Pausing, I stare at the door just as I’m about to close it behind me. The door is glass and there are long vertical bars on the windows, indicative of the neighborhood. I remember when Phil moved out and I lost my job at the online retailer, how I could no longer afford to live in Noe Valley, a gorgeous neighborhood next to the Castro. That apartment was everything to me but there was no way I could afford to live there on my own while supporting Ava. The two of us bounced from apartment to apartment, the standards of living slipping each time, until I found myself staring up at the bruised façade of this building, both hoping I could get an apartment and promising myself I’d move us out of there the first chance I got.
It looked like that chance wasn’t going to happen for quite some time.
I sigh, my heart a stone in my chest, and make my way up to the second floor. My mom usually babysits during the day on Thursdays and Fridays and I pay Lisa, my usual sitter, to watch Ava the rest of the time. I’ve been trying to get her into some affordable daycare but that shit is hard to come by in the city. The waiting lists are epic and you really have to be wary of where you put your kid. Before I had Ava, I had no idea how difficult it could be to keep your child secure and safe. I thought daycare and babysitters and education and healthcare would be easy, maybe because I had it easy growing up (or maybe as a child, you just don’t pay attention to those things). But now I know better.
No one is looking out for you or your child but you.
I slip my keys in the door and quietly open it just in case Ava is down for a nap. The apartment is a one-bedroom but only about 550 square feet. I made it as beautiful as possible, though, and in my opinion it looks just as good as my fancier place in Noe Valley did. To be honest, it’s pretty much an Anthropologie showroom. I couldn’t afford to shop there anymore so I held onto my old stuff like it was gold, gluing back coffee cups if the handles fell off or sewing curtains back together if Ava tugged on them too hard (which has happened more than once).
Ava and Lisa are playing with dolls on the shag carpet and the moment I step in, Ava smiles that big, gorgeous bright smile of hers and gets up, running over to me. She wraps her arms around my leg and before I can even shut the door behind me, I crouch down to her level and envelope her in a giant hug. Just being around my daughter elevates my mood and increases my heart rate. It makes things both hard and easy at the same time, something I have a hard time figuring out myself. I think sometimes when you love something too much, you’re that much more aware of how much you have to lose. Holding my little girl in my arms brings me peace but makes me realize that I’m going to have to do everything in my power to make sure she’s okay in the end.
When I pull away, Ava looks at my face with open curiosity. “Mommy, why are you crying?”
I hadn’t even noticed. I quickly wipe my tears on my shoulders and give her a shaky smile. “I’m fine, angel,” I tell her.
Lisa is standing up, wiping her hands on her jeans. I get to my own feet, close the door behind me and put my hand on Ava’s ash-blonde head. Normally my hair is long and dark brown, many shades darker than Ava’s, but Steph recently chopped it off to shoulder-length and put lots of highlights in it. I tell her when she’s done with running her own business she should become a hairdresser instead.
“Everything okay?” Lisa asks, peering at me through her glasses. Tall, reed-thin and sporting an ever-present ponytail, Lisa’s a whip-smart student who seems wise beyond her age, sometimes more mature than me. She’s been looking after Ava for two years now, whenever she can fit it into her schedule. I don’t want to let her go and I have no idea how I’m going to even broach the subject, but the fact is I don’t see how I can possibly afford her while I’m out of work.
Shit, if I ended it a bit better there’s a chance I could have at least worked the last week and gotten more money. I doubt I can even put Rusk on my résumé now after the way I yelled at Ross. No one wants to hire a crazy person.
I give Lisa a small shake of my head and tell Ava to go into our shared bedroom and put her doll to bed. She runs off and I collapse onto the couch with a hard exhale.
“What is it?” Lisa asks, sitting on the arm of the couch.
I chew on my lip for a moment, avoiding her gaze. “I got fired today.”
She breathes in sharply. “What, are you serious? Why?”
I shrug. “They told me a whole bunch of bullshit about closing down some of their stores, but they weren’t the stores I worked at anyway. I think they just wanted cheap labor.”
“Dude, that sucks,” she says. “What are you going to do?”
I eye her apologetically. “Look for another job. But until I find one, I’m afraid I can’t afford to pay you anymore. Money is going to be really tight around here.”
Her face scrunches up for a moment but it quickly becomes sympathetic. I forget that she may have depended on me the same way I depended on her. “I understand. And I’m sure you’ll find something really fast.”
“I hope so,” I tell her. “I kind of have to.”
She gives my shoulder a light pat. “Well, I better get going. I guess you don’t want me to sit tomorrow night?”
I give her a quizzical look and then quickly remember. “Shit,” I swear loudly while hoping Ava doesn’t hear me. Linden’s birthday is tomorrow night and he’s celebrating it on a Tuesday instead of the weekend like any normal human being. I eye Lisa. “No, I guess not. It’s best I stay home.”
She nods and picks up her purse from the counter. For a moment she looks like she’s going to cry.
“I’ll text you as soon as I’ve got something lined up,” I tell her and she gives me a quick smile before she walks out the door and closes it behind her.
The apartment is silent for a few moments and I can’t even hear Ava playing in the bedroom. Then comes her small voice, “Mommy?”
I get up, feeling extremely old all of a sudden, and shuffle over to the bedroom. I lean against the doorway and see Ava putting her doll in her bed. She looks up at me, full-cheeked and proud.
“See, I take care of her. Like you take care of me.”
It takes all that I have not to break down in front of her.
***
I spent last night in a daze, cuddling with Ava on the couch watching her favorite shows and trying not to think about anything except Dora the Explorer’s terrible haircut and fashion sense. After Ava went to bed, I finished half a bottle of wine, flipped through Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar and avoided texts from Steph and Kayla, also letting a call from my mom go to voice mail. They didn’t know anything and I wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. My father, before my mom left him and he jetted across the world to India to do charity work (wish I could have done that after Phil ditched me) used to tease me about my pride. My mom and I both suffer from it, never admitting our faults, never asking for help.
But now in the cold, grey light of day, as I’m able to sleep in for a bit and explain to Ava that her mother will be home with her for the next while, I know I have to face the music. I need to get my life on track as best I can. If I can do it without anyone’s help or anyone feeling sorry for me, then all the better.
I spend the morning going through Craigslist and a bunch of other job sites before the anxiety becomes too much and I take Ava to a playground in Little Saigon. After, we get Pho and I keep checking my phone, hoping to hear back about something already. It’s maddening applying for jobs. Each time I read a job description that I fall in love with, I become obsessed with it. All my hopes go riding on it as if the job will make my life a million times better, as if I even have a chance. Not being able to put Rusk on my résumé really put my career a step back, too.
After the fifth text gets ignored, Steph finally calls me just as I’m putting Ava down for a nap. I close the door to the room, take in a deep breath and answer the phone.