Page 18 of Scarlet Chains
She looks like she wants to argue, but she knows me too well. Once I’ve made up my mind about something, there’s no talking me out of it.
“What kind of job?”
“I don’t know yet. Something easy. Something that won’t require heavy lifting or long hours on my feet.” I touch my stomach lightly. “Dr. Martinez said I need to be careful about physical stress.”
“I could always—” she begins, and I know where this is going; she’s going to offer to sell something, to make a plan.
“I’m not taking charity from anyone,” I cut her off. “Not even you.”
Mom sighs and picks up her coffee again. “You’re just like your father. Stubborn as a mule.”
The comparison stings, cutting deeper than she probably intended. I miss him so much sometimes it feels like drowning. Miss his terrible jokes and the way he’d ruffle my hair when Iwas stressed. Miss having someone who understood my need for independence without making me feel guilty about it.
I miss having a father who wasn’t murdered by the man I fell in love with.
I shake off the spiral before it can drag me under. “I’m going to look online today. See what’s available.”
“Just… be careful, okay? Don’t take the first thing you find.”
“Don’t worry.” I kiss the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, baby.”
After she leaves for her morning shift at the office building downtown, I settle cross-legged on the living room floor with my laptop balanced on the coffee table. The apartment feels too quiet without her bustling around, making it impossible to ignore the weight of everything I need to figure out.
Almost three hours into scrolling through job listings, and I want to cry. Retail positions that require standing for eight hours. Waitressing jobs that involve carrying heavy trays. Office work that pays barely above minimum wage.
I’m about to close the laptop in frustration when something catches my eye.
Immediate Start: Temporary live-in babysitter needed for one-year-old child. Excellent compensation. Flexible schedule. Must be comfortable with travel.
The salary listed makes me blink twice. It’s more than I made in three months at my last real job.
My finger hovers over the phone number. It’s probably too good to be true. Rich families usually want someone with extensive experience, references, a background check. I have none of those things.
But desperation makes people brave, and I’m definitely desperate.
What is there to lose?
Just do it, Ilona.
I dial before I can start second-guessing myself.
“Hello?” The voice is crisp, professional, with just a hint of an accent I can’t place.
“Hi, My name is Ilona and I’m calling about the babysitting position.”
“Oh, wonderful. I just put that add up; I never expected to hear from anyone so quickly.”
“Um… well… I… I… guess I got lucky,” I fumble for words.
She chuckles. “Maybe you did.” There’s warmth in her voice now, which surprises me. “Tell me a little about yourself.”
My mouth goes dry. Aside from that disastrous mess with Tibor, I haven’t done a job interview in over a year, and I’m out of practice. “Well, I’m… I’m twenty-six. I don’t have formal childcare experience, but I’ve always been good with kids. I’m responsible, reliable, and I really need a job.”
Smooth, Ilona.
Real professional.
