Baby

There’s nothing about wanting to live freely. There’s nothing wrong with shutting the world, to forget everything, and just live.

That’s what my life was, barely worries at all. I was lucky that I got two hard-working parents that gave me everything I needed or wanted. I was lucky I got a good childhood. I never worried about the little things. Life was simpler back then. No work, no school money, not worrying about my future. I didn’t know my priorities or even know which college I had to apply to. No one told me I had to stop being a child one day and suddenly become an adult. And yet here I am running towards another part-time job, to keep my tuition, my rent, and food money.

I’m busting my ass at nineteen to keep my life afloat. I’m the child of both retired parents that can’t afford to play college with their only daughter, so now I have to fend for myself. I have to work and study at the same time hoping I can someday pay back my student loan, with a minimum wage job.

I already work as an usher at the corner theater. I bust tables on weekends. I babysitter the neighbor’s kid, I even do errands. I do it all in exchange of a little money. I welcome any money. I also buy second-hand clothes and books. I go for the specials and sales at the supermarket and big discount stores. I walk everywhere. My savings account is low, my card is for emergencies only and my computer is almost at its last.

“Can you cover for me, Dolly?” I do a little dance in my head. I’m on a break and I take any job out there. Being an usher is easy, if you can oversee the grossness of people. You get to even watch free movies. And whenever Tad gets a new girlfriend, I get tons of his work hours into my pocket.

“Sure.” I can’t believe I will soon have enough for my new computer.

That’s my goal this year, a new shiny brand new laptop. I’m afraid that by next semester I’ll no longer have the one I own. Having to back-up my files every single time because there’s no clue when it will restart. I learn to do that after I finished an essay; I had spent half a day glued to my computer. I lost everything in one blink of an eye, and I had no other option but to stop the tears and start from the very beginning.

I hang up the phone and clean the small room I’m the proud owner of. Is small but I don’t need more, I mean I’m in college. I eat poorly and I study and work whenever I can squeeze time. My room was just for basics; books on a small bookshelf in a corner that also works as my nightstand. I used my bed as my workspace with a long piece of polished wood. I have dried food and cans in a small box under my bed and my closet is just plastic boxes where I keep everything neatly folded. I just don’t decorate anymore. There’s no point to do so if I don’t spend enough time at home. I need little really, just a reliable internet connection and a bed. There’s the library, I can always go there to study.

This is just some low point in my life that I will get through and maybe someday I’ll have the room of my dreams. The bed of my dreams.

The apartment of my dreams. I have everything neatly mapped out for when the time is right, when I get enough money for it.

As the day grows darker and I get ready for work. I have a double shift at the theater tonight, mines and Tod’s so wear my comfortable shoes and my baggy pants and strut down the street with time to spare. Is a cool afternoon so I hold my small jacket in my hands and walk slowly with my headphones in.

“Ted is out on a date again?”

“Yes.” Lucky me.

I’m cutting the tickets smiling politely as they come through, is a slow night. I push my braid back and stared ahead. Soon I’ll have to go on my bathroom check and then back to selling tickets. My supervisor is in a cheery mood today, and I hope it stays that way for the entire night. He comes and goes, checking that everything is running smoothly, but his eyes linger over my face today for the longest time, and I think that he’s out prowling again.

He always does that, he’s always looking at me.

“Dolly, could you come here, please?” I groan low. I hope is not to ask me out again, three times is enough already.

I walk slowly, dragging my feet. Following into the small office he has if it weren’t for the desk there, someone could mistake this for a utility closet. It’s cramped, and it smells stale, like they left something wet out too long but that’s just how he usually smells. Will, short for William, he’s not only married but father of six children from three different women I know, gross. He’s one of those guys that you just know he touches himself when no one is watching. His receding hairline and his beer gut make him a lot harder in the eyes.

He goes around his clustered desk, which I think he keeps like that for people to think he actually does work, and plops down. I almost gag when his double chin wobbles. Beady eyes stare at me. How I wish I could poke him with my pen.

“I wanted to call you in here to thank you for your hard work these last couple of days,” he starts. “As you know, we are currently short-staffed and you always are the first one to come forward whenever we need someone to do extra.” Yes, I do it for the money you pay me, I want to say, but I clamp my mouth shut and nod. “As a sign of how grateful I am, I want to invite you to dinner.” And there it is, another one. I just want to kick him hard on the balls.

“I’m just doing my job.”

“And that’s exactly why I want to show you my gratitude.”

“Ah, well, I’m happy you are happy with my job, but I have to say no.”

He stares at me, hard. His neck thickens and the bald spot on top of his head is red. He’s angry I’ve turned him down now a fourth time.

“I understand.” He said the before, yet here we are again. The silence is awkward, but I don’t move. I’m waiting until he decided that my presence was no longer required.

He shuffles papers and pretends that it didn’t affect him at all, that a nineteen-year-old has once again rejected his fat ass. “You better go back.” His eyes are shooting daggers at me, and I wince. I hope he doesn’t go crazy like the last time and makes me pick up popcorns with my hands again. Cleaning wasn’t in my job description. We have two extra people for that but I will rather be on his good side. The rumors about him aren’t pretty, and is not like I have the luxury of losing this job.

I walk slowly and sit behind the glass. There’s a small line and Lina’s shift is over, so I’m handling ticket sales for now. She smiles and attends the last three customers before she slips off the chair and says goodnight. It’s easy, but I’m tired by the time the theater is closed. Bruce, one of the old guys, walks me home and I can finally lift my feet up. I’m off tomorrow and that means I can sleep until very late and then maybe look for a part-time job that pays extra so I can quit this one. I make a mental note as I wash the smell of butter and popcorn in my hair as I take the stairs two at a time. Lately, I’ve been using Craigslist. Sometimes they have odd jobs there, and the pay is good. Or so I have heard people say that.

I’m in bed scanning on the small screen of my mobile phone. So far nothing sounds real, nothing pays enough, and the good jobs are in another city, where I’m not. I’m eating cereal without milk and reading the ads. Some even seek women to pay them for sex. The world has changed.

My neck is stiff and my feet are still sore from all the standing I did this past week. A day off wouldn’t hurt me and is not like I have any plans and when I get a phone call, I clear my throat before picking up.

“Let’s go out.” I grin at the voice on the other side.

“The only way I’m stepping out of this room is if you pay.” I throw it like that and expect nothing. She’s as broke as me.

“Damn, I was hoping you’re were the one paying. All those double shifts you had. You’re packing money friend.”

“Not for you, Lin.” She laughs.

“Right college girl.” There’s rustling in the background. “We need a sugar daddy or something. This life sucks.”

A what? I ask and she sighs. She likes to mock me about how little I know, how hidden my parents kept everything from me.

“Well,” she starts. “Is basically or most of the time is an older man that pays for your time.”

“What?!”

“Is a thing, my friend. I know a girl who had one, and she had the year of her life.”

A man that pays for my time, doesn’t that make me some time of a hooker? Is really interesting but I guess, no, I think that’s not for me. Is only one more year before I get my degree and maybe five more to pay off my loan. I could stay here in this same apartment and get two jobs. By the time I turn thirty, I’ll be free of all my debts and start saving for my retirement. I had it all planned out, so no old dudes for me thank you.

It would be nice, though, to have someone to just pay me a lot of money for just laying down on my back. But then again, I was a virgin; I had no sexual experience, and also there was the fact that the opposite sex hardly pay me any attention. Most of the experience I had I got from going out on dates in high school with jocks and all that got me was getting groped under my shirt and my face being sucked. I never like how immature they were and how right away they jumped into touching me under me my clothes part, so I discarded the idea as soon it came into my head.

I braided my hair and made up the bed. We decided not to hang out but just to talk on the phone until we got sick of our voices. The second serving of cereal, and I was almost full. I had no desire to cook. I didn’t do it often because that meant that I had to clean after myself and the space provided in that small kitchen. Nope, I rather buy precooked meals keep them inside the small fridge I found online, and cooked them in the beat-up old microwave. Whose confidentially beeping sound didn’t work to my benefit.

My roommates still didn’t know I had half a kitchen inside my room. I debated for a while. I kept lifting my phone and placing it back on my bed. I signed into my Reddit account and typed in search Sugardaddy. After a second, the page loaded and my screen filled up with subreddits about it. I tapped the first one with more subscribers and giggled. The number of ads, the number of women looking to be in this type of relationship, baffled me. I rolled down onto my stomach and gasped at each one of them. From London, Alberta, Seoul, California, New York, so many options, but thinking of who was who behind that little ad gave me the creeps. What if they were exactly like disgusting Bill? Ew, I didn’t even want to think about that.

This wasn’t for me.

***

I hate how short Sundays are. Is the only thing I think when I board the bus early morning the next day. I’m babysitting some kid today, a fourteen-year-old girl whose parents need a reliable person to guard their treasure for one afternoon. I swear that’s what it said. Some people just have the strangest combination of words.

I yawned into my hand before taking out my paperback novel. Historical romance was my thing. I like to lose myself in the old words, petticoats, and lords that fell head over heels with the maid or the wallflower. I eyed the streets. Almost two stops from my destiny, but traffic had made my travel time longer. I texted the mom not to worry, that I was on my way and she called me right away.

The house was enormous, the couple magazine-like and the kid, well, a brat. She was pretty, with her blond curls and make-up, but full of shit. She talked to me like I was an equal and not five years older. A little precocious thing talking about boys like she knew anything. I bet she didn’t even know how to wipe her own ass. It bothered me I was just like her once. Naively thinking that the world was just what my eyes saw that behind the shiny things there was the sad truth, the one I’m living now. Maybe she won’t have to go through the things I have, but I hope her parents soon sat her down and had the real talk, the one mine should have given me.

The house is clean, and we just sit down and watch movies. At least she does while I sit down on a comfortable chair not that very far from where she sits, clicking away on the big smartphone, snickering and giggling to herself.

“Can I have popcorn?” I lift my head from my book. Her face is pink and for a moment she looks like the child she really is; her lip gloss is long gone and her hair tied up on top of her head in a high ponytail.

“Yes, go ahead.” I watch her run to the kitchen and listen to the sounds coming. The movie is on pause and I relax. I could get used to this sort of job. Just one afternoon and is pretty decent cash. The voice has gone around that I’m a good babysitter. I help with homework and even take them out to the park when the parent suggests allowed a few hours out.

Just as they said, both parents came in around nine. We had ordered takeout from her favorite sushi place. I just had water and tasted one roll. Raw food isn’t my thing, but at least I tried it. They handed me a check and just as I was about to head out; the mother called me into the family study.

“Jessa said you were good to her.” Just because I listened and treated her like a person. We hardly did anything together. I let her do her own thing and answered the questions, and checked on her when she turned too quiet.

“She’s a good kid.” That brought a warm smile.

“You’re in college, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. You live by yourself?”

“Yes, about half an hour away by bus.”

“What about your parents?” I feel like this is an interview. I try to calm down as she speaks. “You’re what, twenty?”

“Nineteen actually.” She nods.

“I think I might have something that could interest you. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

Ok, that was weird. Something for me? How the hell did she know I was looking for something? I was sure I didn’t look like a beggar since I paid attention to how I dressed. Even today I was wearing a nice white shirt, a very vintage but beautiful pink jacket, jeans, and my white sneakers. I mean, what was I going to wear to babysit a fourteen-year-old? No stilettos!

At least we settled Monday, tomorrow morning. I was going to deposit this money and move it to my savings account.

Still, I expected her call, even three days a week, two weeks after I was still waiting to see what the hell she meant by it. That was why my heart went to overdrive when my phone lit up with her name.

“Hello?”

“Any experience in house sitting?”

“Excuse me?”

“I need someone to house sit my customer’s home. I need someone responsible to live in for a short time while he flies back and forth out of the country.” I had heard about such jobs, but they are a kind of odd to get and they aren’t that reliable. “You’re there Dolores?”

“Yes, mam.”

“Good.”

“But how would that work?”

“I need you to come to my office. Let’s say around eleven tomorrow.”

I wrote the address and placed an alarm. I mapped the shortest route, and I ironed the best work shirt I had. The place was a law firm, and there was no way I was going to let people see me as a scrawny kid. Which I looked like most of the time. I never had that spurt-like growth in me. I seem smaller and younger. I’m terribly white and skinny, with blue eyes and long black hair. The thing I like most is my skin. I’m blessed that my mother could pass me her amazing genes. I hardly ever had a pimple or any type of blemish on my skin. What I never got was a figure. All I can brag about is my skin. No curves, no nothing.

I’m standing outside the tall building on my medium-height heels, black pants, and a white shirt with thin vertical stripes. My hair is loose on my back and my make-up is minimal, just my eyes have a little color in them, nude lips, and simple jewelry. I’m just chatting with Margot Pope, a friendly chat, and that’s it. A chat about me guarding a house while the owner is not home. At least that was what it said online about the whole deal.

I say my name once I’m facing the man in sitting behind the counter in the lobby and I’m told to wait, so I sit down on a brown chair and wait. I have the urge to take out my book. I’m close to the end but I instead take the newspaper on the table and go through it only reading the titles. I’m nineteen. I don’t expect her to ask me anything about politics or economics. I’m here to listen to what she has to say and then head home until is time to get ready for another night with popcorn and disgusting Will breathing down my neck.

“Miss Kirby.” I’m called, so I hurry and take my pass. I am directed to a set of doors that turn out to be elevators and I’m told to press twelve, someone is expecting me.

Mrs. Pope’s office has the most amazing view, to the next-door building. From afar, people move inside it like the ants on that see-through colony I made in the third grade. She welcomes me with a smile and I admire her neat up-do. Her space is enormous, and every space seems to be spotless. Nothing is out of place, just me in my wannabe adult outfit. I sit down and wait until she puts down her phone and looks at me.

“How have you been? Was it easy to find?”

“Y-yes.” I stammer.

“Oh, don’t be nervous, is just more convenient here than on the phone. Plus, I get to see you in work clothes.” Her hands move as she talks, “you give out the air of a responsible person and after much thought, I present the idea to Mr. Westbrook, and as long as you follow the rules we can sign right now.”

“What?”

“The house-sitting job?”

“Oh, right?” Sign right away? What rules? Shouldn’t I be asking what exactly where they looking for? I mean, it was all too fast.

“If you need to think about it, we have two days for that, but here is what he expects of you.” She handed me a thin manila envelope. Not heavy, but kind of stacked together. “His secretary has your resume and so far, they are happy with the background check. I advise you to take it. He’s hardly home and is an undemanding job. The house fully staffed and the only thing you need to do is keep everything in another. There’s a room for you on the lower floor and full access to the kitchen, gym, pool, and one car. The only thing is no one is to go in but you. When he is in town, you must sleep somewhere else.”

“What about bills and that?”

“You don’t have to worry about it. You’d be just like another staff.”

Really? Was this for real? This is a dream job. All I had to do was keep the house clean, don’t bring anyone inside, and leave when the owner came back. I was in a daze, cloud nine. I was walking back to my place with the contract and rules under my arm and a stunning look on my face.

Saying yes implied so much stuff. The amount they were going to pay me meant I didn’t have to stay in more late nights at the stinky theater, no side jobs, no more tables, or cleaning bathrooms. No more disgusting Will. I could save, study hard and even keep my rented room. Most of all, I could save! I read everything carefully. Checking and double-checking the small print and looking up legal terms, I did not know. The contract was for two months as a trial, and then once those two were up and if everything pleased Mr. Westbrook, the contract could be extended.