The next day, even though I hated to do it, I took the day off. I spent the entire day job searching. At the advice of my mom, I went to a local temp agency and applied, even though I knew nothing would come of it. I’d only ever had four jobs in my entire life and none of them required any real skill since I didn’t get a chance to graduate from high school.
Daddy forced me quit the minute he’d found out I was pregnant, so I only made it to the end of my junior year. I had dreams of going back and getting my diploma and going to college. I wanted to make a life for Jimmy and me, but that was hard to do when you had to work every minute of every day just to make ends meet.
There were days when I thought about contacting Finn. I’d followed his career even though it killed me to do so. He was a big-time rock star now; he could afford to pay some child support. But then I’d realize the error in my thoughts. I hated Finn and Finn hated me. He had the money and the ability to take Jimmy away from me, and I knew he would. I’d die before I let anyone try to take my baby.
So instead, I pulled through and did the single mom thing the only way I knew how—I worked my fingers to the bone and slept when I could. I did, however, try my hardest to always make time for Jimmy. Having a three-year-old boy who loved me unconditionally was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I’d always make sure he knew he was the most important thing in my life.
I was in a bad place emotionally when I’d found out I was pregnant, and I thought for sure my world was ending. I went through my pregnancy practically alone, with the exception of my mom, who was dealing with health issues and a divorce, but I’d done it and every day that I looked at that precious boy with his daddy’s eyes and dimples, I knew that I couldn’t give in to my depression. Not ever. Little Jimmy saved my life in so many ways.
I got a call from the temp agency exactly a week later. Even though I hated to do it and I needed the money, I called in at the grocery store again so I could meet with them to find out about other jobs. I dressed in my best pants and a nice top. I hadn’t worn a long skirt in four years, and I swore I never would again.
The blonde behind the front desk of the temp agency reminded me of Amanda. There were a lot of blondes in California and many of them reminded me of her. I was constantly doing a double take even though I knew it was impossible for her to be anywhere.
I missed Amanda so much. It was hard to believe it had already been over four years since she died. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about her. I remember crying the day I delivered little Jimmy because I’d done it alone. Mom was in the hospital at the same time as me. Amanda would’ve been there for the entire thing. I know she would’ve. I would’ve had a baby shower and she would’ve been there helping me push when it was time.
Instead, I screamed my head off since I’d gotten there too late for drugs, and the only people who’d been in the room were the doctor who I was positive hated me and a nurse that said I was acting like a baby. It was a good memory and a bad one all wrapped in one.
I filled out some paperwork that the blonde behind the desk gave me and then I was called back into a tiny office with an older lady sitting behind a massive desk covered in papers. She stood and smiled when I entered.
“Hi, Faith, I’m Mrs. Cooper.” She shook my hand. “Please, have a seat and let’s see what we can do for you.”
I sat there silently as she went through all of my papers and my application and tried her hardest to find a job for me. It was hard considering I had limited experience and no educational background. It stung when I told her that I hadn’t graduated or gone to college.
“It looks like I may have found something,” she said in relief.
I appreciated her trying so hard for me.
“How do you feel about cleaning? As in being a maid?”
“What are the hours?” I asked.
I had to make sure it either had hours that worked with my grocery store job or paid enough that I could work only the maid position.
“Monday through Friday, and the hours are as long as the job takes. If you go in early enough and you get the job done right, I don’t see any reason why you’d have to stay in the house. It’s not a live-in position.”
“What does it pay?” I asked.
She smiled over a piece of paper. “Well, it seems the job pays six hundred and fifty dollars a week, after taxes, of course. How does that sound?”
How did it sound? It sounded amazing! I barely brought home four hundred after taxes from my two jobs a week. That barely covered rent in our small two-bedroom apartment, the bills, groceries, and everything else that went along with living.