Tara
I hit my snooze one more time but I know it is time to drag my backside out of this bed. I snuggle down into my pillow and shut my eyes. It seems like I just shut them for a second and the alarm is blaring again. “If that damn thing goes off again, I am going to throw it against the damn wall,” Sheila complains loudly. When is Sheila not complaining? I reach up and turn the alarm off and sit up and twist around so my feet are now touching the cold linoleum floor.
“I’m going to need a ride to the gym. I have to meet the new owner today and give them all my information so I can keep my job when it reopens.” I poke my sister in the side. I hear her growl.
My sister Shelia may be older than me but she doesn’t act it. I am the middle child at twenty-two. Shelia is four years older than me at twenty-six and our younger brother, Josiah but we call him Joey, is twenty and he is away being all he can be in the army. Joey wants to make the military his career. He decided at the age of eight he was going to be a soldier and he wouldn’t let anything, namely my mom and sister, get in his way. I am very proud of Joey doing exactly what he wants with his life.
I, on the other hand, am still a work in progress. I have no idea what I want to do with my life but I know I want out of the life I have. I am a part-time student with a full-time job at a diner. Can you call a waitress job full-time? I work at least forty hours a week, usually more like fifty hours but there is no extra overtime pay, and I don’t even make minimum wage. I do make tips but they are so unpredictable. I took on a part-time job at the gym to supplement my income so maybe I would be able to take more than three classes at the community college next semester. I thought I was getting ahead but then the gym was sold and closed for repairs.
I am back to just my waitress job and I barely can afford the classes I am taking now but fortunately, they are paid, I need to get busy putting money away for next semester. After I pay my part of the rent, give gas money to my sister, and help mom with groceries, I feel like a puppy chasing his own tail. I can never get ahead.
My sister Sheila is always between jobs. Her job is finding her another man to pay her part of the bills. She is cursed, just like my mom. I call it a curse anyway. If they don’t have a man by their sides, helping pay their way, they cannot function. Which is why my sister is complaining about my alarm. She stays out half the night partying with her flavor of the month. She drags her butt into bed about the time I am getting up.
Today is my day off but I never get the chance to sleep in. The job at the gym fit into my schedule perfectly. I work Monday through Friday from 6 am to 2 pm or when my relief gets there. Bud’s daughter works the weekend shift since she is in high school and can’t work during the week. Three nights a week I attend my classes. The other two nights a week I was working at the gym, along with ten hours on Saturday and Sunday. Full and busy schedule but the money came in handy, and it’s not like it is forever.
On the positive side, all the hours I put in also kept me away from my mom’s and Sheila’s many men coming into our apartment. When Joey went off to the army we downsized from a three bedroom to a two. That means Sheila and I share a room. That can be very uncomfortable when she brings someone home. I usually end up on the couch, which means I must sleep with one eye open. More than once I have been woken up by some man trying to undress me. I learned to sleep with a knife under my pillow. I have fought them all off but it gets old, real fast. The only other choice I have is to sleep in the room while my sister has sex with some man. Not happening. Time to quit thinking about my screwed up life and get to the gym. “Did you hear me? I need a ride.”
“Just take the damn car. I am not getting out of bed until noon.” I like that idea better. It’s not often Sheila lets me drive her car. It’s not that it is anything special but it is more than what I have. The way I look at it, if I get an education then I can buy a car when I get a better paying job. I help Sheila with the up-keep of hers.
Sheila was gifted her car from one of her married boyfriends. Why any woman would date a married man is beyond me. I mean, if the man is cheating on the woman he went to all the trouble to marry, doesn’t that scream he is going to cheat on every woman he is with?
Something else Sheila learned from mom. Mom is of the mind that if a woman wants to keep a man at home she needs to keep him happy. My question has always been, isn’t that a copout? I mean, doesn’t it take two to keep a relationship together? My mom says I still believe in fairy tales. My number one reason for not dating. Trust no one. There’s a big difference between saying I love you, then actually loving someone.
I want none of any of it. I dated in high school. The boys always cheated on me. I lost my virginity to a guy I dated for six months and then the next day he broke up with me. He never really broke up with me, he just moved on and never spoke to me again. I haven’t dated since.
“Where are the keys?” I ask Sheila. She points to the nightstand and rolls over to cover her head.
I just look at her for a moment I wonder if she will ever grow up. Sheila is everything I am not. She has short bleached blonde hair that makes her blue eyes stand out. She never leaves the apartment without looking perfect. When I say perfect I mean she knows exactly how to apply her makeup to make herself gorgeous.
She has the kind of body men love. She’s tall and has long tan legs, even if she does get them from a tanning bed. She has a tiny waist and one of her married male friends paid for her double D breast. I sound jealous even to myself. I am short at my five-foot two-inch height. I like to think of myself as not short, but vertically challenged. My legs are not long but they are toned and tanned. I have never been inside a tanning bed. I do it the old fashion way. My boobs aren’t overly large but they are a C cup. My belly is a little rounded. It doesn’t matter how many sit-ups I do, it just won’t go away. My biggest drawback is all the junk in my trunk. I can run and exercise, it just isn’t going away. It doesn’t jiggle a lot but it’s there. Skinny jeans are not my friend.
I don’t beat myself about it too bad. I love to eat. It’s my cross to bear. I can accept that. I never dress up and very seldom wear make-up. Why? In the Oklahoma humidity, it will just melt off. My hair on a good day is in a messy bun but most days just pulled up in a hair tie. Mom and Sheila are always telling me I will never land a man the way I look when I go out. News flash, I’m not looking for one. I miss Joey. He loves me just the way I am. No judgement.
“Fill it up and check the tires. I am going to be leaving this afternoon so don’t be back late.” I know there is no use arguing or Sheila won’t let me borrow her car. I don’t have the time or patience to be riding the bus.
“I only have twenty dollars so it will have to be enough. I’m only going twenty minutes away.” Sheila eyes me to see if I am telling the truth. I don’t know why. I don’t ever lie to her.
“Fine, but don’t be late.”
I head to the bathroom to get this day started. I take a hot shower. Being the first one up does have it bonuses. I would love to stay in here and relax and enjoy the hot water but I don’t want to be late. I want to make a good impression because I really want to keep my job. I don’t know who bought the place but I am a hard worker, maybe Sal told them. Sal is the old manager. He decided to retire when the owners, who were never around, decided to sell out.
I don’t bother to dry my hair I just pull it up in a high ponytail. I put on some cargo jeans and a tank top and then pull on one of my comfortable hoodies because the mornings are still a little cool but by mid-afternoon it will be hot. Early springtime in Oklahoma. I grab a pair of socks and my work boots. These boots have caused more than one argument with my mom. She says they are the ugliest things she has ever seen. I am more into comfort than fashion.
I make my way into the kitchen and pull a chair out to sit in while I put my boots on. I must admit the combat boots have seen better days but I refuse to let them go. It’s hard to find boots in a size four. I will get every mile out of them that I can. I open the refrigerator to see if we have milk for cereal but no such luck. I open the cabinet to look for bread and strike out again. Looks like it will be water for breakfast. I run a glass and reach for my vitamins in the cabinet. They are empty too. I guess it is time to do some shopping. My last twenty is going in the gas tank. I guess I will need to go by the diner and see if I can work a few hours today to get enough money to eat. I don’t even have a phone to be able to call. When I go to the gas station I will stop in. Today is going to hell real fast.