Page 24 of Getting it Right (Addy's Rollercoaster)

“Oh, Ella, my baby girl,” I said to fill the stillness with words. “I miss you so much.”

The gathered tears spilled, but I swiped them aside. Once my vision cleared, I searched the apartment and found the plastic bag the hospital staff had given me to put my belongings in when I was discharged.

Locating the trust paperwork wasn’t hard. There was nothing else in the bag but maternity clothes that I would never wear again and my shoes. Unfolding the stapled papers, I read the details. Line by line, I scanned every sentence, but there was nothing in the document that would help me get my daughter back.

I tried to watch television. I didn’t wonder where the TV had come from or how the cable bill got paid; it was all spelled out in the trust. The apartment was paid for, and the trust continued as long as I kept to the terms of the original agreement and stayed away from Ella.

True to his word, Winston hadn’t put me out on the street, but in a way, I would have preferred it. The apartment didn’t feel like a safe place—it felt like a payoff.

That night, I slept fitfully. I dreamed about my baby and woke alone with my pillow wet from my tears.

In the morning, I made myself eat breakfast, milk and cereal that Teresa had brought on one of her visits.

I owed her so much for sticking by me, but it was time for me to claw my way free from my grief. Heartache would always remain my constant companion, but I had to carry it on the inside, not the outside. I had to learn to take care of myself now. I couldn’t wallow.

I picked up the paperwork again. The apartment was paid for, which was something. No phone, though; I’d have to take care of that. The lump-sum trust fund with all the zeroes couldn’t be withdrawn in a big chunk, but I could use it as collateral.

An idea began to form. Maybe I hadn’t been happy before everything went wrong, but I’d been as close to it as I would probably ever get when I was around music.

Giving that some consideration, I bit down on my lip. I knew music—what sounded good, what I liked, and I knew how to manage a bar.

What if I opened my own club? With Winston’s closed, there would be a void in Southside.

There was a void inside me too without Ella, but I couldn’t focus on that. That emptiness would never be filled.

Still, I could be useful and productive. That would be something to be proud of. I didn’t have much else, and I did know that I didn’t want my sister or anyone else to fill sorry for me. I’d been knocked down many times in my life, but the good part about hitting rock bottom so many times was that I knew how to get myself back up again.

When Teresa stopped by to check on me later that morning like she said she would, I was dressed and ready. I explained my plan to her and asked if she would be interested in becoming my bartender.

“Hell yes,” she said without hesitation. “I actually know where there’s a property for sale that might work.”

We drove away from my apartment on the border of La Rasa Prima territory. The farther west we went, the better. The buildings had less graffiti, and there were more businesses open.

“Here it is.” Teresa flipped on her blinker and turned into a parking lot beside a low-roofed building with a for-sale sign out front.

My gaze darting around the property, I sat up straighter in the passenger seat of her minivan. “This is perfect.”

I unfastened my seat belt and got out of the vehicle before she did. The parking lot was big, but not too big. The building was small, but could be expanded since the lot size was large. The club could be opened right away to bring in short-term income, then expanded as funds allowed.

“It used to be a barbecue place,” Teresa said, moving to stand beside me.

I nodded absently. There was a hint of woodsmoke in the air, and I vaguely remembered the restaurant being here. “It did pretty well.”

“Yeah, the location is good,” she said. “The barbecue, not so much.”

I agreed on both counts. The location was ideal, being on the corner of two busy thoroughfares.

“You can’t fix a bad location,” I said.

“It’s got a kitchen and room to expand.”

“Yeah, but just the bar in the beginning.” It would have to be me doing most of the work until I was sure the business would take off. However, I couldn’t bartend since I was underage. “I’ll have to find a good bartender.”

“You have a good bartender.” She pointed to herself. “Me.”

I took her hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”

“For nothing. I needed a job. I think this has the potential to really be something big.” She glanced back at the building, and so did I.

---