Chapter One
Rylee
Swollen, fat clouds loom in a dreary gray sky, ready to burst. Today’s been one for the books. Between the fight in front of the store, a refrigeration unit breaking down, and my co-worker calling off, I’m exhausted. And it’s not even two-thirty in the afternoon yet. Police intervention is never a good time. If I were the suspicious type, I’d wonder if something hexed me. The telephone rings, and I eye it with disdain. Heart in my throat, I answer the beige throwback corded phone from the nineties.
“Zippy’s gas station. How may I help you?” I pretend enthusiasm as I wait for one of the bizarre questions customers ask
“May I speak to Rylee Paulson?”
“This is she.” Images of something happening to my son at his daycare run through my head. I’ve had no issues with Jaycee so far.
Has my luck finally run out?It’d be the icing on the crap cake I’ve been served today.
“This is Michelle Yen, the Apple Brook Care Center director.” Relief washes over me, only to be replaced by a sick feeling of dread.
“I didn’t recognize your voice, Michelle. Is everything alright with my aunt?” I hold my breath in anticipation of the blow heading my way.
“Maureen is fine, but we need you to come in today to discuss her future.” I swallow around the tightness in my throat. “We’ve enjoyed having your aunt here for the past five years, but I think we agree with her—” Michelle hesitates. “Recent changes in her behavior sped up our original plans for her care.”
I can hear the sympathy in the petite woman’s gentle voice. I run my fingers over the charm bracelet my aunt and I carefully curated over the years. The silver flashes under the overhead lights. I’ve known this day was coming for some time, and I’m still not ready to do what needs to be done.
“It’s time we make definitive arrangements to transfer her to our sister facility specializing in dementia and Alzheimer’s.”
Nearly an hour away, the highly trained staff will see to her needs. The distance will cut down on how frequently I can visit and take every bit of money she’s allotted.
Aunt Maureen’s been hell on wheels for weeks. This is the right move for her. Memories of the strong woman who’d raised me since my mother lost her battle with cancer, when I was thirteen, pierces my heart like a serrated knife. Alzheimer’s is a silent thief, stealing her away with small bites. Shoulders slumping, I pull the trigger.
“I’ll be there by three-thirty to begin the paperwork for the transfer.”
“I’ll be looking for you.”
Shaken, I take a minute to compose myself, smoothing imaginary hairs back into place among my curls. I catch my reflection in the glass of the cigarette cabinet. I still haven’t lost the twenty pounds that would put me at my pre-baby weight of a size sixteen. Though I like the curves, it's added to my body. It’s my large dark brown eyes that kill my soul. I look sad. The front door swings open with a bell ring, and I spin around, happy to turn my attention away from the dark circles under my eyes.
I dart from behind the counter as Jared walks toward me with a bright white smile. His shaggy blondish brown hair frames a round face. He’d started working for the gas station a few months ago when he began his first year of college.
“That good today?” he asks.
“Not bad, just long. I have you all stocked up. I’ve balanced the drawer. Someone should arrive around six to repair the cooler. I’m headed to the back to make the deposit into the safe.” I don’t have the energy to fake a smile as I rush to the back office.
Time is always in short supply when I’m working both jobs, which is five out of seven days. Closing the office door behind me, I pull out the deposit forms and make my final count. My mind drifts as I fill out the blank slots. If I push it, I’ll be able to take care of my business with Apple Brook before I pick Jayce up from childcare and get him settled in with the babysitter in our apartment.
After finishing the closing paperwork, I rip the paper off the pad, slide the carbon copy into the bag, and seal it. I drop it in the heavy safe in the corner and put the other copy in the black plastic box where Dale likes it. I glance down at the watch on my wrist. It’s three o’clock. If I hurry, I can catch the bus that arrives in fifteen minutes, spend time with Aunt Maureen and make it to the childcare center by four-thirty. Grabbing my black pack off the peg, I slip my arms in and do my best impression of The Flash as I sweep through the back, wave at Jared, and jog out the door. I reach the bus stop two streets over just as it pulls up. The door swings inward, and people flood out with various shades of exhaustion painted across their faces.
With gas prices spiking, food costs creeping up when you’re not looking, and rent doubling, most people feel the squeeze. As a single parent with nothing more than a high school diploma and a year of college, I wouldn’t dream of placing myself in the middle-class category. We’re lower income, but we’ve gotten by comfortably until recently. My bank account is dwindling, my pay is flatlined, and the living costs continue rising like lava before a volcanic eruption. My chest squeezes, and I inhale, ignoring my aching feet. I pulled a double shift last night, trying to rebuild my nest egg. I’m feeling it in every step up the stairs into the massive vehicle with faded blue plastic seats with a polka dot pattern on the fabric.
Snagging a seat in the front, I plop down, hit the classic rock playlist, and press my head against the cool glass as Steve Perry insists I continue to believe. The sound drops out, and my heart skips a beat.Please don’t die on me, baby. You make traveling tolerable.I mentally beseech the electronic gods to spare my earbuds. I breathe a sigh of relief, realizing it’s just an incoming call. When Brandy’s number pops up, I feel my butthole pucker.
“Hello?”
“Rylee. I hate to do this, but I have an emergency I need to take care of. I won’t be able to babysit little man tonight.”
Sighing, I close my eyes. “These things happen. Is everything okay?”
“It will be. My mom slipped in the tub, and we think she sprained her ankle. I’ll be in the ER and then helping her get situated at home.”
“I hate to hear that. Take care of your mom. We’ll be just fine. Thank you for calling me.” This is exactly why I don’t leave The Diner. Lena and George are flexible and family-minded. They don’t mind when I bring Jaycee when things like this happen. I won’t flirt with my customers while my son’s around, so I can kiss the high-dollar tips goodbye.
“Always.”