C6 CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

I push my way through the bodies toward the doors as the train rocks to a stop and the bell sounds. I’m almost to the doors when someone grabs my ass and squeezes hard.

“Who did that?” I turn around and yell. “Who just grabbed my ass?”

There are so many people pushing past me—men in business suits and guys in beanie caps, guys with dreadlocks and a few that look like college kids. People pushing in and out. Then the doors are closing.

I jump off the train at the last second. “Damn it!” I yell, stomping my foot like a five-year-old.

But what the hell? What is it about my body that says: ‘feel free to grab here?’

That’s it. I’m fucking done.

I will not be anyone’s whore. I’m NOT going back to that office tomorrow. I speed walk the six blocks home. It’s light out, so I’m safe, but I still keep my eyes peeled. The neighborhood where I live is in the transition area between the good part of San Jose and the bad. On nights I work at the bar and can’t catch a ride home, I sleep on the couch in the office and walk home the following morning. Which only works because my sister, Shayne, lives with Charles and me. Not that Shayne ever believes I’m actually ever just sleeping on a couch at the bar the nights I don’t come home. My older sister’s favorite pastime has always been judging me. Of course, getting knocked up by my married- though I thought he'd divorced

PHILOSOPHY professor my first year away from home didn’t help my case. Yeah, ever lived a cliché and not realized it until afterwards? That was me.

I sigh. Shayne is a Godsend, really. I should be more grateful. When I showed up preggers, my parents cut me off and made it more than clear that I was not welcome on their doorstep. But Shayne stuck by me. She moved in to help with the baby and rent. She works from home doing graphic design work and takes care of Charles at night while I work. She’s great with him. She’s super smart and is kind of the definition of a good person…

I really should be more grateful.

I turn my keys and push open the door. All I want to do is grab a bottle of wine and forget everything that happened today, much less what I’m going to do tomorrow. Or where I’m going to get the money to pay for a lawyer better than the shitty one I hired the first time. Let alone rent. God, the next hearing is in a month, and I still owe eight-hundred dollars in back fees to the first crappy lawyer. What the hell am I going to do? Maybe let’s skip the wine and go straight to vodka.

Charles’s high-pitched wailing greets my ears when I step inside. The sound makes my stomach clench. I want to hold him to make him feel better at the same time as I wish there was someone else to deal with him so I could sit down for five minutes to decompress from the day. Shame immediately hits as I close the door. Am I that bad a mom?

“Where have you been?” Shayne shouts to be heard over Charles, a hand on her forehead. She looks exhausted and beyond stressed out. I drop my bag by the front door and hurry over to where Charles sits in his high chair by the kitchen table. Food is smeared all over his face and he keeps shaking his head back and forth when Shayne tries to spoon in another mouthful. I can tell by his overall demeanor that he’s overtired.

“Aw, baby, baby,” I croon to him. I go to give him a kiss on the head, but then think better of it when I see how goopy he is.

“Did he not get his afternoon nap?” I ask Shayne as I rinse a washcloth in warm water.

Shayne stares daggers at me as Charles keeps up his wailing.

“I’m the one who actually knows his schedule.” Her shrill voice cuts over Charles’s cries. “I don’t just pop in and out of his day whenever I want to.”

What the hell? I just walked in the door and she’s gonna give me this crap?

I stop and take a deep breath. She’s a Godsend, Penny. You and Charles really rely on her. Just keep your cool.

I wipe his face and then the tray free of the baby cereal-chicken combo that Shayne was trying to feed him. This is just an initial wipe down. There’s still some in his hair and on his neck. He’s going to need a bath, but that’s part of the nighttime ritual anyway.

Shayne keeps on going. “Charles’s exhausted. He woke up early from his nap because somebody kept ringing the doorbell when I didn’t get there fast enough. You know how he hates the doorbell.” She flings it like an accusation.

I throw my hands up, exasperated. “How is that my fault? I wasn’t even here! I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t do anything,” she scoffs deep under her breath. “That’s right. You never do.”

My shoulders stiffen and it takes every ounce of my limited energy to bite my tongue. Keep your fucking cool.

Shayne leaves Charles wailing in his high chair and grabs a manila envelope from the kitchen table.shit. My heart sinks to my ...Stomach, ive never seen an envelope like this before. Twice. First when Charles’s father requested the paternity test and then six months ago when I got the first notice of an initial child custody hearing.