'Til Death - Part 2 (2 page)

Besides, I had to leave, which meant I had to start again. The past no longer matters.

To take care of Mom, I have to work long hours. We live in a tiny apartment I can barely afford. She stays at home most days without care. She hates it. She’s depressed. She knows she can’t help and that bothers her. She deserves more than this. She deserves someone to look after her, and I can’t give her that.

She’s grateful; I know she is.

But it doesn’t change facts.

“Pick up your feet, Katia,” my boss barks, shoving a plate with a huge burger across the counter to me. “Move.”

I lift it, turning and taking it to the customer’s table. The woman waiting for it scowls up at me. “I’ve been waiting half an hour!” she snaps.

“I’m terribly sorry.”

If my voice sounded like I meant that, she’d probably have accepted it, but my guess is she heard that I truly didn’t give a fuck and so she continued, “Excuse me?”

Great; she needs me to repeat myself. I turn and glance at my boss, who is glaring at me. If it weren’t for the fact that I needed this job, I’d tell this bitch right where to go. Instead, I force a smile and say in my best cheerful voice, “I’m so sorry, can I get you a drink on the house?”

She nods. “I’d expect so.”

“And what can I get you, ma’am?”

“Diet soda.”

“Coming right up.”

I turn, stare up at the ceiling for calm, then I fetch her a soda. Then I finish up the rest of my long, draining day. By the time I reach the outside of my apartment, my feet are aching to the point where I can barely stand. That’s what happens when you work twelve-hour shifts in shitty, cheap shoes. Closing my eyes and wiping the day from my face, I plant on a cheerful smile and open the door.

What greets me is the reason I breathe.

Black hair, just like his. Big, brown eyes. His, too. A thick mop of dark hair curled on her beautiful head. Devastating. Beautiful.
The light of my life.
She’s sitting on the floor playing with the only toy she owns, a tiny doll that she spends most of her time sucking. The neighbors, Betty and Andy, take her while I’m working and bring her back to Mom just before I can return.

“Hello princess.” I smile, the only true smile I give.

She looks up at me, and even to this day she takes my breath away. She’s exactly like him. There’s a beauty about our daughter that he’ll never know. She was born beautiful and she remains beautiful. She’s nearing twelve months old, meaning it’s been a little less than two years since I walked away from him.

But I came away with something he will never know.

And she’s perfect.

She’s one of the happiest, bubbliest babies I’ve ever encountered. She’s always got a big smile for me, or Mom. It pains me that we’re all she has. I was always the girl who firmly believed every father should know his child. I preached it; I made it known to anyone who kept her children away. I didn’t understand. I had no fucking idea of the fierce love you have for a child, and the lengths you’d go to, to protect them.

I’d die for Penny.
Die for her.

“Hi sweetheart.” My mom smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “How was work?”

I scoop Penny up, heading over and kissing her cheek. “Fine.”

She frowns. “I don’t like it, not at all. I wish there was something I could do. You look exhausted and—”

I reach out and cup her cheek. “Mom, it’s fine.”

“Why don’t you call your father and—”

“No,” I say suddenly. “We made the choice to move here, and start again, so that’s what we’re doing. Things will get better, Mom. It takes time.”

She stares at me. “We’ve had time . . .”

“Mom . . .”

“Katia, please. If we went back, he could help . . .” she whispers.

I turn to her, keeping the fake smile on my face. “Mom, I said it’s fine.”

“Penny deserves—”

“Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t you dare tell me she deserves better . . . that she deserves
him
. No one deserves a god damned monster, Mom.”

Her eyes grow sad, well, sadder. “I just want you to be happy; this isn’t fair. I’m sitting in this chair and you’re working so hard.”

“Mom, I’m doing okay. Things will get better.”

I run my fingers down Penny’s cheek and she looks up at me, smiling. She only has two teeth, but they’re two damned cute teeth. She’s so much like him. I wonder if that’s somewhat of a curse for those who are broken with their ex-lover’s child. They never look like us. Always like them. It’s as though we’re given a constant reminder.

“How was she today?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Andy said she was grizzly. Has she been sleeping?”

I shake my head, bouncing Penny on my hip. “No, I think she’s coming down with something.”

“She has had a runny nose.”

I head into the tiny kitchen. It’s barely big enough to move around freely in, but I somehow manage to create meals in it. I open the small fridge and pull out the peanut butter sandwich I made this morning. I take a bite. Penny reaches for it. “No, baby girl, you could be allergic.” I put her down and get her something more baby friendly, then I pad to my room to kick off my shoes.

There’s a bundle of mail on the bed. I reach down, flicking through it. I come across a pile of bills and my chest clenches. As I open them, I add them up in my head. Three weeks worth of wages, at least. That would be if we didn’t take money to live. We’re falling behind, and right now I don’t have any idea how I’m going to fix that.

How did I go from having it all to having nothing?

Sure, I worked hard at my old job to survive, but this? I’d thought it would be easier. When we moved towns, I figured I could just get a job and we would be fine. Then I found out I was pregnant. There were also no jobs in my field here, being that we no longer live in a city, so jobs in my line of work are scarce. Any savings I had quickly went into bills and debts, as well as care for my mother so I could work.

Soon, I found myself waitressing out of desperation, too proud to go back to him. Nothing could ever lead me back there. I gave up everything. Getting to know my father. My brothers. The whole lot. I just walked out. Candy and Dusty are the only people who know where I am, and they swore they’d never tell.

They didn’t.

He never came.

Every time I think of him, something bitter twists in my heart. I lived through the hurt. For months I was numb. Emotionless. Broken. I cried, I stopped eating, I suffered, and it took a long while to pick myself up. Even now, there’s an emptiness about me. Like I’m not there. I wonder if I’ll ever come back.

Penny appears in the doorway, smiling at me.

“Hi baby,” I croon.

She pulls herself up on the side of my bed. She’s not quite walking, but she’s getting around well. I lean down and kiss her head. Things have been so hard for us, but she’s a truly happy baby. There’s nothing about her that’s not bright and beautiful. If it weren’t for her, I’m not sure how I would have coped.

“Katia?” my mom calls.

“Yeah?”

“Ah, honey, you have a visitor.”

A visitor? Who would be visiting me? I have no friends. I lift Penny into my arms and walk down the hall. When I step into the living area, I gasp. Pain stabs through my heart as I take in my best friend. Dusty stands beside Mom, his face twisted in an emotion I really can’t read. Tears spill over and I rasp, “Dusty.”

“Jesus, Katia.”

I place Penny down and rush towards him. I throw my arms around his body. He holds me tightly, squeezing until it hurts but I don’t care. God, I’ve missed him. So much.

“What’s . . . what is this?”

I pull back, swiping my tears. Dusty hasn’t changed, not a bit. He looks just as gorgeous as he did the day I left. He’s wearing a grey sweater and a pair of black jeans. His hair is messy on his head. He runs a fingertip down my cheek and I struggle to fight back the breakdown threatening to erupt.

“This is where I live.”

He shakes his head. “No. You . . .
no
. . .”

Dusty knew where I was, but he had no idea of my living conditions. No one did. I don’t need pity. People have it so much worse. Some don’t even have a home. I can hardly complain; I have a roof over my head. I had enough savings to get us through for a while, but after Penny things got harder. I’m making it work, just barely, but I am.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

His eyes flick to Penny. “Oh God . . . she’s . . .”

Dusty knows about Penny, but because of his job, he’s not yet had the chance to meet her. He doesn’t get a lot of time off, so it surprises me he’s here now. Not that I’m complaining. I’ve needed him so desperately.

“Just like him,” I finish.

He nods, turning back to me. His eyes scan over my Mom, and then he says, “Can I have a word with Katia?”

“Of course,” Mom says, wheeling towards Penny.

I step outside the apartment and turn to Dusty. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“You lied to me, Katia.”

“I didn’t lie, Dusty. I just didn’t tell you about it.”

“You said you were okay,” he cries.

“I am,” I whisper, reaching out and taking his hand.

His sad expression causes my heart to twist. This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. “How bad is it?” he asks.

“It’s fine.”

“God damn it, I’m your best friend, now tell me how fucking bad it is.”

I flinch.

He reaches out, stroking a finger down my cheek. “Please, honey.”

“It’s bad,” I whisper, lowering my eyes to the ground. “We have no money . . . I can barely afford to feed us.”

“Jesus,” he mutters.

“I have no other choice.”

“Yes, you do. You don’t have to do this.”

I jerk my head up and glare at him. “What do you think I can do?”

“You have us; you have your dad . . .”

My heart aches, an unfamiliar sensation travelling through my body. My father. A man I abandoned without getting to know. I have no choice. I know this.

“I can’t go back there. You know I can’t,” I say, my voice trembling.

“You can.”

“No, if I go back, I have to face . . .”

“Marcus?”

I flinch.

“Jesus, Katia, you can’t hide forever. It’s been long enough. Go home, divorce him, move on with your life.”

Divorce.

Something that still hasn’t been done.

“I don’t know if I can face him,” I stammer. “I don’t want him to know about Penny and—”

“He doesn’t need to know unless you want him to. You divorce him, you leave. Your father will protect you.”

“He’ll find out about her. If I go back . . .”

“And you don’t think that he has the right to know?” he says, gently.

My heart twists. “No. He deserves nothing.”

“Katia . . .”

“We’re fine here, Dusty.”

“No you’re not,” he yells. “Fuck me, you’re living in a shitty apartment, struggling to survive. Your clothes have fucking patches on them. Your mother looks starving. What the fuck are you doing? You don’t have to live like this!”

“I don’t have a choice!” I scream.

“You have a father willing to help, friends . . .”

“I can’t . . .”

He shakes his head, sadly. “If it was just about you, I wouldn’t push, but it’s not just about you, Katia. It’s about your mom and your daughter. They’re suffering because your pride won’t let you help them. Think about that.”

“How dare you?” I whisper, my voice a deadly hiss.

“Katia,” he says, carefully. “I’m not trying to be an asshole . . . but you don’t have to live like this.”

I close my eyes, fighting against the burn starting in my nose and working its way up until tears spill over my eyelids.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. “Come back, sort it out, make a life for you and your daughter.”

“Dusty, please.”

He pulls me into his arms. “Just think about it. We can help you. If I had known it was like this, that you were lying to me . . . I would have come sooner.”

I nod, even though there’s no way I’ll go back there.
No way.

“Why are you here?” I ask, pulling back.

“Surprise visit,” he mutters, then throws his hands up. “Surprise.”

I laugh softly.

“Well,” I say, stepping closer and wrapping my arms around him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

D
usty stays for three days before I know it gets too much for him. He doesn’t say it, but I felt his tension. He made me promise to keep calling, and begged me to think about coming home. I said I would, knowing full well that it wasn’t going to happen. I know he means well, but he’ll never understand the emptiness in my heart.

I spend the rest of the week working. My shifts are longer, morning until night, and by the time I get home and play with Penny for a few hours, I’m exhausted. I pass out, only to have to get up and do it again. It’s repetitive, my boss is an asshole and I make minimum wage. I think a lot about my father, wondering if he’s thinking about me.

Has he searched for us?

When the weekend rolls around, I take Mom and Penny to the diner for lunch. We don’t do it often, and it’s wonderful to occasionally do something nice. I can’t really afford it, but my tips were good on Friday night, so I spared a tiny amount for us to enjoy a burger. Mom barely touches hers, and I watch as she pokes around, shoving the food across her plate.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

She looks up at me, and her eyes are quite red. “Have you been sleeping, Mom?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’ve just got a headache. I think I need to go home and rest.”

I narrow my eyes. “Have you had this headache often?”

Her eyes dart away and my heart plummets. She’s been keeping it from me. Oh God, she’s been suffering, and I didn’t even know.

“Mom?” I whisper.

“I’m fine, Katia. I’m just tired.”

“Something is wrong. You’re having trouble again, aren’t you?”

“It’s nothing.”

I close my eyes, fighting back my tears. The waitress comes over and I pay her before standing and helping Mom back to the apartment. It’s not a long walk, but by the time we’re back she’s panting and clutching her head.