The lights are on in what I assume is his kitchen, and I catch glimpses of him moving around. He still has the baby with him.
I wonder what his wife is like. Probably a lawyer or another doctor. Someone who can afford to take extended maternity leave without worrying about money. Someone who has a support system and options.
The thought makes my chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with Jordan specifically and everything to do with how alone I feel in all of this.
“Mom?” Ash’s voice pulls me back to the present. “You’re staring out the window.”
“Sorry. Just thinking.” I close the laptop and sit down across from him. “How’s the homework going?”
“Good. It’s just reading.” He holds up his book. “Want to hear about it?”
“Always.”
As Ash tells me about his chapter, I try to focus on his words instead of the burden of everything I’m carrying. The job applications, the bills, the constant worry about money. The knowledge that I’m one car repair or medical emergency away from real trouble.
But sitting here with my son, listening to him talk about his book with genuine enthusiasm, I remember why I’m doing all of this. Why I’ll take a retail job and work weekends and figure out whatever I need to figure out.
Ash deserves his trip to DC. He deserves to feel like he belongs with his friends, like money isn’t something he needs to worry about.
Even if it’s something I worry about constantly.
“That sounds like a great book,” I tell him when he finishes his summary. “Want to start dinner?”
“Can we have tacos?”
“Absolutely.”
As I pull ingredients from the refrigerator, I catch another glimpse of Jordan through the window. He’s holding the baby now, and even from this distance, I can see he looks tired.
Maybe having it all isn’t as easy as it seems from the outside. Maybe everyone is just trying to figure it out as they go along.
The thought doesn’t solve any of my problems, but somehow it makes me feel a little less alone.