“My classmates were talking about summer coming soon, Dad. Some will go for a swim; others will go out of town. When they asked me what we will be doing, I told them my Dad would be up for something great and fun!” He was eating the cake as he spoke, his mouth full, but I didn’t care. He was too cute. Always had been. I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride, my heart smitten with my little boy.
“James even asked if I could tell stories about your heroic missions, but I told him that they were top secret.” He continued his meal, finishing the cupcake with a big grin on his face. His teeth were coated in chocolate icing, but it was all part of being a kid. I could not stop a hearty laugh as he tried to clean himself up and failed miserably.
Being a volunteer firefighter was another thing to add to the reasons why my son was proud of me. He thought of me as the town’s hero, being a strong man to face the fires. It was what a father hoped for. That was, for his son to become proud of him.
“Dad, can we go to the lake and fish? I miss our time together.” His face suddenly turned sober. Those cute, innocent green eyes were begging me to answer him yes. It was difficult to give him the words he hoped for because it would be hard to take him there and fish tonight.
“Hey, buddy, I really wanted to go fish tonight, but I’ve got a lot of work to finish up. You know I own this big old place. We’ll go as soon as I have free time, I promise.” I hated to disappoint him, but I was without options. It was me and Garren. We had a few part-timers, but the place was mine. All mine.
He replied with a slow nod, disappointed. He forced a smile and hugged me, looking more grown up than he should have. I couldn’t help but wish for some relief, so a bit of time to spend just with him, but it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
I’d been through a lot in my life and carried a shit-ton on my shoulders more times than I could count, but nothing was more difficult than being a single parent. Nothing.
Chapter Two
Kylie
Grooving to the music playing on the loudspeaker was a hard thing to stop doing. It gave me an empowered boost while I was working. I could do my tasks all day, as long as my playlist boomed in my ear. The convenience store where I worked was chill most days and a great place to dance and read a good book.
I fixed the items on the shelves as my mom and boss had instructed. It was a boring job, and one I’d done all my life, but I could live with it. The store served as the bread and butter of our family for years. As I placed the last set of noodles on the top shelf, my mother came storming out of the stock room. Pissed.
“What the hell is that blaring sound?!” my mother shouted, frantic eyes searching the entire place to find the source of the music. I waved my hand to signal to her my spot in between the instant snacks section. I heard her rattling over the noise, her complaints overcoming the R&B music playing on the loudspeakers.
“I told you a million times, Kylie! Keep the music down!” She kept her voice clear and audible over the loud sound. I pretended to be deaf to her claims, putting my hand over my ears.
“I said lower the volume! You’re scaring customers away due to that noise!” She was screaming, her voice far too loud for the small store. Customers were looking at her, watching our little dramatic mother-daughter cat fight.
Mom was old fashioned all the way, but it was her store. Period.
“I think you’re frightening people away with the sound of your voice, Mom. Not the music.” I hated to break it to her, but it was a fact.
The customers closest to us nodded and smiled, agreeing with my honesty.
She huffed and turned, walking over to the front counter. Before I could protest, the tunes changed from the blues to the great 70’s. I knew it. Mom was a die-hard fan of these beautiful artists creating phenomenal hits, but it was too old for this generation. All I could do was smile at the thought of my mother’s stubborn ways, her verdict being the last resort followed around our family.
I walked toward the counter, taking my spot right after keeping the shelves stocked. My mother refilled the refreshments in the fridge as I approached her.
“Maybe the music choice was the reason why you whined all of a sudden,” I teased her, wiping the fridge door to clear off the moisture.
She grinned and made two thumbs up for me to acknowledge. “You can never go wrong with ABBA.”
Sadly enough, and though I would never in a million years admit it, she was right.
Singing through the chorus of Dancing Queen, she seized my hands and swayed me along with her signature dance steps. I felt awkward thanks to a group of customers watching us, but I swayed with her nevertheless. She was my mom, the superwoman of my life.
“You can dance, you can jive! Having the time of your life, whoo!” We sang together and danced until the song ended. She laughed and threw her hands in the air, going from angry to blissful in a matter of minutes.
But, that was my mother. Intensely complex. I stared at her beautiful yet wrinkled face. She was my first best friend, the center of my heart. I couldn’t imagine life without her and prayed like crazy that I would never have to live it.
“The party is over?” I asked and chuckled as she pointed to the back of the store.
“Yep. Get back to work, slacker. And leave that R&B music for your private tim
e. It’s horrid. Makes my ears bleed.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”
“You love it,” she responded with a twinkle in her eye.