He is the reason I will succeed.
Inhaling a deep breath, I fill out an application for the paid intern position, praying that I am not overlooked. It will be an adjustment. We won’t be able to have any extras at all, not that we do now, but I won’t be able to do anything, but work, eat, and sleep.
My mom won’t be there to babysit, I won’t have any family or friends anywhere near me, they’ll all be here in Tulsa, which will be a four-hour driving distance from Dallas. We’ll essentially be all alone, just the two of us, the same way my mom and I always were. The exact opposite of what I wanted for my life, but also, I would never change anything about having him.
It’ll just be us.
My boy and me.
“Let me make the phone call,” my mother urges.
Lifting my head, I look across the room to her. She’s standing at the entrance of my bedroom, leaning against the jamb, her eyes on me, a dishtowel in hand. Sinking my teeth into the corner of my lip, I push up and dangle my legs over the side of the bed.
Not much in my childhood bedroom has changed. Same comforter as when I was in high school, same pictures on my bulletin board of people I haven’t seen in several years. One thing is drastically different though, my son’s crib, a crib that he’s dangerously close to growing out of.
“I couldn’t ask that,” I murmur.
“You’re not asking, I am.”
We stare at one another for a long, quiet moment. Clearing her throat, my mother shakes her head once. “I’m doing it. There are probably hundreds of applicants from fancy-assed schools, but none of them want it as much as you do.”
“Mama,” I plead.
She shakes her head, leaning forward slightly. “Don’t ‘Mama’ me. Susan and I may not be close friends now, but once upon a time, we were. Let me use my contact, the one contact that I can to help my daughter and her baby have a good life.”
Tears fill my eyes as I watch her. She wants this for me, maybe as bad as I want it for myself. Pressing my lips together, I nod my head once.
“Okay,” I rasp.
“Yeah?”
Nodding again, I breathe. “Okay.”
My mother’s lips curve up into a victorious smile and she throws her hands up. “I’m glad you agreed, because I already called her,” she exclaims.
“What?” I gasp.
She laughs. “I’ve already called her and she assured me that her husband would have something for you. Your interview is in three weeks. You’ll get an email with all of the details any minute.”
“Oh my god,” I exhale.
Tears flow down my mother’s cheeks as she watches me. I jump up and run toward her, body tackling her into a gigantic hug. Right now, I’m not a single mother, I’m not anything but an excited college student who just got her first hookup at her dream company.
“Susan promised me that her husband would find you something. Now, we just gotta get you and Holden set up somewhere,” she whispers.
Stepping back, I tip my head back slightly and look up into her eyes. “What?”
She grins. “If you’re going to work there, you’ll have to live there. If you’re going to interview there, you’ll have to be there for the interview. I took this weekend off, we’re going apartment hunting,” she says, her lips pulled into a big smile.
My excitement fades instantly. “I can’t afford an apartment,” I admit on a whisper.
There’s a long moment of silence between us, but my mom reaches out, her hands gripping my shoulders as her nails dig into my skin slightly through my shirt. Her eyes are sparkling, she doesn’t look scared at all. She looks almost mischievous if I didn’t know her better, and right now, I’m wondering if I do.
“Mama?”
“I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t know how long it would last…”
“What?” I demand.
Her smile grows and I’m not sure how, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile so big in my entire life—not once.
She giggles, actually giggles, then shakes her head once. “Your father has been giving me money here and there. I didn’t think it would last. I wasn’t sure what would happen. So, I’ve been putting it in an account for you,” she begins. I’m still confused and waiting to see what she’s actually trying to say.
“Apparently, his guilt has finally caught up with him, or something, because three months ago, he paid me a huge lump sum. It’s nowhere near what he should have paid all those years, but I accepted it because it’s enough to pay first and last, and a few months’ rent in between plus a little furniture to start you right.”
“Mama,” I say through trembling lips. “How? Why? We’ve been living here together, you’ve been helping us for three years, why didn’t you use it?” I ask.
She laughs softly. “Because my girl is going places and I’m going to make sure she gets there,” she whispers.
“I love you,” I exhale. “I love you so much.”
“You’re going places, Tenny, always have been.”
LANDRY
Lifting my hand, I pinch the bridge of my nose as I look down at my dancing phone. It’s eleven at night, and I should be home, but that’s the last place I want to be. It’s not that I hate my life, I have a good one, it’s that I can’t stand my wife. Haven’t been able to stomach her in over ten years.
Sounds horrible to even think the words, it is horrible, but that’s how I feel. She brought my three children into this world. She is their mother and she was my partner for a while, too.
For about the past twenty years, she’s just been this figure in my home. Well, what used to be my home, can you call it your home if you haven’t lived there full time in years?
We had ten good years, but that’s not enough, I want more of the good. She wants more money, more young men to play with, more, more, more.
I hate it and as the years have passed, the anger has built inside of me and I actually think that I might hate her, too. No, I think to myself, I don’t hate her. I hate the situation and I’m disgusted, embarrassed, and disappointed by her.
With a heavy sigh, I pick up the phone and slide my thumb across the screen. “Susan,” I grunt.
“Did I interrupt time with your whore?” she slurs. She’s drunk. She seems to be drunk more than she’s sober, another disappointment. Letting out an exhale, I lean back and close my eyes.
“I’m at work, alone,” I announce.
She snorts. “You’ll be interviewing Helen Bradley’s daughter for the paid intern job.”
“I will?” I ask.
She laughs, it sounds just as cold as she is. “Yes, you will. You’ll give her the job, too. If you’ll give any other person off of the street a job, you’ll give this girl one too.”
“Why don’t you have another drink, Susan?” I murmur.
“You’ll do it,” she snaps.
I’m silent for a moment, thinking about Susan and her friend, Helen. It’s been years, but I remember her. She was in our wedding thirty years ago. She had dark hair, she was always kind of sad, and was married to a total fucking loser.