Chapter 8: Madison

At times, I questioned my existence. Why did life have to be such a constant battle just to get the basics? Rent. Electricity. Food. Transport to and from work. And then whatever was left at the end of the month went to my Mom and my younger brother. 

Was this all I’d ever amount to? Running from one part-time and meager-paying job to the next, never earning more—or becoming more. 

I mean, I was twenty-seven already, with no education beyond high school, and my one claim to fame was being a really good barista.

Was I stuck living this way for the rest of my life? It certainly felt like it. 

I’d long given up on any big dreams of going to college and becoming a counseling psychologist for kids, hoping to one day help someone like I wasn’t able to do for my brother. But there was an undeniable itch to do more, be more, deep within me, and I knew it would lead to an explosion if I left it for too long. 

Frustration was my constant companion, and now depression was knocking on the door. What that eventual eruption might look like, I didn’t know—but I did know that something had to change.    

Working in a busy café overflowing with customers all hours of the day for barely any pay and no lunch break wasn’t the only thing eating away at my energy. I had another mind-numbing part-time job—the night shift at the department store close to my apartment, stocking shelves. 

But what leached away any positivity still left in me was when my family—my brother especially—called asking me to send them more money. I knew I was feeding the bad wolf by meeting their demands each time, but my mother was sick in bed most of the time. Nigel claimed he was the only one there to take care of her. 

More like leeching all the money I send to her, I thought, my brow creasing with both anger and worry.

Lately, I've been struggling with another problem: trying to wake up early enough to get to my morning job on time! After getting home so late in the evenings, I’ve been oversleeping more and more. My body had become so immune to my alarm clock’s ringing that it didn't wake me up anymore.

I was going to have to come up with more creative ways of waking up, like a scheduled mechanism dumping a bucket of water onto me or something. But that idea would be unnecessary if I got to work late one more time. Which I was. I was super late.

Even as I rushed to take a quick shower and dress up for work, I knew Big George had most likely made his decision to fire me already. 

And sure enough, after getting off the bus a block away and running the rest of the way, someone was already filling in for me by the time I arrived at the café. It was as if he’d known I’d show up an hour late this morning.

George was probably in his office munching on his usual thirteen donuts for breakfast, so I decided to march right in there. Low pay and horrible boss or not, I couldn’t afford to lose this job.—I’d beg and grovel if I had to. 

The café buzzed with its usual crowd, tired people standing in queues to get their caffeine fix and continue with their normal day. While some looked listless, others were straight-up angry about the unending queue and people cutting the line. 

I bumped into a customer on my way there. 

“Hey, Madison.” A familiar husky voice stopped me right in my tracks. I turned to find a set of warm hazel orbs glinting at me, framed by olive skin and dark brown locks covering his forehead. “I was just wondering where you were, thinking that maybe you didn’t have a shift today.” He chuckled nervously.

I would recognize him anywhere. Blueberry muffins and an espresso coffee with milk foam. Without fail, every morning it was the same.

And just like that, the reminder of what I would miss if I lost my job here today came rushing back to me. Seeing this handsome smiling face every morning never failed to give me the bit of motivation I needed to do it all over again the next day. 

“Uhm, hi. No… I’m actually late for my shift today,” I heard myself say, blushing—partly because of him, but mostly because I’d had to rush here like a bat out of hell. 

“Oh. At least I didn’t miss you, even if you were late,” he said, scratching the back of his head as he laughed. “There’s just something about seeing those big, friendly green eyes of yours that makes driving the extra few miles to this specific café worth it.”

My cheeks flared up even more, but it felt nice talking to him without a counter between us for once. Too bad I was too stressed to enjoy it more fully. 

“I have to…” I pointed toward George’s office and dragged a finger across my throat with a funny expression that made him laugh again. 

I found I liked the sound of it, but quickly waved at him, which he returned shyly. I turned my back, exhaled, and made my way to the closed door with a heaviness riding my shoulders. 

As I suspected, George was halfway through a box of donuts, but he had company already. A lady in a black lacy bra and short denim skirt was sitting in his lap. 

The woman turned to me, sized me up, and put on her shirt. She turned to George and kissed his face, making him turn red all over. He smacked her ass as she sashayed away. 

I tried to hide my wince of disgust but failed miserably. That was why I would never make a good actress—I couldn’t make my face act out anything other than what I was feeling.