I pushed back the covers and got up. Madison was still asleep in her alcove, one arm thrown over her head, her cast resting on the pillow beside her. I stood there for a moment, watching her breathe. So small and trusting and precious. I was all she had, and I could not mess this up. Nurturing them emotionally was something that had come naturally to me. I’d never doubted my instincts about that. If only I’d had a way to keep them clothed and fed. Because the truth was—without that it didn’t really matter if I had the right method of discipline or nurturing. I was not fulfilling their basic needs.
And I hated myself for it.
In the kitchen, I made coffee on autopilot, measuring the grounds and pouring water into the machine. I pressed the button. Nothing happened. I pressed it again. Still nothing.
“Come on,” I muttered, unplugging it and plugging it back in, then pressing the button a third time.
Dead. Of course. One more thing I couldn’t afford to replace. I’d bought it at a yard sale three years ago for fifteen dollars. It had lasted longer than I’d expected. But now, like me, it was done.
I filled the kettle instead, set it on the stove. Today would be tea instead of coffee.
Trevor sat at my feet, tail thumping against the floor.
“Breakfast in a minute,” I said.
While the water heated, I opened my laptop and did a search for “apartments for rent Seattle.” I stared at the results without really seeing them.
Two bedroom: $2,700/month.
Too small.
Three bedroom: $3,800/month.
Even with my parents’ help, how would I afford that?
Three bedroom in the suburbs: $3,200/month. Plus first, last, and deposit. At least nine thousand just to move in.
My stomach twisted as the kettle whistled. I got up from the table and poured hot water over a teabag. I hunched over the counter, trying to breathe, and waited for it to brew.
“Mommy?”
I looked up. Madison stood near the kitchen table in her pajamas, cast-arm held carefully against her chest, hair sticking up in every direction.
“Hey, baby. You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep anymore.” She padded over, looking up at me. “Can I have cereal?”
“Sure.” I got the box down, poured it into a bowl, added milk and then set it at her place at the table.
She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, then sat. “Is Grady coming over today?” She brought a spoonful of bran flakes to her mouth.
My chest now had a vice squeezing it painfully. “No, honey. Not today.”
“But he said he’d take me shoe shopping.”
“He shouldn’t have promised that without asking me first.” I stopped, thinking about her bandaged toe. “We’ll get you new shoes soon. I promise.”
“But I want Grady to come.”
“I’m sorry, but not today.”
“He’s fun. And he knows which shoes are the cool ones.” She kicked her feet under the table. “When’s he coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he mad at us?”
“No. Of course not.”
