I slide down the kitchen cabinets and sit on the cool, chipped tile floor. It’s mint green and hideous. I glance around my small living space as tears well. My house is falling apart. I’m exhausted and broke. Unlocking my phone, I check my email. The most recent notification is another reminder about my ever-growing student loan debt. Because when it rains, it fucking pours.
When I decided on nursing school, I applied for every scholarship I could, but even the several I received didn’t cover a quarter of my tuition. Not to mention my books, rent, and other costs. I struggle to make my monthly minimums, and with the interest rate, I’ll be lucky to pay it off before I’m seventy.
Switching to my banking app, I tap my checking account. The $2,000 withdrawal causes tears to fall. Last week, I received a visit from my father, demanding money. His gambling addiction leads him to my doorstep more and more frequently when things don’t go his way. That’s where I come in. He knows exactly how much I make as an ER nurse, including the overtime pay for the extra shifts I work. He makes sure to take every dime he can from me. And I let him because I’m terrified of him. My father isn’t a man you say no to.
I’ve never told a soul about his visits. He’s threatened both Gran and Kacey if I don’t keep my mouth shut. Everyone thinks it’s just normal life, bills, and helping Gran that keep me working extra shifts. I’m sure I would still work a couple extra days a month—but not a couple every week—if it wasn’t for dear old Dad.
I give myself ten minutes to break down. I ugly cry. I curse my father, insurance companies, the government, and the aliens in the ocean before I pull myself together and make a plan. A quick Google search starts showing me part-time remote jobs in the medical field I might qualify for. I scroll, seeing thousands of applications already submitted on each posting.
Feeling discouraged, I rise and make a snack before I move on to other options. I search local Facebook groups for bartending or side jobs but find nothing palatable. I drop my head into my hands.
What am I going to do?
I’m exhausted. I need some sleep. I’ll figure this out after a hot shower and a few hours of sleep.
I did not figure it out after a shower and sleep.
“Ah!” I yell into the abyss of my empty house.Nothing.I found nothing. I searched and searched, even called local businesses. No one is hiring for a position that would work with my nursing schedule, and I can’t wait the amount of time it would take to apply, interview, and land a remote job—if I got one at all.
My conversation with Kacey crossed my mind several times, but it’s a horrible idea. Trey and I are water and oil, cats and dogs. We would kill each other if we lived together.
Wouldn’t we?
I’m quickly running out of options—no, I am out of options—so I type out the text I never thought I’d send.
Jessie
Okay. Trey can rent a room if he wants.
Kacey
Really? It’ll be good. I promise. How much do you want for rent?
Jessie
$1,500 a month.
Kacey
Done.
Jessie
Kacey, I was kidding. That’s a ridiculous amount for a single room.
Kacey
I’m not. He can afford it and it’s better than his current living status, i.e. homeless.
Fifteen hundred a month?That’s insane. I know he makes a good living riding bulls, but still. He won’t want to pay that much when he sees this house, that’s for sure. I keep it clean and tidy, but it needs work. The cabinet door I’m currently staring at is hanging on by one hinge.
Jessie
Alright, if you say so. He can move in
tomorrow.
For Gran’s sake, I’ll swallow my pride and take the money. It’s only for a few months anyway, then he’ll go back on the road, and I’ll probably still end up selling feet pictures.
