my boots, wince in pain, and head for the shower. She talks to me while I wash my hair, close my eyes, and let the water rinse away the last vestiges of my fury. She talks to me while I rub antibiotic ointment on my blistered heels and then cover them in Band-Aids. And she’s still talking as I lie down on the couch and close my eyes, telling myself I’m only going to rest for a little while. I conk out.
Saturday morning, my mom wakes us up at 5:30 AM with pancakes. I want to hate her for it, but I can’t. She has to leave extra early because she’s catching a ride with a friend to get to Livingston for her classes and she has to get on the road by six. This way, we get to have breakfast together before she leaves. She doles out pancakes on my plate and kisses my hair, and it’s still dark out and we don’t even have syrup, but I don’t mind one bit. My heart is full.
As soon as she’s gone, McKenna and I run for the couch and huddle under blankets. We spend the whole morning watching whatever random shows our antenna manages to pick up, trying hard to become fused with the couch fibers. We do a pretty good job of it until I have to begrudgingly get up to make us lunch.
McKenna proves to be a perfect distraction from the worries of life, one I didn’t even realize I needed until she announces that she’s going out with some friends for milkshakes. Nothing crazy—they’re just going to hang out at Whataburger. Ah, the life of a teenager in rural Texas.
“No drugs,” I emphasize as she heads out the door. “And no drinking.”
“Taylor, I’m going with Lillian and Brittany. Lilian’s mom will be with us the whole time.”
I know McKenna’s friends. Lilian’s in band and the president of the freshman honor society, and Brittany is on the robotics team and captain of the freshman soccer team. Sure, that could all just be a front for the fact that they’re really all drug-addicted partiers, but I think they’re too smart for that. They’ve made a pact. They all want to go to the same college, and I know they can make it happen if they stick together.
I give her a few dollars—money we don’t really have to spare at the moment—before waving her off. Then I head back inside the quiet trailer. My mom was supposed to be home by now but a coworker called in sick at the grocery store so she picked up an extra shift after her class. I feel guilty that she’s having to do it. I know she’s probably exhausted. I wish I’d come home for the weekend with my full paycheck instead of the measly few bucks Ethan threw my way. It would have gone a long way to getting us back on our feet, especially considering I’m not sure what I’ll be doing for work now.
I’ve been avoiding the dilemma all day, but tomorrow is Sunday and I have to make a decision.
I can’t just go back to the motel. I had to put in my notice there when I accepted the job with Lockwood Construction. Sure, I could go back and grovel at my manager’s feet, but just the thought makes my dignity scream out in protest. I hated that job and I hated how little they paid me.
I could apply for work somewhere else, but I’ve been in this town long enough to know that’s a dead-end road. There are a few decent jobs around Oak Dale, but not for someone who barely graduated from high school. The familiar twinge of resentment over my lack of education settles in the pit of my stomach.
If we could afford to get our car out of the shop, I could drive into Livingston or another nearby city to look for work, but even that would be a major waste of gas and time, and there’d be no telling how well the car would hold up if I was driving it around that much.
With a heartbreaking sigh, I realize I’m just as stuck now as I was four years ago. I’ve been working so hard trying to claw my way out of this hole life tossed me into only to slide right back down to the bottom time and time again.
My job with Lockwood Construction was the first sign of hope I’d had in