Chapter 1: My Tommy
Chapter 1: My Tommy
It's a bitter-sweet feeling. Leaving him to be taught and raised by someone else, not being there to see him learn about his environment, make his first friends, and experience life; it's heartbreaking. I'm jealous that this woman, this seemingly carefree woman, gets to raise my kid. She smiles at me, never knowing that I envy her. She is a plump woman with a kind heart, and she runs the daycare a block from my work. I suppose I kind of lucked out though. Marty was highly recommended by a coworker, and I must say, Tommy comes home happy and well fed every time.
While my life is anything but glamorous, Tommy is my everything. He's the reason I get up in the morning and the reason I work my ass off every day. I want to give him the things I never had. My parents never took me to fairs or theme parks or even on road trips. They were pretty boring people. My dad worked and then came home just to do more work on cars, and my mom was a clean freak with an obsession for romance novels. The one trip I remember taking as a kid was to Pensacola, Florida to visit my Granny. My mother practically lived in a beach chair with a hefty sack of books and bottomless bottle of Gin while my father visited every golf course and fishing spot within a 50-mile radius. I stayed with Granny playing card games, eating old candy, and watching one of the eight TV channels she had. Granny didn't ask much of me though, she didn't talk much either. I didn't see a whole lot of Florida, but I knew then, even at the age of 10, that I never wanted to live in the south. There was a hot, subdued pressure there that made life dull. I used to hear stories of my Granny filling water balloons with pudding and having food fights with all the kids in their neighborhood, my father being one of those popular kids with a 'cool' mom. Now she eats bland chicken and watches hours of Crime TV. I sometimes wonder if Grandpa never died and she never moved south if she would still be warm and vibrant.
A toy car hits my foot breaking me from my thoughts, and I look down to see a boy staring up at me. I smile sweetly and finish putting Tommy's coat and lunch box in his cubby.
"Okay, so I'll see you at 4:30 little man," I say to Tommy. He looked up at me, solemnly quiet but with a light in his eyes so profound that it takes my breath away. He hugs me and staggers off towards the Legos. I take one last look, smile a goodbye to Marty and head out the door. Oh, how I wish I could spend all day with him, but I refuse to skate by on welfare, allowing everyone else to pay my bills when I am perfectly capable of providing for the both of us.
Outside the summer heat surrounds and suffocates me. The wet, heavy air hangs low, and the cicadas pay tribute to the sun. My car is stifling even though the windows are cracked to allow air flow. I deal with the extra heat since I'm only driving a short distance away. I parked on the side of the Franklin's Foods and swing my door open. I have a few minutes before I have to walk in so I check out my f*******:. The newsfeed is filled with my high school classmates posting pictures of their recent vacations, baby photos, and gourmet meals. I can't help but notice how many of them are married or in a serious relationship. Am I doomed to be alone forever? I know I'm still young, but I feel like that train left the station a long time ago. Maybe I'm just being pessimistic. I'm sure I'll find a hulking fella to call my own one of these days. Maybe he'll be looking for the Pimentos or wants to order a custom cake for his niece's birthday. Yeah, that's how it'll happen.
I checked the time and grabbed my lunch and keys. As I walk into work, I noticed an older woman struggling to get a cart from the corral.
"Need some help?" I ask. She was so frail looking. Hunched over and wearing a wool coat despite the summer heat. She must have been only 95 lbs soaking wet and these carts tend to stick together easily.
"Oh...ugh...um yes that would be nice, thank you," she replies. Together we pulled the carts in opposite directions, and the first cart breaks loose. She plops her purse in the cart and turns back to me.
"Thank you, dear!" She giggles and hops behind the cart towards the store.
I nod and follow her in. After putting my things in my locker and filling my water bottle, I head to the Bakery. Mary is already there and is printing out the orders for today. Besides the usual breads, cupcakes, bagels, and muffins we'll make today, we have 3 cake orders and an order of Gourmet Croissants to make. Cakes have always been my favorite to make though. You start with something so ordinary, usually a choice between yellow and chocolate cake, and add colorful layers of fondant and icing. The end product is an original, edible piece of art. It's such a healing and energizing feeling making cakes. With very little prompting, a few words turn into a 3-D representation of a scene or event. Some cornstarch and ice cube trays and you have some ice that won't ever melt for a 'Beer Cooler' cake to celebrate someone's 21st Birthday. Some brown fondant and green icing with a grass tip and you have the perfect stage for a little boy's 'Monster Truck' cake. What an awesome way to work out my frustrations while simultaneously creating a dessert for someone's special day.
The day goes by quite uneventfully. The cakes were made and picked up, fresh bread was made, and a bag of old bread awaited me on the desk in the back. Mary and I are waiting for our replacements to come while we pretend to look busy haphazardly wiping countertops. Mary is talking about some drama with her sister while I wonder what to make for dinner tonight. I took out some ground turkey this morning, so I think I'll make turkey burgers with sautéed onions, with a side of rice and green beans. My thoughts are interrupted as Mary breaks out into a cackle. I manage a small laugh and scold myself for not paying attention. Luckily, she doesn't notice, and I ask her about her grandkids. A few minutes later our replacements arrive, and we clock out and grab our checks. A measly $130 is left after I pay rent and take out gas money. I grab my bag of old bread and head out to the car.
As soon as he sees me, Tommy comes running over with a big ol' smile from ear to ear. He was playing outside on the jungle gym and had just went down the slide. I scoop him up and wheel him around as he giggles that contagious laugh. We grab his things, and he shows me how he learned to button his coat today. I applaud his new skill while hiding my jealousy that I didn't get to teach him. We head towards the car and wave goodbye to Marty. It's Friday night, and I ask Tommy what he wants to do this weekend. He looks inquisitively at me and says, 'ball' to which I reply, "Yeah, let's do 'ball' this weekend," and laugh.
That night we stuffed our bellies with good food and created a fort in the living room. Tommy laughed with glee when I added the rope lights inside. After grabbing nearly every pillow from the entire house, we spilled out into it accompanied by the latest novel I was reading, coloring books and action figures for Tommy and copious amounts of crackers and cheese. It was a good night.
Saturday started with tantrums and an attack on Fort Hartley. Tommy was eating his eggs, and while he was in his chair, I was cleaning up the fort. Apparently, we had differences on how long the fort should stay up. Master Tommy eloquently displayed his concerns for a more permanent structure through shouts and fork throwing, while I quietly initiated the deconstruct phase. Needless to say, I had to make it up to him. We went to the lake where all memories of the destroyed fort faded in the sun and sand. Donned in his monkey life jacket, we swam around looking for little fishes. Hours later and utterly tired we went home and took a well-deserved nap. The rest of the night was uneventful; dinner and a movie. Sunday was my day to clean and prep for the week. I made up lunches and took out dinner items. Tommy had mock battles between a car and a rubber ducky. I'm pretty sure the rubber duck whooped the car a good one.
