My Home Is With You [LGBT+]

Five

WE'VE BEEN LIVING TOGETHER for a week and I've never been more exhausted before.  Gabriela sleeps with Alessandra in what used to be my room while I sleep in my parent's room with Miguel.  He cries often and sometimes it's hard feeding him.  I can tell he doesn't like the new formula much, but at least he still eats when he's hungry enough.

I drop him off first.  I stop by my neighbor's apartment, coincidentally my niece's home, who was willing to watch Miguel while I work.  It's complicated.

The girls are still able to attend school, thank God for public education.

"Adios," the older woman smiles as she bounces Miguel.

"Bye," I wave as I follow after my girls.

In a matter of minutes, Aless is standing in front of her school and rushing toward her friends with a hasty wave thrown my way.

Lastly, Gabriela.

She's been getting the worst end of it.

She's three and aware enough to know her parents aren't coming home, but she misses them and has nightmares about that day.  Some nights she sneaks into the room I sleep in and she stays with me and Miguel.  I don't say anything.  I simply hold her tight until her tears stop and her breaths even. 

It's the only thing I can do.

"Bye baby," I smile as I hand her over to her daycare teacher.

She looks at me pleadingly. 

She's scared that I won't come back for her.  She's terrified.

"Ya vengo, okay?  Solo voy a ir a comprar donuts para que coman," I lie. I'll be back for her, but I'm not actually going to buy them donuts.

Reluctantly, she let's go of my hand with the promise of sweets.

I'm about to pivot and leave, a piece of my heart breaking at her wide tear-filled eyes.  That is, until I stumble upon a small tan-skinned, indigenous woman who looks at Gabriela, then glares right at me. 

She used to like me.  I used to babysit her son.  But she can't fathom the fact that her own niece and nephew prefer staying with me than her.  To be fair, Miguel doesn't exactly talk, but Gabby refuses to go with her, insisting on staying with me and Aless.

I tilt my head and say a quick hesitant good morning.

She ignores me.

I was taught to be respectful.  If she wants to be immature, then that's her problem.

I hurry to my first job of the day.

I managed to land a part-time gig at DD in the mornings.  I greet the people at the register before heading to the back.

I first asked to be placed as a cashier much like I did at the fast food restaurant, but they said that they had a surplus of cashiers working the register.  So, they asked if I could back instead.

I found out bakers get paid more, not by much, but it's still more than what I would've made.

I now make what I need to pay for rent and electricity and still get enough left over for food.  It's not a lot, not when I'm spending most of it on the kids.  But it's a heavy weight off my shoulders and I can breathe just a smidge easier now.

Quickly, I tie my apron around my waist and take out the dough.  I roll it with a pin, stretch it, and warm it up to form the donut shapes.

I don't take a break and as soon as my shift is over, I head to my second job right across the street.  I guess it's convenient to live in such a small town.  No car, no worry on gas money I won't be able to afford.

I change my flour covered shirt to the standard red one with the logo embroidered over my right breast pocket.  I put on a black cap and hurry behind the register.

It's a slow day.

By the second hour, I take my first break and go pick up Aless and Gabby.  I drop them off at the apartment and tell the oldest to pick up Miguel and to do her homework.  She nods obediently although I know she secretly prefers to procrastinate. 

Her eyes widen as soon as I hand her a box of donuts. The perks of working at a coffee shop is that I can bring discounted treats home.

With a smile I say, "eat as many as you want, they're for you and Gabby."

They nod eagerly and hurry toward the complex.

I watch them disappear inside the building before turning back.

I don't eat, but it's okay.  So long as they have something to munch on, I know I'm doing something right.

Tired and sluggish, I return to work to finish the rest of my shift with small bathroom breaks. My stomach rumbles on occasion at the smell of unhealthy food but I bite my tongue. I choose to ignore the ache, and settle with rubbing my tummy until the hunger pang goes away.

The forced smile that is plastered on my face never wavers even as I call, "next customer please."