A Breath of Fresh Air
"Did this really happen?" I whispered, more to myself than to her.
"Check your purse again," Madison said with a sleepy smile.
I pulled out the envelope, unfolding the check inside. The numbers hadn't changed - $10,000. We'd spent a thousand on clothes, household necessities, and a few special items we'd never normally allow ourselves. The remaining nine thousand sat safely in my purse, already earmarked for bills and rent.
"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up," I said, running my thumb over the check's raised lettering. "Things like this don't happen to people like us."
Madison sat up straighter. "Maybe the universe decided we deserved something good for once."
The bus hit a pothole, making our bags shuffle against our feet. I counted them again - six from Elysian Threads, three from the home goods store, two from the art supply shop where I'd insisted Madison pick out proper materials. Each purchase had felt surreal, like playing pretend with someone else's money.
"Remember how the saleswoman's jaw dropped when we bought that proper easel for your room?" I nudged Madison's shoulder.
"And those real sable brushes!" Madison's eyes lit up. "I can't wait to try them out."
"First thing tomorrow," I promised. "After we figure out where to put everything in our shoebox apartment."
Madison giggled. "We might need to hang stuff from the ceiling."
I pulled her close, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with the new-clothes smell surrounding us. The weight of the check in my purse felt like a shield against the world, like finally being able to take a full breath after years of holding it in.
"Nine thousand dollars," I murmured. "That's six months of rent. Plus utilities. Plus groceries."
"Plus your art supplies too, Mom. Don't forget about those."
I kissed the top of her head, my throat tight with emotion. For once, we didn't have to choose between necessities and dreams. For once, we could have both.
The bus wheezed to a stop at our corner. I gathered our bags, careful not to crush any of our precious new purchases.
"Here, take these two." I handed Madison the lighter bags as we stepped onto the sidewalk. The evening air had cooled, and the neon sign of the bar below our apartment cast a familiar red glow across the pavement.
We climbed the narrow stairs to our door, the shopping bags rustling against the walls in the tight space. I fumbled with my keys, finally pushing open the door to our small apartment.
"Just drop everything in that corner for now," I said, pointing to the space beside the pull-out couch. "We'll sort it all out tomorrow."
Madison carefully arranged the bags while I walked to our tiny kitchen, opening the fridge out of habit. The sparse contents stared back at me - half a carton of milk, some wilting lettuce, and leftover pasta from three days ago.
A thought struck me. For the first time in forever, we had money to spare. Real money.
"Hey Madi, how about we order in tonight?"
She spun around, her eyes wide. "Really? Like, actual takeout?"
"I was thinking sushi." I pulled out my phone, already searching for the place downtown that Sarah always raved about.
"Sushi?" Madison bounced on her toes. "I've never had real sushi before!"
"Well, tonight's special." I scrolled through the menu, adding items that looked good. "Want to pick something?"
Madison peered over my shoulder at the screen, pointing at different rolls and asking questions about each one. We settled on a feast - a rainbow roll, california roll, some nigiri, and tempura vegetables.
Thirty minutes later, our doorbell rang. I grabbed my wallet and opened the door to find a delivery driver holding a large bag that smelled amazing.
"Thank you," I said, handing over the payment and taking our dinner.
Madison had already cleared the coffee table and set out plates. I unpacked the containers, arranging them in a circle. The colors were beautiful - pink salmon, white rice, green avocado, all artfully arranged.
"It looks like art," Madison whispered, picking up her chopsticks with reverence.
I popped a piece of salmon nigiri into my mouth, closing my eyes at the buttery taste. "Mmm. This is definitely better than my cooking."
Madison giggled through a mouthful of california roll. "Everything's better than your cooking, Mom."
"Hey!" I flicked a piece of pickled ginger at her, and she ducked, laughing harder.
We sat cross-legged on the floor, sharing pieces and comparing favorites, the shopping bags forgotten in the corner as we savored our first real restaurant meal in months.
I scooped up the empty containers, a happy ache in my belly. Even after our shopping spree, the sight of Madison's radiant smile made my heart sing.
"Bedtime for you, kiddo. I'll take care of the leftovers." I piled the containers into the fridge, happy to keep the rest of the sushi for myself.
Madison's eyes widened. "But Mom, it's still early!"
"It's been a big day." I nudged her toward the bathroom. "Get yourself cleaned up, then off to bed. No arguments."
She dragged her feet to the bathroom, sending me a mock glare over her shoulder. I listened to the shower turn on, the sound of her soft singing filtering through the door.
My mind wandered back to the day's events as I cleaned up the living room, stacking the shopping bags more neatly in the corner. I smoothed a hand over the navy dress we'd bought for the wedding, a quiet smile on my face. For the first time in a long time, I felt excited to dress up, to feel elegant and confident. I'd spent so many years focusing on survival that this indulgence felt almost foreign.
The sound of the shower turning off snapped me back to the present. Madison emerged a few minutes later, her hair wrapped in a towel, her skin pink from the hot water.
"Night, Mom." She padded toward her makeshift bedroom. "Love you."
"Love you too, Madi." I blew her a kiss, turning off the main light and leaving just the small lamp by the couch.
When I heard her soft snoring, I allowed myself a moment to just stand there, listening to her sleep. In the dim light, I let my emotions wash over me—the relief, the gratitude, the sliver of hope that things could be different for us. That we could finally catch a break.
I shed my clothes, hanging my new dress carefully in the closet before stepping into the bathroom. The shower still held some residual steam, making the mirror cloudy. I ran my fingers over the glass, drawing a heart.
The hot water pulsed against my skin, massaging away the tension from the day. I lathered my hair with shampoo, breathing in the fresh, herbal scent, and scrubbed my palms over my scalp. Letting the suds run down my body, I reached for the citrus-scented soap. Moving the loofah in slow circles, I washed my shoulders, across my chest, feeling the water cascade over my curves. I took my time, letting myself linger under the relaxing stream, rinsing the soap off slowly.
Squeezing the excess water from my hair, I stepped out, grabbing the fluffy towel I'd bought for Madison, wrapping it around myself, letting the warm fabric soak up the remaining drops. The evening chill kissed my skin.
I stayed there for a moment, just standing, the towel slipping a little as I reached for the toothbrush. I pushed the replay button in my mind, picturing the day's events, too good to be forgotten. Madison's delight in the dress, her excitement as we splurged on art supplies, the woman from Elysian Threads handing me that magical check.
Securing the towel, I brushed my teeth, the minty freshness waking me from my reverie. Flossing slowly, I realized this was the calmest I'd felt in ages. Maybe it was the long day, the hot shower, or the promise of a fresh start. I felt lighter somehow, like hope was a tangible weight in my chest.
In my room, the faint scent of lavender greeted me. I pulled on comfortable cotton pajamas, extinguishing the lamp on my nightstand. The faint glow from the living room illuminated the doorway, casting just enough light for me to see by.
Outside, the night was quiet, the usual weekend noise from the bar thankfully absent. I slid between the sheets, my eyes fluttering closed. My fingers toyed with the hem of the pillowcase, feeling the softness between my fingertips. Nine thousand dollars, I thought. We can breathe now. We can finally breathe.
I released the breath I'd been holding, letting the weight of the day settle into my bones. The faint light from the window painted the room in soft silver, casting a peaceful glow over the piles of laundry and canvases waiting to be painted. Tomorrow, I promised myself. I'll tackle it all tomorrow.
In the quiet darkness, I let myself drift, tomorrow's worries melting away. Madi's peaceful face floated into my mind, and I smiled. That little guardian angel of mine, always taking care of me, just as much as I take care of her.
With that warm thought, I fell asleep, the day's magic tucked safely into my heart.