There were weeks when I cleaned houses, offices, and even a dentist’s clinic where the floor smelled like mint. One rainy Thursday, Audrey waited by the window, holding my old umbrella.
“You always take care of me.”
“You look tired,” she said, peering up at me as I shook out my coat.
“I’m fine, baby. Did you finish your reading?”
She nodded. “I read two chapters. But can you quiz me on history?”
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I smiled, washing my hands.
We’d go back and forth as I cooked, her voice bouncing off the kitchen tile. It was our routine, work, dinner, quiz, stories. That was life.
And we made it work. I cleaned houses, offices, clinic, anywhere that would pay me.
“You look tired.”
***
The day I got the janitor job at the best school in town, I ran in waving the contract over my head.
“Audrey! Guess where you’re going to school?”
She blinked, daring not to hope. “Really? You got it?! The school with the big library?”
“Yes, my love. I got it.”
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My daughter launched herself into my arms, laughing, and for a moment I let myself believe we could have something better than we’d hoped.
Truthfully, the job paid a little more, but staff families got tuition breaks. Audrey’s backpack, once worn and faded, started filling up with library slips, science fair flyers, and little notes from teachers.
“Audrey! Guess where you’re going to school?”
I kept every one in a drawer, reminders that our hustle was building something.
Sometimes, after my shift, Audrey would sit in the library while I finished the last hallway. I’d look through the glass and see her bent over a book, so focused, so certain she belonged there.
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On those nights, the work didn’t feel small at all.
Still, Daniel’s family only called twice a year, Christmas and Easter.
There were no birthday calls, no check-ins. Gina’s calls were always the same: “Are you coming for Easter Sunday dinner, Stella?” as if it would be rude of me not to accept.
On those nights, the work didn’t feel small at all.
