Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I finish rinsing my coffee cup before placing it in the dishwasher.
“Are you going to run it today? You didn’t last night.”
I clench my jaw, wishing I could be anywhere but here.
“I’ll run it now, Mom,” I mutter.
“It starts to stink if you leave the dirty dishes in there overnight,” she complains.
“It won’t happen again,” I say rather than arguing.
Telling her that because of her house rules requiring me to practically wash every dish by hand before placing it in the dishwasher there isn’t a smell wouldn’t win me any points. She’s already irritated that I’ve recently had to move back home. Add in the new job I recently took working for Cerberus in the evenings and I’m sure I’m not at the top of her favorite child list any longer. The fact that I’m an only child wouldn’t even be a consideration.
“You’re working again tonight?”
I turn to face her, but keep my mouth shut.
The woman is really doing me a huge favor. Getting an attitude with her wouldn’t benefit me at all but she knows just which buttons to push to make me seem like the most ungrateful person in the world.
“I need the money,” I remind her.
“You need to spend more time with your son,” she says, her tone creeping toward that danger zone I’ve learned is best to avoid, if at all possible.
“He goes to bed in an hour. I work while he sleeps. The attorney is expensive.”
She knows all of this. It’s like I’m stuck on the set of Groundhog Day, living the same damn thing over and over.
“Travis is more than capable of watching him in the evenings while you work.”
“Travis is the reason I have to hire an attorney.”
Instead of sticking around, being forced to listen to all the ways I’ve fucked up my life, I grab my bag from the kitchen table and walk into the living room.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell Ryder.
He looks sad when he pulls his attention from the cartoon he’s watching on television.
There are a million things I could be doing better. I could force him to eat his vegetables. I could cut his electronic usage in half. I could tell him no when he begs for candy every time we go to the store. I could’ve picked a better man to be his father. I could’ve left sooner. I have no idea how much trauma him witnessing the arguments has caused.
I open my arms as he climbs down from the couch. I press my nose into his soft hair, holding him harder than I probably should.
“Be good for Gammy,” I tell him and smile a little when I feel him nod his head in agreement.
“I could go with you,” he says, his voice hopeful.
“Not today, buddy. Bedtime in an hour. Don’t forget to brush your teeth this time.”
He nods, but there’s that glint in his eyes that tells me he won’t get them done as well as he would when I’m here because my mother doesn’t do a follow up with him.
My chest aches all the way to my car, and it doesn’t show any sign of leaving once I pull into the parking lot at the care facility.
Being a nurse’s aide is a fulfilling job, and most of the time, I love it. Helping others has always brought me joy. Getting paid more would cure so many problems in my life, but nursing school seemed impossible after finding out I was pregnant with Ryder over five years ago. Travis, my ex, wasn’t exactly supportive when I voiced my desire to go to school. He was even less willing to pick up some of the slack that would be created if I enrolled.
I should’ve listened to that whisper in the back of my head that was telling me to split back then, but I didn’t want to raise a child alone. I was desperate to make it work and look where that got me—in need of an attorney and an ex who was only allowed by the court to have supervised visitations.
I take a deep breath as I climb out of my car, painting a smile across my lips and praying no one can see through the mask I’m forced to wear.
My mother always told me that naming me Sunshine was a mistake. According to her, I was the most unhappy girl she ever laid eyes on. I’m not a bitter person. I smile often. When I was in high school, back when I thought I knew everything and had nothing but my life in front of me, I always had a smile on my face.
Now, as an adult, responsible for another life, it’s not there as often.
Well, my real smiles are much fewer and farther between these days, but the people around me wouldn’t know the difference. I nod instead with that same fake smile I’ve perfected on my face.