Chapter 9 - Tomorrow Will Be Better

     Patrick opened the diner back up on Tuesday since both he and Patty were over the sickness. Beth is still under the weather, but because the diner was closed for so long, both Patty and I agreed to work double shifts to help make up the time that we both lost. Things were starting to go back to normal, almost. I still need to find a third job with decent pay. I’m tired of depending on tips. I really wished the auction house were a real auction house and not just a glorified brothel. I’m not judging anyone by any means, I was just really counting on the extra money that Scarlett had mentioned.

      When I check my phone on my break, there are multiple text messages from Frank, begging me to come back to the bar, and one new voicemail from a number that I do not recognize. I tap in my four-digit code and listen. I recognize Dr. Hildreth’s voice. Rolling my eyes, I am about to delete the message thinking he was going to try convincing me to let mom go, but I am wrong. He wants me to call him back to talk about transportation for my mother. Apparently, due to low funds, the hospital is being forced to close down. He goes on to say more, but I do not hear any of it because I hit the end call button.

      The rest of my shift goes by in a blur. My mind replaying the doctor’s words over and over. What am I going to do with my mother? The only thing left to do is put her in a nursing home that the government will pay for, but I know that she would never want that. I remember that we used to joke about when she got old. I teased her about not wanting to change her Depends so I’d ship her to a home, and she made me promise to never put her in a home. How can I go back on that promise?

      Bobby wraps up some leftovers for me and sends me home, saying he can close up by himself. He knows all about my struggles lately, and even though I don’t want people to pity me, it is nice to let people help out sometimes. I don’t know what I have done for life to make things so hard for me. I’ve always been a good daughter, student, friend, and worker. I treat people kindly for the most part, and I try to never complain. I do my best to get through the tough times, but there is always something waiting to knock me back down as soon as I make any progress.

      I am not sure how I made it home safely, considering I didn’t pay any attention to my surroundings on my way back from the diner. Unlocking my apartment door, I flip the light switch, but nothing happens. Moving deeper into my apartment, I try another light switch, and nothing.

      “Well, fuck!” Turns out this is my undoing. I slide down the wall and just start laughing. Not sure why I’m laughing, but I am. All too soon though, the laughter turns into crying.

      After about thirty minutes of bawling like a baby, I drag myself back to my feet and go in search of candles. Not finding any, I look for a flashlight that actually has batteries in it. I do not want to waste the battery on my phone by using the flashlight app, so I continue to stumble through my apartment until I find a tiny LED flashlight. It’s about as long as my pointer finger but it will do the trick. The little thing gives off enough light for me to eat the food that Bobby sent home with me. It isn’t much, just two small chicken strips and a slice of day-old cherry pie, but I’m still grateful. Anything that I may have had in the fridge, which isn’t much, is probably no good now that the electricity is off. God only knows how long it’s been off.

      Finally, after washing my face and brushing my teeth in a dark bathroom, I climb into my bed and snuggle under my comforter. “Tomorrow will be better, Aria.” I whisper into the dark, “If he brings you to it, he will bring you through it.” I chant, remembering the few sayings that my mom used to chant when times got tough after dad died, “He will never give you more than you can handle.” I repeat these words until I finally fall asleep, hoping that when the sun rises in the morning, things will be a little bit brighter.

      What spark I once had in my eyes left years ago. I had to grow up fast, had to become a responsible adult in order to get the bills paid. I never once complained about it because I still had my mom encouraging me. Now, I have no one. I am alone, and I am growing tired. Tired of always working. Tired of always worrying. Tired of being mad at the life that I am forced to live. Just tired. If I’m not working, then I’m sleeping. I have no energy for anything else. I think I gave up caring the night I lost electricity. It's been a week since that night I broke down on my floor. Having to go into my rent money to pay for it, I got my electric back the next day, along with my job at the bar. I had no other choice. I am now a zombie moving around from job to job, and then going home to sleep, just to do it all again the next day.

      It has been over a week since I have been able to stop in and see mom, but I’m determined to do it today. I have a little time between working the dayshift at the diner and the night shift at the bar. It isn’t much, but it’s something. Stepping off the elevator, I practically collide with Dr. Hildreth.

      “I am so sorry, Steffen!” 

      “Oh, Aria. It’s quite alright. I should have been watching where I was going.”

      “Oh no, I was the one preoccupied with things on my mind, and I’m kind of in a hurry. I don’t have much time between jobs, but I wanted to see her.”

      He gives me a sympathetic smile, “I understand.” He clears his throat, “Did you ever get my voicemail that I left about the hospital closing?”

      Shit! I forgot to call him back. I slap my forehead, “I completely forgot, but yes. Um, how much time do I have to find another facility?”

      “Well, it won’t be closing for another two months, but Aria, I strongly suggest you consider our past conversations…”

      Holding up my hand to stop him from saying what I know he is going to say, “I have told you about my feelings on the matter, Steffen. Please respect my decision.”

      I can see that he is getting a little annoyed with my stubbornness, but I don’t really care. We are talking about my mother’s life! I really think that she will wake up at some point. I can feel it in my gut. I can tell that the doctor wants to say more, so I completely ignore him and head to my mom’s room. Being with my mother calms me. I can vent and I can be myself. I can tell her about my day or night, and in the end, I always feel at peace. When I begin my long rant, I don’t get very far into it when I notice another vase of flowers. It bothers me that I don’t know who is sending them to her, but at the same time, a smile appears on my face. Knowing that I am not the only one who is acknowledging that my mother is still here with us.

      After my shift at the bar, I head home feeling a little better. It was a great tip night, and this time nobody stole my jar. There is a note taped to my door when I get home. I dread reading it because I already know what it’s going to say. Sure enough, as I open it, dread fills my veins. It’s a letter of eviction. I was already a month behind on rent, and when I had to dip into rent money to pay for my electric to get turned back on, I knew I would be late this month. Apparently, they’re not willing to work with me. The letter says that they are giving me two weeks to come up with two months of rent, to catch me up, or else I need to move ASAP.

      “Well, when it rains, it pours.” I sigh and let myself into my apartment.

      I throw my keys and the letter on the counter and go in search of a bottle of Tito’s that I know I have around here somewhere. After searching all my cupboards, I finally find the half bottle under the kitchen sink, way in the back. I don’t bother with a glass, as I bring the bottle up to my lips and chug, as I walk to the window seat in my living room. 

      Opening up the window, I let the cool night breeze hit my face as I gaze up at the starless night sky. You can never see the stars in the city, it’s a pity. I take another long drink from the bottle and look down at the street. Cars and trucks line both sides of the streets with only a few open spots here and there. My neighborhood is a poor one, so when my eyes fall on a sleek black BMW parked across the street, I frown. The expensive car is so out of place parked on this street, and I feel as though I have seen it before.

      I don’t think too much on it. Taking another swig, I walk away from the window. I’m not much of a drinker; that together with me not eating much today, I’m starting to feel as though I shouldn’t have drunk so much.

I look at the bottle and giggle, “Oh shit!” There are maybe two swigs left. This is not going to be good come morning. I start giggling once more, finishing off the bottle.