10. Chanice
Chanice
We have been texting for days. I don’t know if this is the protocol for a typical situation like this, but I can’t help but perk up every time I see his name on my screen.
Standing outside of a block of flats I am waiting to view, I see my phone light up with a new message from him.
With time to kill before the building manager shows up, I decide to call and continue our chat over the phone.
“My favorite restaurant is Taco Bell,” I say, answering his texted question.
“Please tell me you are lying.” Laughter is loaded in his voice, waiting to shoot free. I am sure disbelief is causing his brows to pull together.
“What if I’m not?” I move further under the front awning, trying to avoid the morning sun beating down on me.
A cabbie honks, causing me to almost miss his answer.
“I will force you to go to every restaurant in the city until you find a new favorite.”
“Oh no, more free food. Please stop. It’s too much torture.” Even though he can’t see me, I press the back of my hand to my forehead, really selling my sarcasm.
Without the visual, he still gets it, sighing heavily on the line. “Fine. Tell me why it’s your favorite.”
Without meaning to, we are treading into a serious topic.
To explain why it’s my favorite would mean I would have to tell him the story about how, growing up, my mum’s boyfriend, Rick, used to get us tacos every Tuesday when they were two for a pound.
It was the only time we were guaranteed food, and I learned to savor it like they were a meal of fine dining.
Ever since then, I buy them as a special treat whenever I’m feeling down.
Sad to note that it is one of the better memories of my childhood. It only lasted two years. The longest any of her boyfriends stuck around.
“They’re my comfort food,” I say, giving all I’m ready to give to someone tasked to only be here a while. I bite down the urge to tell him more and wait for his response.
“Can any taco do the job? Because I am prepared to show you better ones.”
I fight back my smile by pressing two fingers to my lips. “No, it can’t just be any taco.”
“Well, how about we have birria tacos and I introduce you to something that can challenge that decision?”
“Sounds like a date. We don’t do dates.” My lips form a pout as my face crunches up. I start to pace in anticipation of his answer.
“Let’s call it a hangout. I want to take you somewhere else, and after we are done, we will probably be hungry.”
My stomach lurches at the implication, as excitement has my heart fluttering. At the same time, my mind wonders if it’s fair to take another full night for myself. Before I can think of a second reason why us sharing a meal is a bad idea, a woman starts to wave to me as she crosses the street.
“Tomorrow?” I check my watch and see she is right on time.
“You are giving me your Friday night? I feel honored.”
I scoff to stop myself from laughing. “Yes. Now, goodbye.” I hang up before he can say anything else, and put my phone on silent. Just in time for her to walk up and greet me.
We exchange names and quickly shake hands before she lets me in the building. Based on the state of the stairs alone, I can tell this place is going to be a dump. Still, I let her lead me up until we reach the top floor.
“Now, this place is being leased as is, but we are doing everything we can about the smell.”
Before she even opens the door, the pungent stink of human feces hits my nose. My instincts have me stepping back as she urges me forward into the place. It only gets stronger the further we go in. When we get close to the bathroom, it becomes almost unbearable.
“What is that?” I ask, no longer able to take it.
“Some sort of sewage backup issue in the piping. We have a plumber coming tomorrow. Hopefully, it’s resolved by that.”
Hopefully? Just hopefully? I don’t know why I am still considering this place, but I enter the kitchen.
The little counter space and closed-in feel of it being more like a hallway lends to the cramped layout of the entire apartment.
The style of the building speaks to it being built in the 19th century, so saving space was the objective.
That isn’t going to be a problem for me, though.
One bedroom is right off the side of the living room. I pop my head in and see that it would barely hold one bed, let alone the two single beds for the girls. Possibly, it can be Jamal’s room. Looking around, I don’t know where the other one could be.
“Where is the second bedroom?” I ask.
“Right here.” She opens what I assumed is a closet, flicking a light on.
It might as well be one, for how big it is. The size of a queen mattress, the entire space is more like a walk-in than a room.
“How many square feet is the place?”
“Six hundred,” she says proudly, like that makes sense.
“And how much is the rent?”
“￡1800.” The smile widens on her face like she is delivering great news. That’s double what we pay now, and with less space.
“Thank you, I’ll think about it.” I take the stairs two at a time in desperation to get some fresh air. I also need to get to the next place and hope that it is better than this one.
It is, but the price isn’t, and I’m left with an overwhelming panic.
What are we going to do? We have less than three months to figure out somewhere to go, and our options are looking slimmer by the day.
Yesterday, Imani offered to get a job and help out, but that will just lead to her dropping out of school.
Maybe if I can find something that pays more than minimum wage, I can make this work.
Get some bunk beds and a futon, and we can squeeze into the second apartment I saw.
I sigh as I start down the stairs of the tube. My shift starts in an hour, so there is no time to stop home. Luckily, food is a perk of the job, so I won’t starve.
Throwing my work shirt over my tank top as we pull up to my stop, I wrap the apron around my waist just before we get off. I walk into the café ready to go and with time to kill.
“Hey Chanice!” The baker calls out to me, waving his hand for me to meet him in the kitchen.
“What’s up, Franco?”
“I totally fucked the first batch of my chocolate croissants. You want to take them home?”
They look dilapidated and flat, but they smell delicious. I pop a piece of one in my mouth and find they still taste good.
“Thanks.” I start to turn to put my stuff in the back.
“The old bake has also been put in a bag for you. I say you could probably get a few more days out of them if you put them in the fridge.” He points to the counter, and I see a clear bag with enough bagels and muffins to last us a week.
It will have to be all we eat for our three meals, but it would save us some groceries.
I give him a hug before I grab it and head back.
Emerging a couple of minutes later, I jump right into work.
It’s enough to keep my mind off my problems, as I focus on serving the waves of people coming for lunch and a late afternoon coffee.
Time passes in a blur, and soon it’s almost my break.
Just in time for a deliveryman to step through the door.
“Chanice Jones?” he asks, large bag in hand.
“That’s me.” I walk up to him.
“Here you go.” He hands me the bag and begins to retreat.
“What is this?”
“Food delivery from Taco Bell.” Finished, he walks out and jumps into a truck.
I move to the kitchen to open the bag. Inside is a plethora of tacos, burritos, and fries. Before I can process this, my phone goes off with a text.
Just thinking of you. Alex writes with a smiling emoji.
Putting my phone down, I have no idea how to respond.
My coworkers gather around me, and I offer them some, knowing there will still be plenty for the kids.
I try to keep the smile from my face, but with every bite it returns.
I’m pretty sure fuck buddies don’t do this, but I’m too happy to care.
He took the time to try and brighten my day a little, and all without needing to be asked.
If I were looking for a boyfriend, he is showing me that he might be a good one.
When I get home, the feast that is baked goods and tacos has the kids jumping for joy.
I picked up an extra shift to buy them takeout tomorrow, so it is a week of good eating.
Jamal bites into a chocolate chip cookie, opting for dessert before he has dinner.
As his older sister, I indulge his whims. As his parental figure, I make sure he eats at least one taco. Not that any of this is healthy.
“Thank you,” Imani says, as she curls into me on the couch.
“No need. This is a good day.” I wrap an arm around her shoulder, pulling her even more into me.
“Hey, do you mind babysitting tomorrow, during the day and at night?” I ask, the words hesitantly leaving my mouth.
As much as the burden of the kids is on me, it’s on her, too.
With me working as much as I do, most of the days and nights fall on her to watch them.
I remember being a teen just like her, and I was in the same position.
Resentment burned in my chest, and I couldn’t wait to leave at eighteen.
I wonder if she feels the same. Due to being seen as competition by my mum, I ended up being kicked out earlier.
I need to do something for her that will make the focus be on her happiness a little bit.
“Sure.” She is always agreeable. “Did you pick up a catering shift?”
For the tenth time, I second-guess my decision. Could I really justify being this selfish?
“I have a date.” I look into her eyes to gauge her reaction, trying to see if she is upset. She sits up, her eyes brightening.
“This the same guy from a week ago?”
“Yes.”
“Show me a picture.”
I pull up his social media that I hunted down during a dull moment at work a few days ago, and go to my favorite picture.
He is seated on a balcony with the Eiffel Tower in the background.
His chest is bare, and he is staring off in the distance like it is a candid moment.
The smile on his face is light and magnetic, instantly drawing you in.
“Jeez.” She pulls the phone closer to her face. “He is gorge.”
I nod my head as she hands it back to me.
“If you want me to cancel, I will. I was going to order takeout for you guys, and we can watch a movie together.” Barely able to afford the bills, the only thing I did splurge on is internet. Luckily, a friend taught me how to download stuff illegally.
“No, you should go. You need this.” Like the saint she is, she lets me have another night of indulgence. “Do you mind if I have someone over?” She presses her chin into her chest, her light cheeks turning pink.
“Who is this person?” I ask, my own face lighting up in excitement.
“Jeremy is a friend, for now.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“For sure. Just make sure they are never alone with the kids.”
“Yeah, definitely.” She sweeps her hair behind her ear and goes to get a muffin.
I join them, and we feast like we can only do with things that are bound to expire. When we are all full and piled onto the sofa, my phone begins to ring. It’s from a number I don’t recognize, so it’s likely only one person. I excuse myself to the girls’ room and answer it.
“Who is this?” Closing the door, I block out the conversation in expectation of who is calling.
“Baby? Is that you?”
My eyes shut instantly in unease, as I recognize none other than my mother’s voice.
“What do you want?” My own lowers to a deep, cold tone deserving of this exchange.
“How are you?” Her optimism shines through the line as she tries to make this talk friendly.
“Dierdre, what do you want?” I’m already tired of talking to her, despite the fact that we are just starting, I press my hand to my forehead in anticipation of my oncoming headache.
“I want to come see the kids.”
“No way in hell.” I try to keep quiet. Moving to the back of the room, I sit down on Gabby’s bed.
I wait for the pleas or the lies, or the gaslighting that she was never really that bad. I wait for her to tell me all of the reasons she thinks she deserves to be in their lives again.
“I’m sober. I’m better now.”
“Like that matters,” I whisper harshly. I clench my eyes, trying to keep in the frustration that instantly hits me when we do this. The tears still come, as memories of broken promises, days of abandonment, and heavy fists come to mind.
“You can’t keep my kids from me!” She is screaming like that will make a difference. Her anger is just one sign that she hasn’t really changed.
“Yes, I can, because I am their legal guardian.”
“For now. I’ll get my kids back.”
My stomach drops from the threat. The reality that my custody is temporary weighs heavily on my shoulders.
They never fully stripped her of her rights, only removed the kids until she is able to get her act together.
Little did they know, she never does, and she never will.
Even when she isn’t shooting up or drinking, she is a dry drunk with all the anger and abuse.
“If I let you visit, will you let me keep them?” Bitterness coats the words, making them slimy as they leave my mouth. I hold my breath waiting for her answer, the weight of the silence weighing down my lungs.
“Depends. How much money you got?”
“Go to hell!” I yell, before hanging up and throwing my phone down on the mattress. The fact that she can be the type of mother she is and still get them burns in my heart until I have no choice but to rub my chest.
“Chanice?” Gabs knocks on the door before she opens it.
I quickly put a smile on my face, wiping away the last tear that escaped.
“Yeah?”
“It’s almost bedtime. Are you done in here?”
I look into her big brown eyes and see an innocence of someone who doesn’t remember the bad times. If I can, I will stop her from ever experiencing them.
“Yes, it’s all yours.” On my way past her, I wrap her in my arms, holding her like she might disappear.
When she gets tired of it, she pulls away from me and moves to grab her pajamas. I watch them all getting ready for bed, trying to capture this moment in my memory. Trying to keep them here with me for a moment longer. Like the minutes passing by, our time is fleeting. It’s all going to end soon.