Chapter 2- You're Fired!

" You WHAT!?” My mother screamed at me. My heart beat faster, my palms becoming sweatier by the second. I loved my mother and this really wasn’t something I wanted to have to tell her at a time like this.

“I-I lost my job...” I whispered, casting my eyes down completely ashamed. My mothers glare was icy cold and it really wasn’t helping with my guilt. 

Only I was kinda glad I got fired my boss was an ass who didn’t understand that just because I have boobs and an ass that it didn’t give him the right to stare at them without my permission! I mean as if he would even get permission anyway, like i said he’s an ass.

He was nearly sixty and ‘happily married’. But what I didn’t understand was how he thought it was ok to try blackmail me into sleeping with him, ew as if! He knew that I needed this job so badly and yet he used it against me, the fucking bastard. Blackmail can be a bitch.

I still have contact work at the bar, not the best thing in the world to be honest. To be honest I’m not a fan of bars I find them slightly depressing, clubs that where it at. The only part I like about the bar is that no media comes anywhere near it, no stupid socialites and definitely nobody who gives a rats ass about who I am.

I rarely get called in anyway and I need a regular job with good pay, plus that place is a literal shit hole. I mean I could always become a stripper....

Ha the papers would love that!

Oh but my mother would have a heart attack! She is no longer in a condition to work and so it’s all on me to uphold the families reputation and make a substantial living at the same time. I had to drop out of my final two years at school since we got the news about my father, his death and the massive debt he left behind for us to pay off. So I had to work to tray and find a way to keep us off the streets. Not that it worked that well...at first. 

" But mum you can’t worry, I will find a new one. I promise you.” My voice shook and despite my sarcastic commendation to myself I honestly felt like crying. Seeing my mum so small so venerable made me upset. She was looking up at me with that ' I'm so disappointed in you Mia look.' where her eyes go all hard and glassy and she has a super concerned look on her face.

" The money isn’t going to last Mia.” She snaps, closing her eyes taking a deep breath. ” We are going to end up back on the streets again, how could you be so careless!”

" I’m not going to let us live in the streets, not in your condition. I will find something Mum, you just have to trust me.”

" In my condition? Just because I’m in a wheelchair does not make me a piece of glass Mia!”

she literally just said!- 

" I know your strong mum, way stronger than I give you credit for- ”

“Yes, yes Mia darling I get the point.”

I try to ignore the harsh tone of her voice. Instead I reach out and grab her hands holding them in mine, they were cold... she wouldn't even look at me. 

" Mum, I’m getting another job and i promise that this time it will be better. I am not going to let you down, I can’t not again. I won’t”

I watch as her face softens, She shook her head at me a slight smile creasing her lips. A small moment of empathy, this was the mother that I knew from all those years ago.

" Look at you. I’m disappointed. You have become more and more like your father with the passing days. I never wanted this life for you. Continuous working? Stress? You don’t even enjoy the jobs! I’ve only ever wanted you to do something that you love. ”

" I don’t even know what I want to do.”

My mother gave me a certain look. ” Lies.”

My mother knew me way too well, for as long as I can remember I wanted to be a fashion designer. I just loved to design all those gorgeous dresses and watching peoples face as they found something they love, the shrills of joy filling her ears. I remember when I was younger all of the dresses my mother and father use to buy me. Clothes are a statement and I want nothing more to be able to help people, show who they are to the world.

" Even if i want to put my dreams into action, It takes money to do it. Everything costs money it’s how our economy works mum. The way I will earn money is by working and to do that I need a job, I don’t care if I hate it I just need a good amount of income. ”

Mum waves her hands around, gesturing for her to come down to her height. I sigh, my mother’s too stubborn.

" You need to get your head out of the clouds Mia and focus on your future. How long has it been since you dated anybody?” And she’s back.

But truth be told, it's been too long. Sure there are guys I'm interested in but it never ends up being more than a pointless hookup or a stupid crush that I get over in a week. I haven't had a boy friend since I was in my rebellion phase during my late teens. Back when I did absolutely anything to show the media that I didn't care about my families name of reputation. 

My mother pulled me out of that phase with a slap in the face. Now I'm heavily reaping the concerquences. 

" I just haven’t met the right guy yet.” I reply with a light shrug of my shoulders. I ignore the small nibble in my heart, the hole that had been left there from when I was a child. The part of myself that stupidly held out hope for somebody I met when I was only a child. Even my mother rolls her eyes and wheels herself away towards the bedroom, not believing me for a second. I mean who would?

" Im going to get a job, any job.” I yell after her. She turns around in the doorway, her stare was icy cold but I turn away choosing to ignore it. My mother spent a long time wearing a mask and sometimes I think that she became it.

But anyway, maybe she’s right. I can’t prevent having a romantic relationship just because of my parents. No man could ever be as cruel as my father. That’s a fact. Still i’m scared, i have never been one for drama and that seems to go hand in hand with any guy who is ever interested in me.

I turn at look at myself in the hallway mirror. I have deep bags under my eyes from all my restless nights these past weeks. My long blonde hair is pulled up into a messy bun and my pale green eyes are drained of life. My tan skin looks a deathly pale. I don’t enjoy this, my mother has that right. But none of that matters because i refuse to live on the streets again…. Nobody deserves to live on the street… my heart nearly stops. I let go of breath i didn’t know I was holding, I really need a drink and my best friend. I run my hands through my hair. 

The manager at the bar had texted me earlier about coming in for a couple of hours. That bar is not my favourite place in the world, but at this point any money is good money. I may as well go and invite Emma along to share my misery. “ Mum I’m going out, i’ll be back in a couple of hours.” I call out into the silent house. My voice bounces off the walls. My mother knew very well where I was going and I very well knew she didn’t like it. I guess she’s still living in her bliss bubble where life isn’t the shit hole we all know and love. 

She refuses to confront our reality, she always has.