Chapter 1
"Vivian Heart!" My scream echoes through the tiny apartment, "We're going to be late!"
It's Monday morning, my shift is about to start, and if I don't get there on time . . . I'll be there on time. If I could only get my four-and-a-half-year-old, who insists on changing her shoes for the third time this morning, out of the house. Okay, she changes her shoes every morning, but today we woke up late.
"Sorry Mama." She comes panting, carrying her small backpack. Her blond hair is pulled up to a tight ponytail and her blue eyes are fixed on me. "I'm ready."
She doesn't look like me. Objectively, I can testify that she didn't inherit my dark red hair nor my green eyes. At least I can take comfort in the fact that she has inherited her sharp mind from the right person.
"Hurry." I open the front door and turn to lock the house before rushing the bouncing creature toward the battered, silver Toyota also known as my car. After buckling Vivian up in her seat, I jump behind the wheel, say a prayer and turn the key. Thank God.
I swing into reverse and exit the driveway. In seven minutes I'll drop Viv at her daycare, in twelve minutes I'll start my shift and, with a little luck, no one will notice. I can't afford to lose this job.
Although I am just a saleswoman at Blant Furniture store, it's the one place that has agreed to give me only the morning shifts, and the tight salary pays the bills. Barely. Not that I complain, I have no right to. I've made my choices. I use my family's help much more than I would like, but that's how it goes. Vivian is worth it. All the sacrifices, all the losses.
"Mama, the light is green," Viv calls from the backseat.
"Sorry, sweetie." I accelerate and cross the intersection. Morning traffic can be brutal. If it was up to me, we'd live in a quieter part of town, but this is all I can afford—the same small house I've been living in since I was eighteen. Not far from the city-center, it’s within driving distance of everything.
Our town is a strange place to live in. It seems that it hasn't yet decided whether it is a small town, where everyone meddles in each other's lives, or a modern city, where people maintain a safe distance and privacy. Just an hour's drive from Dallas, it has an excellent high school, convenient public transport and parks. In recent years, tall buildings have begun rising at a rapid pace, changing the landscape beyond recognition, but I suppose it's like that everywhere. The high-tech offices and the new cultural centers are the city's way of attracting new residents.
"You're dreaming." Vivian laughs loudly. Yes, she got his laughter too. That bastard, couldn't he leave me one thing?
"We all dream," I answer her, smiling in the rearview mirror. "What are you dreaming of?"
"An Elsa dress." Her answer is expected.
"For your birthday," I reply, as usual. I don't have one cent to spare. Luckily the dress isn't that expensive.
"And I want an Elsa cake and a trampoline for the back yard," she adds.
"We'll see about that." I force my laughter. She would have to make do with the dress. She knows I can't buy her a trampoline for the yard.
"We're here," my beauty calls out. I park in the designated place, unbuckle my seatbelt, get out of the car, pull Viv out of her car seat and rush inside. Mrs. Robbins greets us as she helps Vivian with her goodbye.
"Have a wonderful day," I kiss her golden hair.
"You too, Mama." She sends me a kiss in the air, I pretend to catch it and stick it to my cheek, then I run out the door, and into my car.
Time to go to work.
Sixteen minutes later I lock my Toyota in the parking lot of the shopping center, curse the traffic jams that have caused me a longer than usual delay, and hasten my steps to the shop, making an effort to ignore the sign hanging on the door.
For Rent.
Mr. Blunt hung it twenty-eight days ago and from that moment we all got nervous. Does this mean now I'll have to look for a new job?
Henry, who has been working with me for two years, wasted no time opening the paper and circling every position he found fit. We both know this won't be easy. Knowing each other since middle school, Henry is pretty much the only friend I have these days. After all, we were both the “Library Geeks” who had big dreams…and never fulfilled them.
You gave up everything for that bastard and see what you got in return?
I open the store's door and find Henry is staring at me disapprovingly from behind the cash register. I hand him my bag and he pushes it under the dark wooden counter.
"You know," I'm afraid he's going to start with another mathematical explanation like he likes to do, "you're late an average ten days a month. You're losing about five hundred and twenty-two dollars every year."
"About?" The calculated accuracy makes me smile. "Couldn't you round it to five hundred?"
"You know what I mean." He doesn't seem to like my mocking tone.
"How many cups of coffee could I buy for that sum?" I lower my head with a grin.
"Starbucks?" He frowns as he calculates, but I hasten to stop him.
"It was a joke."
"Oh." He shrugs.
"Did you find a job?" I change the subject, to both of our relief.
"No. You?"
"Nah."
"Have you even been looking?" He knows me too well.
"Didn't have the time," I lie, knowing he won't say anything.
"Oh."
"We need to expand your vocabulary, dear." I fix my red mane to a tight ponytail and push my locks behind my ears.
"Mr. Blunt will be in at ten," Henry updates me. "Do you want to wash the floor or dust?"
Indeed, such a difficult choice. Mr. Blunt, our boss, is in his sixties and, if it weren't for his back problems, which prevent him from cleaning the store and moving heavy furniture around, I might not have a job.
"Dust," I reply without thinking too much about it.
"Okay." Henry straightens his white button shirt, which rests carelessly on his body. His brown hair is as messy as it is on every other morning. Come to think of it, Henry isn't a lean, awkward guy, as you’d expect him to be given his mannerisms. He's tall, his eyes are brown, and when he smiles his eyes smile too, which makes him look good.
Not my taste, but I'm sure he's someone's taste. "You have to get a haircut," I throw him a glance as I make my way to the storeroom.
"In three days," he mumbles from behind me, as we get ready for another day of perfect boredom.
How long have we got left here? Neither of us has a clue.
"I didn't hit him back!" Vivian stands in front of me in the middle of our living room, an angry look on her face, her hands folded and tears of insult running down her cheeks. So she did inherit something from me after all. Great.
"Mrs. Robbins said," I answer quietly.
"She's lying!"
"Vivian, Mrs. Robbins doesn't lie," I try not to raise my voice. It would be easiest to send her to her room—
To our room, I remind myself instantly. The lousy house has one bedroom, in which I managed to cram a bed for my child. Colin and I rented the place, in what seems to be another life. We were only eighteen and had plans to move after I gave birth. Plans I had shelved for lack of choice. At least we have a back yard and parking, I try to cheer myself up.
"He started it," Vivian's weeping interrupts my memories.
"You know it doesn't matter who started it, we don't hit."
"He deserved it." She wipes the tears with her little palm.
"Next time, I want you to go to Mrs. Robbins and ask for her help."
"Okay."
"Okay." I spread my arms in a gesture of reconciliation. She hastens to cling to me resting her head on my stomach, reminding me, in one embrace, why everything was worth it.
"I love you, sweetie," I whisper to her. "Let's make dinner."
"I want pizza." She sniffs.
"We can definitely make pizza." I never spend money on Take-out. Not with my kitchen skills.
"I wanna watch TV."
"Sure, hon." I release her from my embrace, pick up the remote control, and turn on the old television that is doing me a huge favor and not dying on me. Viv climbs onto the sofa that is covered with a burgundy cloth blanket, the sole purpose of which is to conceal the stubborn stains I couldn't remove. I've owned it for six years and will own it for another six, if it's up to me.
"Frozen," she commands me with a smile. I turn on the DVD and the movie begins.
"I'm in the kitchen," I say, as if she could miss me. The kitchen is right behind her.
"Shh!" She puts a finger to her mouth as the film runs. I kiss her, go into the kitchen, take a bowl out of the cupboard, and get ready to make the pizza. Thank God for Anna and Elsa and small favors.
Hours later, I close the cramped bedroom door, crash on the sofa and stare at the ceiling. Nine o'clock in the evening, the kitchen is clean, the house is tidy and my child is asleep.
Just another day, like all the previous days and all those that will follow. This isn't how I imagined it would be. In spite of the effort to push those thoughts back to where they came from, they are getting the best of me tonight. I pray not to cry. Vivian might suddenly wake up and panic. She never sees me crying.
When she was younger, I would run to the bathroom and sob, my face buried in a towel. Now that she’s older I can't hide from her. She sees my red eyes and always demands explanations. I learned to stifle the lump in my throat and wait for the hours when she slept. The hours when I drop down on the couch exhausted, wondering how I got here.
At twenty-six this is my life. No college degree, no savings, no husband.
If only Vivian looked more like me, everything would be easier. If only she looked less like him. Sometimes I allow myself to wonder what would have happened if he hadn't approached me that day. If he hadn't appeared at my door that afternoon. What if it had all been a joke at my expense, that the captain of the football team had decided to play a little game with the “Library Geek” and made me sit at home waiting for him in vain?
But he didn't play, not even for a minute, and he didn't pretend I was air, as I expected him to, and the glances he threw my direction changed every day, and my breath accelerated every time he appeared. Each time he sat next to me in my bedroom and his thigh touched my thigh. He didn't understand the material, and yet he never gave up. He insisted and tried harder. I couldn't help but admire him even more. I couldn't help falling in love with him.
I never thought Colin Young would be my first kiss.
Never thought he would be the one who took my virginity.
The one for whom I would give up everything.
Life played a cruel game on me, devouring the cards, leaving me at the age of twenty-six crying quietly on the sofa for what I still can't understand.