After Mom’s best friend Maddie and her daughter, Lynnie, left, myfamilysat me at the dining room table. I was wearing mismatched socks, and my tears kept landing on my knees. They’d be my court-appointed guardians from now on. After a week of letting everything “settle down,” I’d moved in with them, leaving all I knew.
“And don’t expect us to bring you back to visit,” my Aunt Sarah had said, her sandy-brown curls dancing around her chin as she wagged her finger at me.
“Well,” Uncle Matt added, scratching his graying beard, “once you start working, you’ll contribute to the household expenses, if you have any cash leftover, you’re welcome to use that money however you see fit.”
My cousin Vinny didn’t look at me. He was my age, yet colder than any other teenager I knew. He had the same hair as Aunt Sarah, and his eyes were a stormy dark gray like Uncle Matt’s. He wasn’t even reacting to the conversation, just kept scooping pulled pork onto the tortilla chips from the tray Maddie had labeled “Comfort food for Nina.”
“Work?” I murmured. As an A-plus student, I’d tutored before but had never taken money for it.
“Of course,” my aunt said.“Your parents left this house and some savings, but you’re one more child to feed and clothe. We’ll need help. Everyone pulls their weight in our family.”
Mom and Dad had told me that in a real family you help each other out and make sure you’re giving as much as you’re receiving, but our love language was acts of service.
My aunt’s gentle touch on my hand urged me to look into her eyes. Pools of reddish-brown stared at me with a gleam.“Now,you’re part of our family, sweetie. We’ll look after you, and you’ll look after us.”
Itsoundedsimilar to what my parents had taught me, but thewayshe said it had my stomach in knots. With my mom and dad… I’d never gotten the sense that we were keeping score or collecting favors to cash in later.
By the next weekend, it wasn’t just mind-numbing grief anymore. My home had been sold, along with every one of my belongings that wouldn’t fit in their car. Once my parents’ phone lines were disconnected, so was mine, and I lost all contact with everyone I knew.
A few weeks into living with Sarah and Matt, they were nice enough to find me a job. And I’d been working at least twenty-five hours a week ever since. So what if I lost the job? I’d been through worse. I had a good degree and a portfolio, not a very comprehensive one, but I was hard-working and rocked any performance task sent my way. I just needed a good night’s sleep, then I’d tackle applying to jobs in the morning.
The next day,I went to the neighborhood café, Cozy Corner. It was an investment helping me to combat my spotty Wi-Fi. Three coffees would turn into at least double the amount of applications sent.
Once settled at a corner table, I opened my laptop. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I steeled myself for the task ahead. For the next hour, I updated my resume and website and drafted two different cover letters. Each word felt coated in lies, but I pushed through, determined to present myself as the best candidate possible. I applied to social media coordinator openings, digital ad assistant roles, and contentcreator positions. Each time I hit submit, a small spark of hope ignited within me. I even felt okay about my white lies on “seeking new growth opportunities” and “looking to align with companies focused on brand and employee authenticity.”
Around one in the afternoon, rejections started coming. The emails were fast and generic, the kind you get when no one bothered to read your resume or cover letter. By two, I had seven rejections in my inbox. My chest tightened, my stomach churned.
Then an opening for a junior social media coordinator caught my eye. A local cupcake shop. My vision blurred as I read through the description. The owner wanted someone for ten to fifteen hours a week to schedule daily content on social. Twenty-five dollars an hour. I almost started crying, right there, over a cupcake job. This wasn’t me. I’d worked so hard to claw out of food service social media.
My phone buzzed with a new email notification, and hope flared in my chest—stupid and desperate. Another rejection.
The idea of scheduling fucking cupcake posts hit with the same sickening feeling as falling backward off a cliff I’d just climbed, but with options thinning by the second, I applied. Two-hundred-and-fifty dollars a week beats no dollars a week. Next, I sent messages and emails to my contacts from school.
My hands shook as I dialed Vinny. He picked up on the fourth ring, his voice brisk and polite as always.
“Hey,” I said, hiding that my insides were splitting apart. “Listen, I was wondering if you knew anyone hiring. Marketing assistant, coordinator…. Honestly, anything. I just… need something.”
Vinny took a deep inhale. “You’re… still doing that marketing thing?”
It’s not a thing!I wanted to scream. Instead, my voice came out strained. “It’s my job, Vin.”Was.
“Right, right,” he said, distracted as he shuffled around and his keys. “Well, I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
I went to thank him, but the line had already gone dead. Then the phone lit up with a call from Jackie, my roommate from junior year.
“Hey, hey,” I answered, trying to sound cheerful.
“Hey, girl! The last job was no good?”
“Something like that. You have any leads for me?”
She paused. “Yeah, uh… I can ask around. But… Nina, well…”
My stomach dropped so fast I got dizzy. “Jackie?”
“Look, there was talk in the break room. Gossip you were… difficult to work with. That you… didn’t deliver. I don’t know. Maybe it’s not a big deal. People talk.” Slurping came from her side of the conversation. “I know family businesses looking to boost up their media presence, should I send them your way?”
I nodded, forcing myself to actually say words. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that.”
