Chapter 3 - Elizabeth

I pinch the bridge of my nose, gripping my mobile so tight in my other hand I think it might break. I sink down on a creaky kitchen chair, looking at the bills laid out on the table. I’m behind on everything, like usual, and I don’t have enough to cover the bare minimum this time.

Trying to get Heather the best outcome possible, I skipped the public defender and hired a lawyer, who was able to cut her sentence in half. But the lawyer fees weren’t cheap, and I’ve been without TV or internet all month, making me go over on my data plan, but hey—that bill’s not due until next month. The next to go will be my electricity and water, though not by choice.

And now I’m dealing with insurance, who randomly decided to stop covering several of Father’s medications that he’s been taking for the last three years. I’ve been on the mobile for over an hour, mostly on hold of course. I rest my head in my hands, zoning out as I continue to listen to crappy elevator music through the speakers on my mobile.

Finally, I get through to a new person, whose accent is so thick I can hardly understand a word they’re saying. I argue some more, but in the end, there is nothing I can do. The insurance company no longer deems the blood pressure medication necessary and will no longer cover it.

I hang up and let my mobile clatter to the table. The fall is cushioned by the million bills covering the surface. Seething, I close my eyes and clench my jaw. I want to beat someone up, preferably Steve at the insurance company who has as much empathy as a pile of dirt.

“I am so fucking sick of this,” I mutter. I’m sick of taking one step forward and two back. I’m tired of never having enough. I’m tired of everyone else’s shit always falling on my shoulders.

I want out.

Out of the ghetto. Out of poverty. Of working my ass off for measly tips and dealing with rude customers who see me as that trashy girl from the south side. I want to make a life for myself. I want to do better.

Picking pockets will only get me so far. I need to do something big, something like I used to do before, and get enough money to finally start the life I know I deserve. Picking my mobile back up, I log onto a caregiver site. I have a profile on here, though it’s been a while since I used it.

My biggest job while working there was constantly turning down advances from the children’s father. He was a decent-looking guy, ten years older than me and working the salt-and-pepper hair hard. He was funny, cultured, and totally infatuated with me. He started sending me gifts, which is how I acquired a few designer items.

Afraid I’d say his wife of what almost happened, he started giving me cash in exchange for my silence. I had photographic evidence of him shoving his tongue down my throat, after all. I quit working for his bratty-ass children and was able to live off hush-money for a good six months. Then he got caught cheating on his wife with someone else and she left him, so my silence wasn’t worth paying for anymore.

Still, her name looks good as a reference. I’ll leave it. I spend a few more minutes tweaking my resume, not exactly lying but making myself sound way better than I really am. I submit it to the site for review and answer a few questions to see if I can still pass a background check. Luckily for me, background checks don’t go into my family history.

I follow behind as me and father head to the cafeteria, pulling out my mobile to see who just emailed me. It’s a response to the nanny position I applied for a few days ago, which specific one is beyond me. I applied for any and all that I could.

I quickly skim the email, looking to see who sent it. The email was sent from a work account, and the name Maggie Mount is at the bottom as an e-signature. Once I get to the table next to Father, I enter her name in a G****e search.

“Holy shit,” I say out loud, earning a nasty look from the uptight nurse passing by. Maggie’s made quite the name for herself, and she’s younger than me. I find her on I*******m and creep through her photos. She has a baby and it looks like she’s either married or engaged to a doctor. I already hate her.

I don’t care what the job description is. This is exactly the type of gig I need.

Corbin comes over with two plates of nasty-looking salmon that reeks like it’s been left out on the counter all afternoon. Yep, I’m only eating the sweet potatoes. Swallowing the little bit of morality I have left, I turn to Father and look into his eyes.

“I’m going to get you out of this shithole, I promise.”

I feel like I’m drowning. Like I’m madly treading water just to stay afloat. I’m gasping for breath, but every time my lungs fill with air it feels wrong. Like I shouldn’t be breathing.

Like I should drown.

But like a cockroach, I keep coming back. Pulling on the cross necklace that’s hanging from my neck, I push my shoulders back and step into the coffee shop.

Her brunette hair is pulled into a braid that’s perfectly messy, and she’s not wearing much makeup. She’s pretty and has a kind face. You can say she’s a nice fucking person just by looking at her, and I can’t let myself fall into a trap.

I need money. Specifically hers.

My mobile rings right as Maggie looks up, and our eyes meet for fleeting mothering before I glance down at my cell in my hand. It’s the nursing home, and I hesitate before answering. They called this morning to say my Father was out of the medication insurance stopped covering and asked if I would be able to provide it until something was worked out.

I’m trying.

I silence the call and look back at Maggie, plastering a fake smile on my face.

“Hi,” she says, standing up to shake my hand. “I’m Maggie.”

“Elizabeth. Nice to meet you.”

“Do you want anything to drink? This new caramel frap is to die for.” “Uh, sure. Thanks.”

Leaving her computer on the table with me, Maggie gets up and gets in line, returning a few minutes later after putting in an order for me.

“So,” she begins, fidgeting a bit as she talks. “I’ve never interviewed anyone like this before. Sorry in advance if I’m a little awkward. And don’t feel like you need to put up a front or anything. I’m not looking for Mary Poppins. Just someone who can help with basic household chores and make sure a four-year-old makes it to see another day.”

Dammit, I kind of like her. “I think I can do that.” My mobile buzzes and I glance down, seeing a text from Corbin. Shit.

Maggie goes on to describe the job, and I hear her say the house is in a small town in Indiana, about an hour and a half away. I smile and nod as she explains the rest, not really paying attention because I’m trying to surreptitiously read Corbin’s text. And when I see the words your father fell again nothing Maggie says stays with me.

The faster I can get to Maggie’s husband, the better. I need to find a way to blackmail him into giving me money so I can move my father to a place that’s better equipped to handle someone with memory issues.

We go overpay, where I’ll stay, and how my time off will work. She’s pretty fucking generous and even offers to arrange a car to come to get me since I don’t own one myself. I can start tomorrow, and I have no doubt things will work out just fine. Being able to accommodate anyone is just one of my superpowers. Though really, I don’t see why it’s all that hard. Find out what people want, and embody it. Compliment them. Make them feel important.

And then you’ve weaseled your way into their lives enough to reach in and take whatever you want. Hey…I never claimed to be a saint. But to be honest, I don't know if I would have the courage to do something like that but its what I need to do.

But, WILL I?