- The Struggle is Real

Life is funny. You work so hard to make a good life and then one day it all gets ripped out from underneath of you. All you can do is rebuild, but again, life throws out curve balls, and you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper. This is my life. It hasn’t always been a struggle. My life used to be great. I had family who loved me unconditionally and I made friends everywhere I went. My best friend was always there for me no matter what, he was my rock...until he wasn’t. His parents split up and they moved away at the end of Knox’s junior year. I never heard from him again.

These days I am on my own, trying to make ends meet. College was a no go for me because I needed to work. At twenty-four, all I’ve been able to do is work low-paying jobs. After losing my father to a car accident my sophomore year of high school, I had to find work to help my mom pay the bills. My father’s life insurance policy didn’t pay out due to the insurance company believing that my father caused the crash on purpose. They believed him to be suicidal, but we all knew him better than that. My father would never take his life, or any other life for that matter. So, without the life insurance, it didn’t take long to go through my parent’s savings.

In the end, we ended up losing the house and had to sell most of our stuff. We found ourselves in a low-income apartment on the bad side of town. The side of town that anyone with a brain would stay far away from. Drug deals on every corner, shootings every other day, and I can’t forget the working girls who put themselves out there all day long trying to make a few dollars just so they can pay their pimp. It’s what dreams are made of…not.

Mom took up cleaning houses and was usually gone most of the day. I’d come home, change my clothes, and head over to the local grocery store for a few hours. By the time I get home, my mother was usually there with a little supper waiting for me. It was never much, but it kept me somewhat fed. After supper, I would do my homework and then go to bed just so I could do it all again the next

day. I didn’t have time for friends or hobbies. It was just my mom and me against the big cruel world.

Just over a year ago, mom was walking home from the train station and got caught up in a drive-by shooting. Two bullets struck her. One was just a shoulder wound, but the second pierced her head. She’s been in a coma ever since. In the beginning, the doctors said that there may be a slight chance that she could wake up, but lately they have been telling me that after all this time, she most likely won’t. I can’t let go…not yet. I’ve heard of people being in a coma for years and then one day they just wake up. My mom is all I have. People tend to disappear from my life, leaving me all alone. I’ve come to terms with that, I still have mom. She is still breathing, so I won’t give up.

The crowd is a little rowdy tonight at the dive that I bartend at. Sweaty bodies rub against each other as they try to get the attention of one of us serving the drinks. Kat called in tonight due to having a sick kid at home, so that leaves Dion and myself here to slay the rowdy beasts. Nobody has patience when it comes to getting drunk. The more they drink, the more demanding they are. What’s worse is when they think I will serve them faster if they flirt with me. If anything, I ignore them even when they are calling my name and waving their money around. I pick and choose how I earn my tips. I will not stoop that low as to flirt with just any average Joe.

Tonight’s live band was an extremely popular local band, who always brings in a great crowd. Unfortunately, it also brings in all the assholes that think they’re God’s gift to women. The cheesy pick-up lines that I’ve heard over the years could be made into a Book for Dummies…literally. I can’t even deal with half the idiots that think spending their hard-earned money at the bar, with shitty pick-up lines that will lead them to meeting a good woman that they can take home to their mama. At least not at this bar. The only thing they will pick up and take home is an STD.

Movement to my left as I’m pouring a whiskey and coke grabs my attention. I look up too late. All I see is the back side of some douchebag that just made off with my jar of tips. I try to run after the guy, but the crowd is too thick, and I end up getting shoved back behind the bar. I’m pissed. The night is almost over, and my jar was full of my hard-earned money. There goes at least a couple hundred bucks that I could have used to pay on some of my mom’s hospital bills. People are cruel. Those are the kind of people that have slowly drained me of my faith in the human race. I used to be happy and friendly with everyone. Now all I want to do is flip off anyone who tries to talk to me.

My boss, Frank, who has been hanging out in his back office, finally shows his face behind the bar. I glare at him briefly, before finishing up the whisky and coke, that I was working on before I got robbed. Frank wanders over to where I’m working and watches me work. The guy gives me the creeps, but he’s never tried anything with me, so I deal with it. After giving the customer their change, I turn back towards my boss, catching him staring at my ass. I can’t deal with this shit any more tonight.

I throw my hands up in the air, “I’m done for the night, Frank. I’m going home.” Shoving my way past him, I head toward the backroom where we keep our belongings during our shifts.

Frank follows closely on my heels, “It’s not two yet. Get your ass back out there!”

I swing around on him, “Who’s idea was it to have the Live band here tonight, huh?” I cross my arms, “You wanted them, and yet you sat your lazy ass back in your office while we got hammered!” His face turns red with anger, but I stop him from saying anything by putting my hand in his face, “My jar of tips got stolen tonight because we were too short-handed. I needed that money, Frank!”

Frank grabs my purse from the hanger and throws it at me, “You want to leave early? Fine, go ahead. I’ll mail you your last check!” He turns and walks away, not waiting for my response.

I stand there with my mouth open for a few seconds before the anger takes over. Before I realize what I’m doing, I find myself standing next to Frank behind the bar. Dion is trying to slip past me carrying a pitcher of beer. I grab the full pitcher and dump it over Frank’s head. Dion gasps and then laughter breaks out from the customers around the bar.

“Fuck you, Frank!” I spin and shove my way through the crowd, pushing anyone that gets in my way aside, until I burst through the door and into fresher air.

Sunlight filters in through the cracks around my window blinds. I roll over the other way as I groan, cursing at the morning for coming way too soon. Pulling the covers over my head to try and make it dark again for me to fall back to sleep, I kick my legs in a little tantrum when it doesn’t work. My body’s internal clock is telling me to get up before I’m late for work.

I throw the covers off me and stomp to the bathroom, grabbing my robe off its hook behind the door as I go. I turn the water on in the dingy bathtub before pulling the nozzle for the shower. The spray isn’t much but at least I can get clean. Standing under the weak shower spray, I think back to last night and curse. I lean my forehead against the cracked wall and just try to breathe. I needed that job. I don’t know why I let my anger get the best of me, especially in situations like that. I know I took it too far with the boss, and I would have done the same thing if the tables were turned, but I couldn’t help myself. After taking a few moments to just stand under the water and try to relax my body and mind, I shake it all off and continue with my shower. Before too long, I’m dressed and ready to head out to my next job.

Housekeeping is not my favorite job, but it does help pay the bills, and now I will have to either pick up some more houses to clean or get more hours at the diner that I work, at as well. Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m not bartending anymore. My schedule was a little hectic, and it’s not like the bar itself was a great establishment, but it did bring in good money at times.

The first house on my schedule is a nice elderly couple that my mom used to work for. They are sweet and always makes sure that I have a hearty breakfast before I start my work. The wife greets me as I walk in the back door as she scoops eggs onto a plate. She smiles her greeting and points to the chair at the table, indicating that I need to sit down. I learned not to argue with her over anything, because I will never win.

Once I finish the eggs, bacon, and toast, along with a glass of orange juice, I get to work on cleaning up the kitchen. I always bring along ear buds so I can listen to music while I clean. It makes the time go by faster and I feel as though I clean more thoroughly with the background noise. Moving from room to room, I quickly finish with the first house and move on to the next. I have four houses on my schedule for today and with any luck I’ll have a few hours to relax before I’m due to be at the diner.

- Unwanted Attention

Working on my last house for the day, it’s the most nerve-wracking one. A married couple with three kids under the age of nine, and the wife has OCD. I know, why would anyone with OCD hire someone else to clean their house? I’ve already caught her recleaning a few areas that I’ve cleaned, but I’ve been working for them for the past two years, so I guess I’m still doing a decent job. The Morrison’s are good people, though, and they have always been really nice to me. Sometimes they ask me to babysit for them, but I always have to pass, because I don’t trust myself around little kids. I used to babysit all the time when I was in high school, but the way my attitude has changed over the years, I don’t want to take it out on any child. I like kids, although I doubt I will ever have any of my own. There’s no way I in hell I would want to bring an innocent child into this fucked up world.

When I’m done with the Morrison house, I say my goodbyes, and then head to the bus stop. I used to drive mom’s old Toyota, but it finally took a shit a few months back, and I have no money to fix it or get a new car. Besides, it’s cheaper taking the bus or walking. I don’t have to worry about gas prices or having the extra money to fix something when it breaks down. I enjoy walking, and when I do have to take the bus, I just keep my head down and mind my own business. Nobody ever bothers me this way and I don’t offend anyone by looking at them the wrong way. Keeping to myself has worked for me so far, no need to change things.

Before my mom got shot, she was always bugging me about getting out and hanging with friends or telling me that I need to start dating. Who has time for that when you’re trying to just get through life in one piece? My mom was my best friend for years. After Knox moved away and decided to never contact me again, I had a few close friends, but then we lost everything, my friends were included. So, it was always just mom and me. That is until the shooting.

I still think back on some of my younger days when I had a normal childhood. Knox and I were glued at the hip. I know he had it a little rougher with his home life, but I tried to make up for it by always being there for him. I always thought that we would be friends forever. I still remember the words he whispered to me all those years ago. I look down at the twine that I still wear around my right ring finger. It is not the same exact one, I outgrew that one, but I made myself a new one, keeping the original in an old jewelry box at home. I am not sure why I continue wearing it, when I haven’t seen him in about eight years. Maybe it is just to remind me that there are good people in this world, even if they can only stay for a little while. I had ten years with my best friend, and I will always cherish that time that we had together. Sometimes those memories are what helps me get through the lonely times.

My thoughts are interrupted when the bus pulls up to the stop. I greet the old driver with a smile as usual and walk to the back of the bus. It is always less crowded in the back, and I can take a quick fifteen-minute nap before I get to where I’m going. I sink down into my seat, and just before I close my eyes, I see a familiar pair of light blue eyes. I blink quick, but the person has already gotten into the parked car across the street. I shake my head and chuckle to myself. It was only my imagination. A lot of people have light blue eyes. Besides, the guy I saw was over six foot and looked mean. I cannot imagine my old friend growing to be that big, or that mean-looking. I relax back into my seat and close my eyes. Memories taking me back to when I once was happy.

Walking into the hospital that my mom is at is depressing. It is not the new big one on the other side of the city, that one is for the people who have money. No, mom’s hospital is rundown and in need of new equipment, but it is cheaper. Most of the staff are nice and they seem to know what they are doing, but they aren’t paid as well as the hoity toity docs at the new hospital. As long as my mom gets the care that she needs, I’m okay with it.

“Hey Mama, it’s a beautiful day outside!” I say cheerfully, as I walk into her room. I don’t expect a response, but I like to think that she can hear me, so I always try to sound happy. I drag the chair over to the side of her bed and take her hand. For the next hour I sit and chat away, telling her make believe stories about how my life is going. I don’t know if she will ever wake up, but I don’t want her hearing how sad my life is and making her feel bad about it. So, I lie.

Just as I am getting ready to leave, her doctor walks into her room. “Ah, Aria! I am glad I caught you. Do you have a minute?” He asks, hopefully.

Dr. Hildreth is a good-looking guy in his mid-thirties, unmarried, and no kids. He is one of the nicest guys I have ever met and has a big heart. He has hinted around about meeting up outside the hospital a few times, but I am not interested in him that way. I don’t have time for guys, and I really don’t want to ruin his soft-hearted nature with my blackened heart.

I answer his question with a slight nod before stepping outside of my mom’s room. “What did you want to talk to me about, Dr, Hildreth?”

He grins, “I’ve told you that you can call me Steffen. No need to be so formal.”

I grit my teeth but continue to be nice, “Oh yes, I forget. What did you want to talk to me about, Steffen?”

Me using his name must really make him happy because he gives me the biggest smile, flashing his straight, white teeth at me. “Well, I thought maybe we could get a cup of coffee and go over your mother’s care.”

He sounds very hopeful that I am going to say yes, so it doesn’t give me any pleasure to know that I’m going to disappoint him once more. “I’m sorry, Steffen, but I’m terribly busy. I need to head to the diner for my next shift.” I try to sound like I am really sorry, but I don’t know if he buys it.

The sad smile he gives me almost breaks my heart, but he seriously needs to give up. He waves his hand back and forth between us, “Of course you’re busy. I should have known better.” Tucking his hands in his pockets, he continues, “I just wanted to discuss your mother’s options again.”

I know exactly where this is going to lead to, so I hold my hand up, “Steffen, I’m not taking her off life support yet. I have already told you this many times. It hasn’t been that long, and you said yourself that there is a possibility that she will wake up.”

“That was over a year ago, Aria.” He looks sad, “The chances have slimmed since then, and to be honest, I don’t think she is going to wake up.” He then pulls her medical chart out of its slot on the wall by her door

and flips through a few pages, “Her last scan shows that there has been no improvement. I’m sorry.”

Instead of standing there and listening to what he is trying to tell me, I turn and start to walk away. I hear him call my name but all I do is raise my hand in farewell, and walk through the double doors, leaving Steffen standing outside my mom’s room shaking his head.

I make it to the diner with ten minutes to spare before my shift starts. Patty and Beth are finishing with the dinner rush but they both wave and smile at me as I make my way back to the employee breakroom. There are only three servers and one night cook. Patrick is both owner and day shift cook, and one of the best bosses that I have ever worked for. I rotate shifts with Patty and Beth throughout the week, so we can all have the opportunity to make generous tips during the rush hours. Tonight is my turn to have the more laid-back shift. Not too many customers come in during the night shift unless it is the weekend.

Bobby, the night shift cook greets me with a fist bump on my way back to the front. I really like working here, but only because of the awesome crew. It helps the time go by faster, no matter how dead it is. Even Patrick is fun to work with. He is only in his late thirties, so he tries so hard to remain cool with the rest of us. It is kind of cute in a way.

Tying my apron around my waist, I wait until Patty and Beth are finished counting the register and refilling the condiments on the tables. Once they are done, they throw their aprons into the dirty bin and clock out. That is my cue to clock myself in and take a few minutes to catch up with the girls before they leave me on my own. This crew is the closest thing to friends that I have, but I still keep them all at a distance. I feel it is best this way; no need to have more heartbreak when they decide to leave my life like everyone else.

- An Unexpected Invite

It’s Friday. Most normal people would wake up and be happy because it is the end of the work week. Not for this girl. I groan as my alarm starts blaring beside me. It takes me three tries to shut the damn thing off. Finally, I yank the plug out of the wall and the noise stops. It was a late night at the diner after some high schoolers came in and decided to have a food fight. They were sneaky little bastards, being quiet, so they would not get caught. By the time I made my way over to them with their ticket, it had looked like a war zone. I don’t think any of them actually ate. I made them pay and then kicked them out. Lucky for me, Bobby offered to help me clean it up once his kitchen was in order. We were finally locking up by two in the morning.

Since it is Friday, the diner stays open until the wee hours of the morning, so the bar patrons can come in for their greasy food cravings. I offered to take Beth’s night shift so she could go out on a date with Erik, a guy she met on one of those dating sites. I think that’s what his name is; maybe it is Eli or Eddie. It’s something that starts with an E, anyway. She has been going on about needing to get laid for the last few weeks, so I’m crossing my fingers and hopefully Eli, or whoever, will help the poor girl out. Either way, I am working a double shift at the diner, and I have a few houses to clean beforehand.

It is barely even light outside, but I know that if I don’t get up now and shower, I won’t have time for my two cups of coffee. Believe me, nobody wants to deal with Aria Kramer without her second cup of Joe! Dragging myself out of bed, I’m like a zombie as I walk over to my dresser for clothes. I live alone, so I can technically walk around naked if I wanted to, but I always keep the thermostat at sixty degrees to help save on the bill. I have tried getting out of the shower and walking to my room without any clothes on. By the time I get to my room I can cut glass with my nipples, and I hate being cold like that.

I reach in to turn the shower on, but nothing comes out. “Great. Just fucking great!” I turn toward the sink and turn those nobs and still nothing. “Seriously? Can I not get a stinking break, already?” I shout up at the ceiling, not really knowing who I am yelling at. I know I paid my bill, which means the POS Manager isn’t doing his job. The profanity running through my head right now would make the devil himself blush. I guess it’s foolish to ask for just one thing to go my way. This right here is another example as to why I don’t depend on anyone else.

“Well, a whore’s bath it is then!” I say aloud as I grab the package of flushable wipes. Throwing my hair up into a messy bun, I pull a few wipes out and start washing my body down. Since I have a little extra time by not showering, I will use that extra time to hunt down the Manager and demand that he fixes the plumbing problem by tonight. Not that he will listen, but I can try anyway.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and go back to throw on some mascara and a little lip gloss. There is absolutely no sense in piling on makeup just to clean and serve food. I will sweat it off anyway. Looking at my reflection, I admit that one of the things I have going for me is that I have flawless skin. My skin coloring has just enough pigment to look like I tan, but it’s all natural. Then there are my eyes. I have never really seen an eye color like my own; they are a blue-violet color. The wavy, raven locks and long, dark lashes that I have, make my eyes stand out more. I’ve tried changing my hair color, but nothing else looks good on me. Although, I did try a purple in my hair when I was eighteen, and I really liked that one. Probably because it matched the violet in my eyes, but that phase didn’t last long.

Rushing out the door, not watching where I’m going, I slam into someone walking by my door. “Oh! I am so sorry!” I glance up, and for once, luck is on my side. The Manager is glaring at me, but I completely ignore the look. “Mr. Sanders! I was just coming to look for you.”

“Oh really?” He salaciously licks his lips while looks me up and down, “What can I do for you this morning, Miss Kramer?”

‘Ew…gross, dude’ I think to myself. I put a fake smile on and address the issue, “Mr. Sanders, I was not able to shower this morning due to not having water.” I know what he is about to say, so I quickly continue, “I am caught up on all my bills, so I know that this is an in-house problem. If you could please have the plumbing checked out, and hopefully working by tonight, I would be so grateful.” I give him just a little bit of a flirtatious smile to sweeten the pot.

A pink tinge creeps into his face and he smiles, “Of course, Miss Kramer. I will look into it right away. I am so sorry for any inconvenience.” He takes a slight step toward me, “If it makes you feel any better, you still look ravishing this morning.”

As his eyes start to roam down my body once again, I turn around and rush down the hall, “You are too kind, Mr. Sanders. Thank you!” I don’t slow down until I’m outside the apartment complex. I take a moment to shudder and be grossed out before I rush off to the bus stop. I make it there with no time to spare. Hurrying up the steps, I make my way to my usual seat. When I glance out the window, I see the same guy as I saw last time; the one I thought could have been Knox. My heart saddens a bit again for the loss of that friendship, but I soon put it out of my mind since there is nothing that I can do about it.

The rest of my morning goes pretty well, until I get to my last cleaning job at the Morrison’s. I use the code that they gave me to get in through the back door as usual. With my ear buds in and my music blaring, I walk over to the utility closet and pull out the cleaning cart with everything that I will need to get the job done. I feel like I should work at a hotel or something. It’s not like I can take the cart up the stairs, so it is kind of pointless if you ask me. None of my other houses have a cart; they have baskets with handles, and different compartments for each item, and it is so much easier to handle, but whatever.

I always start with the upstairs and work my way down because I find it a little easier. Alicia Keys’ song, Girl on Fire, starts playing in my ears, and I bob my head to it while I’m looking the supplies over to make sure nothing needs restocking. Once I’m sure that all is stocked, I make my way through the kitchen. Just as I turn the corner to the living room, the chorus starts and I can’t help but belt out the lyrics, “THIS GIRL IS ON FIRE…”

Never have I ever screamed as loud as I do now, while jumping back and knocking the whole cleaning cart over. The house is supposed to be empty, but apparently the owners must have forgotten that I come in on Fridays. I’m sure they weren’t expecting me to find Mrs. Morrison to be bent over the couch with Mr. Morrison thrusting his hips behind her.

“Oh, my God!” I cover my eyes with my hand, “I am so sorry! I didn’t hear…shit!” I don’t even know what to say. I pull my ear buds out right away. My heart is pounding a mile a minute and I am so freaking embarrassed.

“It’s quite alright,” I hear Mrs. Morrison pants, “We completely lost track of time, didn’t we honey?”

I pull my hand away and glance over at the couple, but they’re still naked, so I quickly look away. “Um, I will just go ahead and start upstairs then.” What else am I supposed to say?

“You got some lungs on you, Aria.” Mr. Morrison chuckles, “You scared the shit out of us!” He is still just standing there, as naked as the day he was born, and obviously not caring.

“I apo-apologize for scaring you.” I stutter as I make my way toward the staircase.

Mrs. Morrison giggles, “No worries, sweetie.” She clears her throat, “Uh, would you like to join us?”

Her offer blows me away. What the hell? Who were these people? How do I even answer that question? Think Aria, think! They are nice people, and I really need to keep this job, but there is no way I’m joining whatever it is they want me to join.

I smile without looking over at them, “Uh, thanks for asking, but I better get my work done. I have a busy day ahead of me.” I grab the items I need for upstairs and start up the steps as normal as I can.

“Oh, that’s okay dear. Maybe another time, then.” Mrs. Morrison responds. I can hear the disappointment in her voice, but I really do not care. Yuck. How do I get this whole incident out of my head? All I see is Mr. Morrison’s ass moving back and forth before he jumps at my voice. I do chuckle a bit remembering the part where he jumps back with his arm flailing out. Not gonna lie though, Mr. Morrison has a very nice backside.