Reasons Why: When Bad Things Happen Book 5, page 12
Somehow, none of them remembered that Sally also worked eight hours a day.
Those eight hours were nothing new. Then why did they seem so much harder now? Sally was not a stranger to work, but now she dragged herself through each day, crashing into bed as soon as she could in the evening.
The morning sickness was mostly gone, although Sally had no idea why people called it morning sickness. Oh, if only it happened in the morning. That nausea stayed with her all day and often into the night. She ate dry crackers, until even the thought of just one more made her want to puke, which sort of defeated the whole purpose.
She hadn’t even started to show yet, not really. How would she keep up with her life when she got heavy and had to drag a belly around?
Chapter 17
Money. It all came down to money. Always. Sally yearned for a time when she didn’t have to worry about money.
Her mother was improvident, never, ever thinking about the future, always out for the pleasure of the moment. Life didn’t work that way. Well, unless you had the sugar daddy that Izzy was always on the watching out for.
It could be worse, Sally thought. At least Izzy hadn’t brought home a loser in a while.
Sally recognized that tread. When Izzy had something on her mind, some rant, she had a particular stomp to her step. “How d’you get knocked up?”
The usual way, Sally thought. She waited, knowing there was more.
“That’s not the worst thing. You did it with no man to support you. How could you let that happen?”
Ah, the same way you let it happen to you. Three times, in fact. From experience, Sally knew when to hold her tongue.
“How do you plan to look after this baby?” Izzy demanded. “I’m not supporting it. I’ve got enough on my plate, looking after my own kids.”
The nausea was especially bad today. And the fatigue. Most days Sally understood her mother, tried to shield Izzy from realities she would find too harsh to face. But today, her compassion fund was dry. Right now, she felt sorrier for herself than for her mother. “Looking after your own kids,” Sally repeated.
“That’s right. You have no idea how hard it is, how relentless.” She sniffed. “Guess you’re going to find that out.”
Bracing herself on the back of the chair and the desk, Sally rose to her feet from where she worked, balancing their accounts. “Just how do you look after your own kids?”
“I work hard all day. And the work doesn’t end when I come in through this door.”
Enough with the delusions. “That’s true. The work does not end when you leave the job. I should know.”
Izzy, a little less sure of herself now, made a concession. “Yeah, you have a job now, too.”
“I’ve always had a job, since I’ve been 13 years old - sometimes part-time, sometimes several part-time jobs at once, and sometimes a full-time job on top of a part-time one.”
“Oh. Yeah, but those were just little things, here and there.”
“They sure didn’t feel little when I was doing them, going to school and looking after this place.”
“Looking after this place is never-ending,” Izzy agreed.
Sally moved closer, into her mother’s personal space. “What would you know about looking after this place? When’s the last time you cooked a meal here? When’s the last time you’ve done laundry? Cleaned the bathroom?”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, young lady. I did plenty of that when you were young. There was no one but me to do it all.”
“True. But then you dumped it on me.”
“Everyone has to do their part. You’re the oldest. You have to help out.”
“Help out, sure. But do it all? That’s something else, and I’ve been doing it all since I was 13!”
“You exaggerate.” Izzy turned away, searching through her purse for a smoke.
“Exaggerate!”
“Of course. Besides, I did it all on my own for years. I deserve a break.”
Sally bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from saying more. She’d tried, more than once, to make her mother see reality, but Izzy steadfastly refused that version of the world. If Sally pushed too much, Izzy would retreat either to her bed, or stay away for days, missing work while she partied with friends. They couldn’t afford for her to be docked pay.
Izzy upended her purse on the coffee table. “There’s got to be more here.” She rooted around in the mess until she found her wallet. Opening the billfold section, she found a twenty and a ten, plus loose coins in the change purse area. “Where’d all my money go?” She looked accusingly at her oldest daughter. “Did you take my money?”
Sally shook her head. “Of course not.”
Izzy let that go. “Must have been that Laura. That child always wants more.”
“I haven’t seen Laura or Bethany near your room. Where’d you leave your purse?”
“Beside my bed, as usual.”
“How much did you spend at the bar last night?”
“How am I supposed to know that? When I’m out having fun, I’m not counting pennies.” She stuffed the jumble of items back into her handbag. “You wouldn’t want to run out to the bank machine for me, would you? I’m tired and I need a nap.”
“Just a minute.” Sally sat back down in front of the laptop and pulled up her mother’s bank account. “You have a bit you can withdraw, but it looks like you’ve already spent everything from this paycheck.”
“Let me look. That’s just not possible.” She wasn’t sure what she was looking at.
Sally pointed out the balance.
“I make a lot more money than that,” protested Izzy. “There’s got to be more than that left.”
Sally took a deep breath. She really wasn’t up to getting into this right now, but they had thrust it upon her. Laura had said Mom would be mad. She was right, but Sally had hoped to stave off the volcano at least until she was feeling better. She pulled out their ledger book from the drawer and opened it to that month’s pages. “Here’s the amount of your take-home pay.”
“Pitiful, the amounts that the government withholds from poor, working people.”
“Here are all our expenses - they’re totaled here. Then we divide that by two, because I’m paying half of them.”
Izzy waved away that last bit.
Sally continued. “So, from your paycheck, we have to take off half of the expenses.” She pointed to the computer screen. “See, here is where your check went into the account. Then your half of the expenses were withdrawn.” She checked that her mother was paying attention. “What’s left is the amount of money you have to spend on yourself until your next paycheck.” She rested her hands in her lap and waited.
Izzy stared, then moved her gaze several times between the ledger book and the screen. “But that’s not enough to live on. I’ve spent more on a girl’s day out than that.”
“I suppose you have,” agreed Sally.
“But I don’t get paid for another week.”
“True.”
“What am I supposed to do until then?”
“Like the rest of us - budget and make do.”
“After all I do around here, after I put up with that stupid job all week, I can’t even go out and have a little fun?”
It wasn’t pleasant to see a grown woman pout, Sally thought.
Izzy turned on her daughter. “This is all your fault. Before you brought your tail back here, we were doing just fine. I had lots of money to do the things I wanted to, things I needed to do.”
This was going to get ugly. “No, you didn’t.” Sally tried to keep her voice level. “You were behind in your rent. Other bills went unpaid. This place was a trash heap. Things were not fine.”
“It’s that Laura’s fault. After you ditched us, she was supposed to look after things. That girl is so lazy. She let this place go and she couldn’t even keep the bills paid on time. I tell you…”
“No. It was not Laura’s fault. You took too much money out of the account, not leaving enough to pay the bills. You almost got yourself evicted.”
“It would never have come to that.”
Sally just looked at her mother. How could someone of her age be so delusional?
Izzy paced. Some modicum of reality must have penetrated. She lit a cigarette, even though this was a no-smoking building. “You know what the problem is?” She continued without waiting for a response from Sally. “I’ve been without a man for too long. Men make more money than we do. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking lately, sticking with my girlfriends, instead of socializing.” She looked Sally’s way, as if expecting an argument. “I’ve still got it, you know. I can get any man I want, and he’ll be begging to move in here, to help with the expenses.”
Sally’s heart sank. Not again.
Chapter 18
She was not supposed to take phone calls at work, but her phone kept buzzing. When no one was looking, she slipped the mobile out of her pocket. Daryl. Again. She silenced the call. She was through with him. If he didn’t want her and the baby, she didn’t want him.
Next, her phone vibrated, signaling an incoming text message. From him. “Meet me at Dairy Queen when you get off work. It’s important. Darla says to tell you to be sure to come.”
Darla. Why would Daryl’s twin sister say that? Was something wrong with her? Sally always liked Darla, some days more than she did Daryl.
“What’s up?” Sally asked as she eased her swollen belly into the small space between the plastic booth and the table.
Daryl’s eyes traveled from her face to her boobs to her abdominal bulge, and back again. “I see you’re growing in lots of places.” His grin was close to a leer.
“Look all you want, but that’s all you’re getting. Your choice, remember?”
“I’m not here to fight with you.” As a peace offering, he shoved a peanut buster parfait across the table to Sally. Her favorite. He slurped his milkshake through a straw.
There was no distracting Sally that easily. “Then why did you call? You made it clear you didn’t want me to have this baby.”
“And, I don’t. At least I don’t want any kid.”
Sally hoisted her purse strap over her shoulder. Placing both hands on the table, she pushed herself up. “The kid and I go together.”
Daryl placed his hand over hers. “No, wait. I need to talk to you.”
Sally puffed out a breath. “Fine. Make it fast. I’m tired and want to get home.”
“Darla’s been asking after you.”
“How is she?”
“She’s fine.” He looked away. “She said I’m an ass for letting you go.”
“Darla always was a smart woman.”
“She was riding me for weeks about why we broke up. When I finally told her, she went nuts on me.”
That seemed over the top, even if Darla and she had gotten along. “She thought you should grow up and be a dad?”
Darly picked at a fingernail. “Not exactly. She said that the kid might be better off with just you as a parent.”
“Huh.” Sally leaned back and crossed her arms.
“She said some other stuff.” Daryl raised a thumb to his mouth and gnawed on a cuticle, a sure tell that he was uncomfortable. “She said it was one thing if I didn’t want to be in the baby’s life.”
“And you don’t.” A statement rather than a question.
“No, I don’t. I didn’t plan on being no daddy. But Darla says I got responsibilities. Even if I’m not raising the kid, I should support it.” He hastened to add, “With money, that is.”
Well, this was unexpected.
“Darla says that you could take me to court if you wanted, that I’m just lucky you haven’t done that.” He looked questioningly at Sally. “You aren’t planning that, are you?”
Sally shook her head. It had never occurred to her.
“So, here’s the deal.” Daryl pulled a torn sheet of notepaper from his pocket. “Darla helped me with this. Here’s what she thinks is fair.” He thrust the paper across the table to Sally.
She glanced down. At the top of the page, hand-printed letters said $400. Under that was a line that said:
- been pregnant for seven months = $400 x 7 = $2,800
Sally’s eyes flicked to Daryl’s. Could this mean what she thought it did?
Daryl fished in his pocket for his wallet. Withdrawing it, he placed on Sally’s side of the table a folded check.
Opening it, Sally saw a check made out in her name. The dates said two weeks ago.
“Yeah, I know. It’s late. Really late, according to Darla. But I had to think about this. I asked around, and yeah, this is what guys do when they knock someone up. At least decent guys do when it’s a girl they respect.”
Sally’s mind whirled with things she could do with $2,400. Even though she’d browsed the second-hand shops, there seemed to be so much stuff that a baby needed.
“Did you keep the same email address?”
Sally nodded.
“Okay, that’s good, then. On the first of every month, I’ve set up an automatic deposit for you from my bank account. The first time you’ll need to approve it, but once it’s done the first time, then the money will come to you without you having to do anything.”
“For how long?”
Daryl shifted uncomfortably. “I dunno. Until the kid is eighteen? How should I know? I’ve never done this before.”
“So, you’re giving me $2,800 now, then $400 a month, like forever?”
“Not forever. Sheesh. At some point a kid will be on his own, right?”
“Is this check really good?”
Daryl leveled a gaze at her. “I’m not your mother.”
Sally had shared with him some of her problems with her mother.
They sat in silence a minute.
“What do you want out of this? Do you want shared custody?”
“Holy…. No! Not at all. Darla said I need to step up and help pay, even if I did nothing else.” Then he added, “Her words, not mine.”
“You know that I’ll fight you if you try to take this baby from me.”
Daryl held up his hands, palms facing Sally. “Whoa. No worries. No way do I want the kid.”
Sally carefully folded the check into quarters, then stuffed into the top of her bra. Daryl’s eyes followed her every movement. She’d take whatever she could get. It might not last, but then again, Daryl just might keep his word. He differed from the scumbags her mother attracted. Well, sort of.
Sally’d been dreading this day for half a year now. Mr. Boyes left a note asking her to stop by his office when her shift was over.
She’d worked for him for almost four years now, first part time, then with full-time hours after she finished high school. Mr. Boyes had been decent to her, as far as bosses went.
During the first trimester of her pregnancy, she’d dragged herself through her shifts, but sometimes she just had to dash to the staff washroom when the nausea grew into an eruption. She feared that the other employees would complain about the stench she left in the women’s washroom. If they complained, no word of it reached her ears.
By about the fourth month, her exhaustion lessened, at least somewhat, and the urge to vomit wasn’t a part of her every waking moment.
Now she was clumsy. She admitted it. Moving cartons onto the trolley, wheeling them into the aisles and stacking the contents on the shelves was a strain. She tried not to put her hand on her aching back when anyone was around. She switched to shoes that accommodating her swollen feet. She planned out her moves, taking care of how she lifted, and sat rather than stood whenever she could. She was pretty sure no one had noticed these minor changes in her work routine.
But she’d heard of other women being fired for being pregnant, on the excuse that they were not fit for work. Sally could not afford to lose her job.
Mr. Boyes sat behind his desk, playing with a pen. “Come in, Sally. Have a seat.” He indicated the empty chair across from him.
Sally concentrated on moving naturally, giving no sign that this lump hanging from her abdomen inconvenienced her in any way.
Boyes cleared his throat. “We’ll get right to it. You’ve worked here for four years and been an excellent employee.”
“Thank you.” Her thumb began its leisurely sweep up and down the side of the finger next to it.
He tapped his pen up and down on his desktop. “But lately, I’m getting complaints from the other employees.”
Sally frowned.
Boyes looked away. “They say you’re making them uncomfortable.”
What? Sally didn’t get it. She tried to be pleasant to everyone, offering a hand when she could, never shirking her duties. She showered before coming to work, didn’t have food stains on the front of her clothes, brushed her teeth and didn’t fart in public. How could she make people uncomfortable?
“They feel badly about you having to move boxes. They don’t think you should lift things in your, um, your state.” He nodded toward Sally’s midsection.
“Isn’t that my business? I’m perfectly capable of doing my job, and I am doing it.”
“That’s the problem. They feel guilty that you are, so rush in to help you. That takes them from their duties. They feel like they have to do their work, plus some of yours, and that’s not fair.” Before Sally could speak, he continued. “It’s because they like you. They see you as a hard-working young woman. But they worry that you’ll hurt yourself - yourself or the baby.” He let that sink in. “Maybe this isn’t the job for you.”
Sally froze. This was it. He was firing her. And for what? For being pregnant? Could he even do that? This was the time for bluntness. “I need this job.” And no one was taking it away from her. She’d fight if she had to; she was no stranger to doing difficult things. Her thumb moved faster, pressing harder against her finger.
“I get that. We all rely on our paychecks.” Reaching into his drawer, he pulled out a file. “Here’s some information for you.” The sheet he shoved across the desk said California Pregnancy Disability Leave Law. Boyes had studied the paper already, so summarized it for Sally. “You can take up to four months off work if you are incapacitated during your pregnancy in a way that means you’re incapable of doing some essential part of your job.”
