MIRA

I hate that I have to smile through all that because I need the paycheck, and most of all, I hate that I can’t afford to quit; it’s my only way of balancing the bills.

By 10 a.m., my back aches, like I’m carrying the whole world around, and my patience is already as slim as a sewing thread.

Hank asks me to re-mop the entire kitchen floor even though it’s already neat, just because he catches me leaning against the counter for a few seconds. It’s as if he’s always after me. I don’t know.

“I don’t pay you to rest,” he snaps. “I pay you to work!”

Jason whispers, “Fuck him! I think he’s competing for something.” I let out a soft laugh, but the laughter doesn’t fix the exhaustion. It doesn’t fix the fact that my pay envelope is too thin, and it also doesn’t fix the fact that my paycheck isn’t coming in a week.

I scrub the mop across the tiles till my shoulders ache, trying not to shed a tear because I know that when I start, I won’t stop that easily. Besides, I’d rather walk home, even though it’s miles away, than let Hank see me cry.

By noon, the diner smells like bacon, grease, frustration, and desperation. I tied my apron tighter as I saw the line stretch through the door from the counter. Hank’s voice carries across the whole room like a horn, and Jason’s tray clatters on the floor after a toddler throws orange juice at him.

“Urh! Someone’s being naughty,” he says to the toddler, smiling as he swings his fingers.

I snort, nearly choking as I let out the laughter.

“Don’t encourage him, clean it quickly!” Hank snaps from behind the counter. I waste no time giving him the finger the second his back is turned, then drop to my knees with a rag.

Jason slides me a sympathetic look as he passes by, like he’s sorry for me being punished in his place.

I smile, despite the weight pressing down on me.

Soon the line thins, and that should make me feel relieved, but instead I’m left with my thoughts.

I quickly step out for a cigarette when I noticed Hank was out of sight. I stick my hand in my jeans pocket bringing out a pack of cigarettes. I wipe my sweaty palm on my apron and light my cigarette. As I inhale the first time, I feel my body relax.

“You’re brooding again,” Jason whispers as he walks past me to drop his bucket.

“I’m not brooding,” I whisper softly. I exhale while a small laugh escapes me. “I do have a lot of things on my mind, but I know I’ll get through eventually.”

“Course you will.” He smiles. “But your Prince Charming will come soon enough, and you’ll be swept off your feet, and your current situation…” he teases.

Jason is always there; he talks me out of so many bad decisions I might have considered a long time ago. We’ve been working together for two years now, and not once has he betrayed me. He always has my back.

I love how most times Jason comes home and stays with me and Nora, even reads bedtime stories to her. He's such a sweet soul, too sweet, in fact.

“Soooo, are you seeing anyone?” I shoot Jason a look with my raised eyebrows. Inhaling one more time, I throw the cigarette on the floor and step on it.

“Urhhm, yeah, I think,” he replies.

“You think?” I snort, letting out a loud laugh. “We better get back in before Hank notices we’re gone.” I continue

“Oh fuck him, but yeah, I mean…” he continues, using his right hand to cover his eyes for a moment, “But it’s nothing serious yet.”

“Hmm, I’ve been hearing that for a while now. Hashtag ‘nothing serious.’” I say, making the quote sign in the air.

“That’s the reply you give every single time. Are you THAT scared of commitment?”

“I’m not, I just don’t trust these guys. Until I see their true intentions, I’m flying solo,” he mutters, spreading his palms.

“I want to ask about you, but… I’d rather not. Your love life hasn’t had life in it for a while now.”

“Yup, I’ve been flying solo.”

“We should drink to that, ‘flying solo,’ you know. Let’s hit the bar downtown after work,” Jason suggests.

“Nahhhh, I can’t. I have to be home early to drop something for Nora, so she’ll have supper. I need to. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if she slept hungry,” I say, shaking my head vehemently at the idea he brings up.

“So no,” I add as I sink my teeth into the hamburger buns I grab across the diner. “Hmm, these are so delicious. I could eat them every day and still wouldn’t get tired.”

“C’mon, we’ll have just one drink. Don’t be a party pooper,” Jason says with a devilish grin that could keep you up at night. “You’ll be home before you know it. I mean, the liquor will cure your pain, the pains I know you’re feeling, physically and emotionally. Think about it like therapy.”

“C’mon, you’ll see that you need it,” he nudges me with his elbow.

“Drinking won’t help. I’ve been here two years and some, Jase,” I say quietly. “If there was an escape, I’m pretty sure I would’ve found it by now.”

His eyes soften. “Hey, you’re stronger than you think. Besides, you haven’t tried drinking,” he says sarcastically, winking.

I let out a soft laugh. “Okay, fine, just one drink. I need to be a little strong to be able to ride home.” He’s just trying to help in his own way.

“Mira!” It’s Hank. His voice snaps through like a whip.

“Yeah?” I jump.

“Go reorganize the shelves in the back pastry. It’s a disaster.”

“Didn’t I just..”

“Now!” he barks, cutting off any attempt at protesting.

I don’t have a choice. I clench my jaw and stomp toward the pastry.

The pastry is already neat, so neat that it could pass any kitchen inspection. But Hank doesn’t need the kitchen fixed. He wants me fixed. Broken and obedient. Too busy to remember I’m a person, not a working bot.

And yeah, it’s really working.