A Girl Named Sweetie

7. The Story

Sweetie's POV

The door to the apartment swings open, followed by the rush of the stale air in the building and someone carrying an odd amount of bags.

"Let me help you with that!" I jump up and run towards my mother, taking about half of the crinkling plastic packages and setting them down.

"Thanks, honey," she smiles, smoothing my hair down a bit with her hand.

I rarely get to see my mom because of her long shifts waitressing at George's Diner. She gets home after I'm asleep, and she's gone before I wake up. Sometimes she feels like a ghost, like my house is more empty than I care to admit; but when she comes home early, it's worth the wait.

She slides off her sweater to reveal her red uniform, the same one I've seen her in since she first needed to get a job.

Her shoulder length brown hair falls out of its bun, and her green eyes show her end-of-work relief. I'll just say it: my mother is gorgeous.

"So, Sweetie," she starts, grabbing my hands in hers, "we didn't get to celebrate your birthday last week."

Two weeks ago, but who's counting? At least I have a mom who remembers.

"And I was just hoping that you'd forgive me," she sits down on one of our three wooden chairs, and pulls me down to the second one.

The third one sits in the corner, collecting dust.

"Oh, mom. Please, please forget about it! It's just a birthday, I'll have plenty others, hopefully," I wink.

"You remind me of your father. So kind," she smiles in a way that isn't happy, but definitely not sad; nostalgic, I think.

"Well, that is why he named me Sweetie," I remind her playfully.

Gosh, she's just the best. How many mothers come home early, sacrifice their tips and their job, just to apologize for missing one tiny birthday? She should be the one named Sweetie, not me.

"You still believe that?"

"Believe what?" I ask, furrowing my brows. Did I say something wrong?

"That that's why you're named Sweetie. You still believe that, huh?" she laughs a bit in disbelief, shaking her head.

"Of course I do! It's true, isn't it?"

"Oh, sweetheart. I don't know why, I just thought you would have found out by now! So silly of me."

"Found out what?"

What's happening? What am I missing here?

"Oh, God! Sorry, honey. I'll tell you later," she pats my cheek with her soft, dry hands, and kisses me on the forehead as she rises from her chair. 

"Wait, mom!" I grab her arm, careful not to hurt her.

"What's up, hon?"

"C-can't you tell me now?" I ask, searching her eyes for something that I'm not entirely sure exists. She seems almost amused.