Five Years Later
867 Words
**************FIVE YEARS LATER***************
“Mommy! Mommy! Look what I drew!”
I smiled, turning away from the stove as my five-year-old daughter, Haven, came racing into the kitchen with a crayon-streaked piece of paper clutched in her tiny hands.
“What do we have here?” I asked, crouching to her level as she proudly handed it over.
“It’s us! See? That’s you, and that’s me, and that’s our house! And that…” she pointed to a squiggly blob with a smile, “is Mel, my best friend!”
I laughed, a real one, the kind that vibrated all the way through my ribs and pushed the pain of the past a little further back. “It’s beautiful, baby. I love it.”
She grinned and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tight.
Five years.
Five long, messy, beautiful years since I walked out of that house with nothing but a duffel bag, two pregnancy tests, and a broken heart.
Five years since I was thrown to the wolves, and learned to raise one of my own.
After I left home, my father had all my accounts frozen, leaving me penniless. Williams never returned my calls and the one time I showed up at his house, the security wouldn't let me in.
All my friends suddenly wanted nothing to do with me. The only person who made an attempt to console me was Zac Leroy. Yes fat Zac.
He let me stay at his aunt's trailer home until one day, he was just gone. His aunt passed away and he had to leave the country to unite with his parents.
Everything was sold off by the woman's family and I was back in the streets once again, working five jobs a day to survive.
Until I got this crumbling apartment. I couldn't say my life was blissful but I was happy I could feed my child whenever she was hungry. It didn't matter if I had to starve in the process.
“Mommy, you're late again,” Haven said suddenly. “Your boss is going to scold you!”
I laughed, “Now aren't you smart? Lecturing me about being late when you are equally late for school!”
“I'm not. My fees haven't been paid yet and I don't like the other kids making fun of me when I get kicked out,” she said.
My heart clenched hard. I took a squat to her level.
“Don't worry, baby. Mommy is going to work very hard and make sure you don't have to get chased out ever again,” I assured her.
“Mommy is going to get fired if we don't get there on time,” she pointed and I laughed.
“Right! Of course.”
I packed everything into my purse and picked her up. I would have to ask my boss to let her stay with me today.
After locking up my apartment, I headed to the restaurant down town. When I got there, I found the place crowded and I was genuinely confused.
I spotted the manager, Mrs Heather, talking to some of the staff so I hurried over.
“Oh, Dahlia, you're here,” she didn't even smile like she usually would. “I'm afraid we have bad news.”
“Bad news?” I echoed.
“All the restaurants in this line have been sold out to some hot shot billionaire. The boss needed money and since he was offering a ridiculous amount for such a small place, she sold it out,” Mrs Heather said.
My chest fell. Why did this have to happen when my rent was due? I still had Haven's school fees to pay and this place was my highest paying job.
I wanted to burst into tears.
“Mommy…” Haven's big blue eyes stared sadly into mine. I forced a smile to reassure her that I was okay.
“What do we do now, manager? Most of us make earns meet from here. They can't just fire us!” Margie, my colleague, complained sadly.
“I’m afraid it is out of my hands, Mag. From what I heard, the new owner wants to renovate the place. We don't know if he's going to build a hotel or a five star restaurant. The construction workers will be here in two days, that's why the place is getting sealed off,” she explained.
“Can't we plead our case with him? I have nowhere else to go,” Charles asked. He was the only chef employed alongside me and his cooking skills were almost better than mine. “Who is he anyway? Is there a way we can reach him?”
Mrs Heather sighed. “I highly doubt that. Like I said, he is a big shot. A billionaire. You can't just see him because you want to.”
“And this billionaire is?” Margie pushed.
“Zac Leroy.”
My heart stopped. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“Don't you know him? Zac Leroy, the star soccer player?”
Soccer?
My head was spinning.
As in fat Zac, a billionaire soccer player? How? Or was I mistaken?
- Writer
