Chapter 2 - 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.