Berlin's Fortress

Chapter Two

Word Count: 1,700

Berlin

Tending to a grown up is challenging, trying to teach a grown up what's right and wrong is more challenging, hunting for a job, however, is the most challenging.

When I exit the bookstore, which had a barista job vacancy with a sigh, I bring my hand in front of my forehead to shield myself from the glare of the sun.

It's unbearably hot for a job hunt, and apparently, I've failed to notice this earlier.

It's not until I've been rejected for the third time in a row, that I allow the disappointment to sink; following closely after is the remorse I feel at the loss of my job.

But, looking back, I don't think I could have been able to continue working at that salon after what happened with my mother.

My working at the salon, despite being my dream job, was a financial disaster, because no matter how much money I made, I spent most of it on compensation; curtesy of my dear mother.

There was a time when my mother broke one of the salon's steaming machines, and I had to work extra hours without a wage to compensate for the salon's loss. Another time, my mother put hair dye in one of the shampoo bottles to get back at me after I've scorned her behaviour and it ended up in a hairdressing disaster for a few clients.

So that incidence with the toilet stall wasn't the first but I'm glad I made sure it's the last.

Resigning was a sage decision and a preservation of my dignity, as I could have been easily dismissed by my boss.

"Stay close, Nora" I shout to my mother, who's playing hopscotch along the sidewalk.

She pushes her dress out of the way as she focuses on her next step.

As it seems, no one would employ a girl whose mother is a responsibility. At least, 'responsibility' is my own euphemism.

Employers refer to my mother's constant presence around me as a liability and an inconvenience.

I tried explaining how I can't put her on child support because her birth certificate confirms the fact that she's an adult. I also can't put her in a retirement/nursing home because she's apparently not an elder.

In addition to that, her normal mental activity denies her any privilege to any other types of institutions for the handicapped or the mentally disabled, those of which are funded by the government, at least.

Apparently, the kind of care my mother needs should be privately paid, which I clearly can't afford. Besides, leaving my mother at the mercy of strangers is out of the table. So it's me and her against the world; even if the world is too big for us.

Some passer-by's shoot my mother confused looks but I don't stop her.

She's clearly enjoying herself and I can't help the sympathy I feel as I lean against a lamppost and watch her play. She's made it a few meters away from where I'm standing, so she turns to me and cups both her hands in parentheses around her mouth,

"Bloom! Look how fast I can make it back," she shouts before immediately launching into a new hopscotch trip towards me.

I smile at her, "Careful not to trip!"

Someone stands at my left and places a hand over my shoulder, "How have you been holding up?"

I turn to greet July, my best friend, with a hug.

"Just fine," is all I say.

July's attention goes to someone by her side, and she looks down.

Her niece, Mayla, is tugging at the hem of her shirt, pointing in the direction of my mother.