3. Summer
Summer
When my shift came to an end, my feet ached and my head felt like it was about to split open. I went to the back hallway off the kitchen and grabbed my purse from a hook.
“Summer?”
Terri’s voice made my back tighten.
“Yeah?”
“Am I going to have a problem with you?”
“No. Why?”
Her expression hardened. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I wasn’t being rude to those guys. They were the problem.”
“The customer is never the problem.”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Actually, the customer was often the problem, and people like me were treated like crap because of managers like Terri.
“They came in specifically to harass me.”
Her forehead creased. “You know them?”
“Unfortunately.”
“This better not become a regular occurrence.”
“I can’t help it if they decide to come in and have lunch just to bother me. What am I supposed to do?”
She pressed her lips in a thin line and shook her head. “I had a feeling you were going to be a problem. Don’t make me regret keeping you.”
Careful, Summer. You need this job.
“I won’t.”
With a brisk nod, as if that settled the issue, she turned and went back to her office.
I left through the back door and stepped into the oppressive heat. If it was this hot in May, I didn’t want to know what July and August were going to be like.
My car—a white Chevy Malibu that had seen better days—was parked out front, on the far side of the parking lot. I got in and waited a moment for the AC to start cooling the air, then pulled out of my spot and left.
We’d lived in the dusty small town in Arizona for a little over a year. The last place we’d lived had been okay for a while, until a perfect storm had made me throw up my hands in defeat. Problems at Nate’s school, problems with our apartment, problems with my job…
I wanted Nate to have a stable life, not move around every couple years, but being a single mom was freaking hard.
We were broke more often than not, and I barely had a high school education.
That made it tough to get a job that paid enough to live on, let alone enough to get ahead.
As much as I would have loved to take classes or learn new skills so I could do better, I never had the money or the time.
Our apartment complex wasn’t far from the diner. I parked outside building A, where Nate and I lived, and walked across the hot asphalt to Mindy’s apartment in building C.
I’d been lucky to find Mindy. She had two kids at Nate’s school and was happy to let him come home with them and stay until I got off work.
And she didn’t charge me much. A lot less than a day care center, that was for sure.
Which was great because this single mom wasn’t exactly making six figures serving up mediocre eggs and hash browns at the local diner.
I knocked on Mindy’s door, and a moment later, she answered. Her brown hair was in a loose bun and she had a smudge of peanut butter on her shirt.
“Hi,” I said. “Sorry I’m a little late.”
She waved that off and stepped aside so I could come in. “You’re fine. I used to wait tables. I know how it is.”
I glanced toward her living room. Nate sat in one corner of the couch, as if he’d wedged himself as far from Mindy’s son and daughter as possible. They were playing a video game while he watched. His blond hair was a little messy. He needed a haircut.
Although Nate was only ten, he was big for his age. I kept hoping he’d grow into his body. He moved like he didn’t have a sense of where he was in space. I’d asked his doctor about it, and she’d said it was normal. He’d grown fast and needed time to adjust.
But his physical awkwardness had only made Nate’s life harder. He’d never had an easy time making friends, and his growth spurt over the past year had made him stick out among his classmates.
Moving around a lot hadn’t done him any good, either.
“Hey, buddy,” I said.
His eyes stayed glued to the TV. “Hi.”
I lowered my voice. “How’s he been today?”
Mindy shrugged. “Quiet, like usual.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I was hoping he’d make a friend this year. Don’t get me wrong, your kids are great. But it doesn’t seem like he’s opening up.”
“They’re younger than he is. I bet he’d have fun with kids his own age. Maybe even older ones. He’s an old soul.”
That made me smile. He was an old soul. Always had been.
“Speaking of kids his own age,” Mindy said. “I need to talk to you about summer break. My kids go to a day camp. It’s great, and they always have so much fun. They take kids all the way through middle school, so Nate could go, too.”
“How long does it last?”
“You can sign them up in two-week blocks. We usually do all four.”
“Eight weeks of camp?”
She nodded. “It ends at three and includes lunch. And like I said, they have a great time. It would be good for him. And he could come here afterward until you get off work, like he does now.”
Even if I could afford it, I couldn’t think of many things Nate would hate more than eight weeks of summer camp. And I could also hear what Mindy wasn’t saying. If her kids were at camp, she wasn’t going to be around to watch Nate. Which was fair. It just wasn’t great for me.
“I’ll look into it,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
Glancing into the living room again, I hesitated. I was afraid to ask, but I needed to know. “Min, this is going to sound like a weird question, but you haven’t noticed a couple guys on motorcycles hanging around, have you?”
“Here?”
“Yeah.”
“No. I don’t think so. Why?”
The knot of worry in my stomach eased a little. “Just wondering.”
“Is there something I need to know about?”
“Nate’s dad is um…” I didn’t like talking about Axel. “He’s not around, but sometimes his friends show up. They’re kind of hard to miss.”
“Got it. No, I didn’t hear any motorcycles. But I’ll let you know if I do.”
“Thanks.” I turned back toward the living room. “Nate, we should get home.”
With a nod, he hoisted himself off the couch and knocked his shin on the coffee table. I winced, but didn’t say anything. Calling attention to his clumsiness would only make things worse.
He gritted his teeth, and I could see him biting back an “ouch.”
“Bye, Nate,” Mindy’s kids said in unison.
“Bye.” He gave them a little wave and grabbed his backpack. “Bye, Ms. Mindy.”
“Bye, kiddo,” she said.
I followed Nate out and cast a quick glance around the parking lot. There was no way they’d followed me home. I would have heard them. Bikes weren’t exactly stealthy.
Still, I felt a twinge of nervousness as we walked across the complex to our apartment. We climbed the stairs to the third floor, and I unlocked the door. Nate went in and dumped his backpack near the entry.
“Do you have homework?” I asked.
“I had a math worksheet, but I already did it.”
“Good choice.”
He went to the small dining table where he had a Lego project in process.
I’d given him a few sets—splurges for birthdays and Christmas—and after he’d built them according to the directions, he loved to make his own creations.
He’d been working on something that looked like a dragon for several days.
“What sounds good for dinner?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
I had no idea why I ever asked for his opinion on dinner. He never had one. I guess I was lucky he’d eat pretty much anything I put in front of him. But making dinner decisions every night was tiring. Especially after a long day of serving food to other people.
To be fair, what we had in the kitchen would be the deciding factor. And I already knew pickings were slim.
I rooted around, but there wasn’t much. One more day until payday, and I needed my tips to put gas in my car. So I settled on canned soup. I’d make toast to go with it. Not the best meal, but at least we had food.
That was about the most I could say for myself as a mother. I never let him go hungry. As for the rest, I felt like a big, fat failure most of the time.
Nate quietly worked on his Lego dragon at the table while I heated up our dinner.
I had no idea what I was going to do about summer break.
He was only ten—too young to be left alone all day.
When I was his age, I’d been on my own a lot.
Which was probably a good reason to make sure he wasn’t fending for himself all summer.
My childhood had left a lot to be desired.
It was one of the reasons I’d been hoping he could stay with Mindy and her kids. But there was no way I could afford camp. I could barely afford rent.
The roar of an engine outside made my back tighten. I hurried to the window and peeked out. It was just the guy with a loud car who lived one building over.
“What’s wrong?” Nate asked.
“Nothing. Just wondering what was making all that noise.”
He glanced at me, his big eyes lingering on my face for a moment before he went back to his dragon. I could already see the outline of the young man he’d be in a few years, when his round cheeks changed shape and a defined jaw took over. He wouldn’t be a little boy much longer.
Not that he was little. He was almost as tall as me.
I went back to the kitchen and stirred the soup. The toast popped up. One of the slices was a little burnt, so I put that one on my plate and buttered them both.
“Can you move your dragon so we can have dinner?”
“Sure.” He pushed it to the side, clearing a space.
I brought our meager meal to the table and sat down.
“Are you going to make me go to day camp?” he asked out of the blue.
“I didn’t think you were listening to that.”
“Are you?”
I sighed. “I don’t know.”
“We can’t afford it,” he said decisively.
My heart sank. I didn’t want him to worry about those kinds of things. “How do you know?”
He shrugged but didn’t answer. He was probably hoping I couldn’t afford it.
“I’m not sure what else to do about summer break. You can’t stay with Ms. Mindy all day if her kids are at camp. I wonder if day care would cost less than that.”
He stirred his soup and grumbled, “I hate day care.”
“Well, you’re too young to get a job, so I’m not sure what else you want me to do.”
“I could work at the diner with you. I’m tall enough to wash dishes.”
I smiled at him. “You are, but I think there are laws against child labor.”
“That sucks.”
“We’ll figure something out, okay?”
He met my eyes again and the trust in his expression almost broke me. “Okay, Mom.”
I ate my soup and toast feeling like crap. Mayhem was in town, and I had no idea what to do about summer break. The weight of being a single mom was heavy, and not for the first time, I wished I didn’t have to carry it alone.