getting my hopes up.
“I
hope it works out,” she’d said. “We’re rooting for you. But listen, if you
can come by in an hour to pick up Joey, that’d be great, because I have some
errands to run.”
And
that was it. A couple banal lines of encouragement, laced with a hint of
thinking she’d be let down, once again.
I
rolled onto my side and picked up one of Joey’s toys, twisting it around in my
fingers, but looking past it into our tiny studio apartment; I officially
realized how wretched our little space was. The carpet had a number of
unidentifiable stains that were there long before we moved in—so disgustingly
dirty that I had to put a blanket down before I’d let him play on the floor.
The white paint had faded, taking on a dingy hue. The refrigerator clunked and
banged, roaring like a jet engine whenever it turned on to cool down the
inside. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I could never get the ancient stove
clean. I counted four broken tiles on the kitchen floor. Joey’s thrift store
bed was falling apart in one corner and my single mattress lay in another. I
was too broke to afford railings and a box spring.
I
was tired. So tired.
Physically
exhausted and mentally fed up with never having enough and never being good
enough for Dreama.
That
last one didn’t matter. I’d resigned long ago to the fact that I’d never live
up to whatever it was she required of her ne’er-do-well daughter, yet it still
put a strain on me, having to listen to the near-constant admonishment.
I
hadn’t reached full-blown desperation, but I saw no other way out. Unless we
moved. Could we move to a different city, maybe down to San Francisco or L.A.
where there might be more jobs? What if Joey and I packed up and moved across
the country to Atlanta, or down to Dallas? We would be far, far away from her
criticisms and disappointed verbal barbs.
The
thought lifted my hopes and spirits, but only for a minute or two. I would
have to find a job first, and in such a pitiful, shrinking economy who
knew how long that could take? Weeks? Months? A year or more? I couldn’t
risk it.
There
was always Dreama’s offer to help—we could move in with her and Dad for a
while—but I’d never hear the end of it. I didn’t have the energy to endure her
fluttering about, hovering over me all the time.
I
came to the conclusion that I didn’t have the time, the money, or the energy to
say no to Roman and his offer.
Desperation
won.
CHAPTER NINE
At
nine the next morning, two hours until my deadline with Roman, I called my best
friend, Michelle, and asked if she could come by.
“I
hate to ask, but I have an errand to run,” I said. “Any chance you could come
sit with Joey for a little bit?”
“Sure,
Kimmikins. I’ll be over in a few. Got a hot date? You know we’re hoping
you’ll give Pete another chance, right?”
“A
date? Seriously? It’s nine o’clock.”
“Could
be a coffee date. I’ve heard Pete likes coffee.”
“The
guy smells like dirty cat litter. No way.”
Michelle
and her husband Aaron had been trying to set me up with Pete for months, after
Finn had disappeared and left me depressed and covered in ice cream. I don’t
know what it said about their opinions of my taste in men, or if they really
thought I was hopeless enough to go out with someone like him. I didn’t mean
to be rude, or petty, but Pete was one of those guys. Horrible cologne
that smelled like cat pee. Thought he was God’s gift to women. Tried too
hard. Not a chance, Michelle, sorry.
When
she knocked on my door, I already had Joey down for his morning nap. I let her
in and put my finger up to my lips. “ Ssshh . If you stay quiet enough,
you can just sit here and read or something. I’ll probably be back before he
wakes up.”
Normally,
Joey slept like the dead, but lately he’d gotten into the habit of waking up at
the strangest, and
“I
hope it works out,” she’d said. “We’re rooting for you. But listen, if you
can come by in an hour to pick up Joey, that’d be great, because I have some
errands to run.”
And
that was it. A couple banal lines of encouragement, laced with a hint of
thinking she’d be let down, once again.
I
rolled onto my side and picked up one of Joey’s toys, twisting it around in my
fingers, but looking past it into our tiny studio apartment; I officially
realized how wretched our little space was. The carpet had a number of
unidentifiable stains that were there long before we moved in—so disgustingly
dirty that I had to put a blanket down before I’d let him play on the floor.
The white paint had faded, taking on a dingy hue. The refrigerator clunked and
banged, roaring like a jet engine whenever it turned on to cool down the
inside. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I could never get the ancient stove
clean. I counted four broken tiles on the kitchen floor. Joey’s thrift store
bed was falling apart in one corner and my single mattress lay in another. I
was too broke to afford railings and a box spring.
I
was tired. So tired.
Physically
exhausted and mentally fed up with never having enough and never being good
enough for Dreama.
That
last one didn’t matter. I’d resigned long ago to the fact that I’d never live
up to whatever it was she required of her ne’er-do-well daughter, yet it still
put a strain on me, having to listen to the near-constant admonishment.
I
hadn’t reached full-blown desperation, but I saw no other way out. Unless we
moved. Could we move to a different city, maybe down to San Francisco or L.A.
where there might be more jobs? What if Joey and I packed up and moved across
the country to Atlanta, or down to Dallas? We would be far, far away from her
criticisms and disappointed verbal barbs.
The
thought lifted my hopes and spirits, but only for a minute or two. I would
have to find a job first, and in such a pitiful, shrinking economy who
knew how long that could take? Weeks? Months? A year or more? I couldn’t
risk it.
There
was always Dreama’s offer to help—we could move in with her and Dad for a
while—but I’d never hear the end of it. I didn’t have the energy to endure her
fluttering about, hovering over me all the time.
I
came to the conclusion that I didn’t have the time, the money, or the energy to
say no to Roman and his offer.
Desperation
won.
CHAPTER NINE
At
nine the next morning, two hours until my deadline with Roman, I called my best
friend, Michelle, and asked if she could come by.
“I
hate to ask, but I have an errand to run,” I said. “Any chance you could come
sit with Joey for a little bit?”
“Sure,
Kimmikins. I’ll be over in a few. Got a hot date? You know we’re hoping
you’ll give Pete another chance, right?”
“A
date? Seriously? It’s nine o’clock.”
“Could
be a coffee date. I’ve heard Pete likes coffee.”
“The
guy smells like dirty cat litter. No way.”
Michelle
and her husband Aaron had been trying to set me up with Pete for months, after
Finn had disappeared and left me depressed and covered in ice cream. I don’t
know what it said about their opinions of my taste in men, or if they really
thought I was hopeless enough to go out with someone like him. I didn’t mean
to be rude, or petty, but Pete was one of those guys. Horrible cologne
that smelled like cat pee. Thought he was God’s gift to women. Tried too
hard. Not a chance, Michelle, sorry.
When
she knocked on my door, I already had Joey down for his morning nap. I let her
in and put my finger up to my lips. “ Ssshh . If you stay quiet enough,
you can just sit here and read or something. I’ll probably be back before he
wakes up.”
Normally,
Joey slept like the dead, but lately he’d gotten into the habit of waking up at
the strangest, and
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