Chapter 2 - Kayla
Walking out of the interview room, my heart is racing, but my head is held high. I think I aced it. I think I answered every question with precision and efficiency, and I didn’t drag out answers to try and make it sound like I was embellishing.
I don’t need to embellish. I’m damn good at what I do, and if they can’t see that, it’s their loss.
Except it isn’t their loss, it’s mine. This firm is the biggest, best opportunity this city has to offer, and I want to work here.
Leaving California and coming back to Chicago was a massive move for me.
In many ways, it was my way of taking my power back.
What happened in this city around five years ago tore me apart. It reduced me to a shell of who I used to be. It broke me in the darkest ways.
I believed in love right up until it was made clear to me that no such thing exists. Not the fairytale bullshit I thought I had found. How naive and pathetic I used to be.
But life—no, not life, that experience changed me.
It reshaped me, and perhaps it was for the best. They say all of our traumas are only there to serve as lessons. As growth points.
My trauma made me tough.
I climb into the cab I manage to wave down on the street outside the massive glass doors of the skyscraper I hope to work in.
The driver smiles at me. “Where to?”
“Winchester Avenue, the apartments near the end,” I tell him.
“Yes, yes, I know which. You’re lucky, we’re just missing the lunch traffic,” he says, pulling into the road.
I glance out of the window. Compared to California, Chicago always seems to have traffic, no matter what time of day it is.
The apartment's kind of shitty, but it's a starting point. I don’t plan to be there for long. It was a move based on caution. Until I get a new job, there's a limited amount of money in my bank account, and I need to make it last.
I don’t have family to fall back on. And in this city, seeing as it’s been five years since I was even here, I don’t have a lot of people I can call for help.
My best friend, Izabel, lives in California.
She was my rock and my support system when I moved to California, and she's the only one I truly trust. She’s already talking about visiting me here, and I can’t wait for her to come.
We met through the first job I worked at when I got to California, and even though I didn’t stay with that company long, Izabel and I remained close.
I didn’t want to leave her. I already miss her like crazy. But I had to do this.
I have a deep understanding that if I don’t do this, I will never find my strength again. I will never reclaim the part of me that he took away.
As for family…I don't really need them. I never had any, and I’m used to being on my own, facing challenges on my own. I'm used to relying on myself. I've certainly done enough of it over the past years.
The driver stops outside my apartment and I climb out, tapping my phone against his machine to make payment. “Thank you,” I smile.
“Thank you, have a wonderful rest of the day,” he smiles back at me.
Hurrying inside, my heart is already flooding with joy.
This is the moment I wait for every day. When I worked in California, it was always arriving home that gave me the most joy. No matter how well I do in business, no matter how many promotions and raises I receive, it never stops being about them.
The elevator carries me to the last floor. I hurry down the hallway to the door of our temporary home.
I can already hear their laughter inside.
When I push the door open, I immediately drop down to their level as my beautiful twin girls come rushing towards me to bowl me over with hugs and kisses.
“Mama!” Kira shouts, nuzzling into my neck while Kelsey crawls onto my lap and throws me off balance, causing me to fall on my ass as I wrap my arms around both of them.
These two beautiful little angels are the reason for everything I do. They are the reason I never gave up. They are the reason I work harder than everyone else; I push, I fight, and do whatever it takes to be the best.
“Have you two been good today?” I ask, standing up and scooping them into my arms, one slung on each side. “Gosh, you guys are getting heavy,” I groan, kicking off my high heels to make it easier on myself.
“Mama, we made cookies,” Kelsey shouts excitedly.
“I made pink cookies!” Kira adds. Kira is usually the leader of the mischief, with Kelsey trying to tone it down in some way or another.
I think they balance each other out perfectly—one teaching the other how to be more adventurous, and the other learning how not to be too adventurous and get hurt.
“Wow, pink? I can’t wait to taste them!”
Their nanny, Stella, walks into the living room, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “They’re almost cool enough to eat,” she smiles at the girls. “Stop using your mom as a jungle gym. What did I tell you?” she laughs, pulling Kira from my side and throwing her playfully onto the sofa.
Kelsey jumps off me and leaps onto the sofa next to her sister. “Can Mama have a cookie now?”
Stella looks at me with a smirk. “I think your mama needs coffee and a moment to breathe.”
“It’s okay, I’d love to try one of these magical homemade pink cookies,” I muse.
Both twins rush out of the living room.
“You’ll just have to pretend you like them,” she warns me. "The girls insisted on making up their own recipe. I made a second batch of real cookies, but they aren’t ready yet. I was going to swap them out without the girls noticing, but I think it’s too late now,” she laughs.
“Oh goodness. Okay. I’ll try to keep a straight face,” I giggle.
“How did it go?” Stella asks, excitedly.
“I think it went really well! But I guess we have to wait and see if I get a callback for a second interview. You never know if they're willing to hire you once they find out you’re a single parent,” I shrug.
Stella nods thoughtfully. “This is true, but they would be stupid not to hire you.”
The first thing I did when I came back was start looking for a nanny that the girls connected with.
The moment Stella met them, I knew she was the right person.
She’s older than the other candidates, in her late forties or early fifties, but still bright with spirit and enthusiasm, allowing her to keep up with their endless energy.
And she has a wonderfully gentle and caring nature.
“Mama, here!” Kira shouts, running at me and shoving a cookie into my hand. It’s sticky and somewhat crumbly. It feels like a mud pie and all kinds of wrong.
Stella does her best to hide her laughter as I lift the inedible-looking object to my mouth, scrunching my nose in fear of what it is going to taste like.
I bite into it and powder fills my mouth.
Salt is the overpowering flavor. Flour is the overpowering texture.
I cough, and a puff of white powder comes out of my mouth, which makes me laugh, which makes me cough again.
Stella sneaks behind me to take the cookie from my hand, and I pretend to shove the rest of it, no longer in my hand, into my mouth.
I fake chew for a while, making noises of approval.
The girls both have their eyes locked onto me.
“Was it the best cookie you ever had?” Kira asks.
“Can you taste the pink?” Kelsey asks.
“It was so good,” I say, swallowing again and again to try and get the thick layer of salt off my tongue, still coated there after that first bite.
Stella hands me a glass of milk. “You always need milk with cookies,” she says informatively.
“Oh yes, you do!” Kira agrees.
The girls have my hair and their father’s eyes; dark chocolate-brown waves that flow down their backs in thick curls, and bright blue eyes that often steal my breath away when I'm reminded of how he used to look at me.
Of how he used to love me.
Ugh. I hate thinking about him.
It’s a waste of space in my life. A waste of emotion. A waste of anger.
For the longest time, the only drive I had pushing me forward was my hatred towards him. The resentment that I carried in my heart for how easily and how cruelly he threw me away.
Between that resentment and pure stubbornness, I became a force to be reckoned with. That drove me as long as I needed it to.
Then, over the years, I changed. Gone was that naive girl. That innocent, easily manipulated girl.
I became numb to the hurt, shoving it down deep inside of me, somewhere I don’t feel it anymore. I stopped being so emotional and started being strategic. My career was thriving, and that meant I could give my girls the life they deserved. And they were thriving, too.
The resentment faded and was replaced with pride in my beautiful twins. Pride in the amazing children I had. Now they are the only thing that motivates me in everything I do. They are my entire universe. My everything.
Oh, sure, most days I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown. But as long as my career is flourishing and my girls see me smiling, I think I’m doing damn well.
Kira grins up at me, proud of her cookie creation. “I'll get you another one,” she declares, rushing off to the kitchen with her sister right behind her.
“Let me go see if the real cookies are ready so I can swap them out,” Stella laughs.
Sitting down on the sofa, I take a breath.
Today was a big day for me. This interview means a lot.
I really want and need the job, and this company is my first choice.
If it doesn’t work out, though, there are a number of other interviews I can attend.
But it would be amazing to hit the ground running with the best possible company in Chicago.
I’ve only been back in Chicago for a week, and it’s more challenging than I expected. Emotionally, I’m up and down, and sometimes I’m very overwhelmed.
Especially when I go past places that were once our places. The coffee shop with the pink tiled floor in the West Loop. The Lincoln Park where we used to walk around, sipping carryout coffee and people watching while we joked and made up silly stories about the conversations they were having.