“You’re right. Three should be enough.”
But I stuff an extra pair of diapers into the already bursting bag. Just in case.
“I wish I could be there for my niece’s first day of daycare. Are you going to be okay?”
I know Clare means well, but she’s halfway down the country on her first tour and I don’t want to saddle her with my worries.
It’s been just the two of us for as long as I can remember, and I had to forcibly make her take the job or she wouldn’t have left me and Layla on our own. Her theatre group is touring its show around the state, and I couldn’t ask her to turn down the opportunity.
I wish you could be here too, I silently say. But I don’t want Clare to know how bad things have gotten here.
“We’ll be fine. I’m really looking forward to starting work.”
I say it so brightly that I almost convince myself.
The truth us, I’m scared about leaving Layla with strangers. Sure, we’ve had settling in days at the daycare, but this is the first time in the nine months since she came into my life that I’ll be away from her for more than an a few hours. And even then, it’s only a five-hour shift.
There’s a cry from the next room, letting me know that Layla doesn’t like being left on her own.
“I better go, Clare. Good luck with the show tonight.”
“Good luck with the daycare drop-off. Call if you need me.”
We hang up, and I stuff my phone into my pocket and grab the overstuffed day bag.
Layla’s in the next room where I left her propped up with cushions and her favorite caterpillar toy.
Her face lights up when she sees me, making my heart warm and letting me know that despite everything—despite wearing secondhand clothes and having hot water only on Sundays, despite giving up going out with friends, despite giving up everything but looking after her—it’s all worth it.
“Hey, sweetie, you ready to go?”
I pick her up and shoulder the bag, which is way heavier than it should be. I have a fleeting worry that I haven’t packed enough of her favorite snacks but rationalize that the daycare provides food so there’s bound to be something she likes. I grab a banana and jam it in the front pocket of the bag just in case.
Then I’m out the door.
Bertha’s the most beat-up car in the parking lot of our block of one and two-bedroom apartments. I strap Layla in and slide into the passenger seat, trying not to get my clothes caught on the wire springs that are poking through the vinyl seats in alarmingly increasing areas.
The engine makes a horrible chugging sound when I turn the key, and I pray to the car gods that whatever force has kept Bertha alive longer than she should continues to be strong and hold her together for just a few more months.
“Come on, Bertha.”
A few more months is all I need. A few months of work to get the bills paid and put a little aside every month for a new car. Or at least a less old one.
The car gods must be listening because Bertha splutters to life.
“You beauty.”
Layla giggles as I pat the dashboard affectionately, and I adjust my mirror to see her smile in the rearview. I could spend all day looking at that smile.
But I need to look after her in other ways, so unfortunately that’s not an option anymore. Swallowing down my mother’s guilt, I reverse out of the parking space.
It’s a short drive to the daycare, the only one I could find with fees low enough to make going to work worthwhile.
I won’t be earning much over what it costs me to send her there at first, but I’m confident that over time my income will increase and just getting back to working will be worth it.
We pull into the daycare parking lot, and as if sensing my concerns, Layla gives an uneasy wail.
“It’s all right, sweetie. You’re going to have a fun day today, meet new friends.”