Page 36 of Ruthless Serenade

When she finishes, I applaud. "Sharon, that was wonderful! See, what did I tell you? You’re the best storyteller in the whole world, honey bunny!"

Sharon beams at me, her face flushed with pride. "You think so, Mommy?"

"I do, sweetheart. Everyone at Story Night is going to love your story. I’m so proud of you, baby!"

Sharon throws her arms around me, hugging me tight. "I love you, Mommy."

I hug her back, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. "I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything in the world."

Once Sharon drifts off into slumber, I settle down in the living room and uncork a bottle of rosé. The subtle aroma of roses fills the room. Mixed with it is a hint of fruit, perhaps strawberry or peach. As I fill my glass, the scent intensifies, creating a pleasing bouquet.

After finishing the wine, I quickly check my emails one last time before calling it a night - and there it is. On the very top of my inbox sits the invitation Mrs. West was talking about, just a few days ago.

Subject: Invitation to Our School’s Story Night

Dear Parents and Guardians,

You’re invited to our upcoming Story Night on October 23rd from 3pm–6pm at our school.

Our talented students will share original stories, poems, and plays that are sure to delight and inspire.

Join us for an afternoon of creativity, refreshments, and community. Mark your calendars and contact the school office for more information.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Brenda West

Willow Heights Elementary School

As I glance at my phone’s calendar, my heart nearly stops. That’s exactly a week from now.

The school event and my big presentation at work are scheduled for the same day. For the exact same time! I can’t believe this. How am I supposed to be in two places at once? Which one should I cancel?

No!

Dammit!

Frustration grips me as I bury my face in my hands and I feel like I could scream. Handling this situation seems impossible. Missing the presentation at work is not an option; it will cost me my job. Christine will fire me immediately. I have no doubt about it.

But if I stay at work to attend to my duties, it means I’m letting down Sharon. How could I, as a mother, miss my daughter’s moment in the spotlight? Especially when this performance could serve as a form of therapy for her selective mutism?

Shit!

Fuck!

Shit!

Argh!

My frustration turns into anger and I feel like I could punch a hole in the wall. What the hell am I supposed to do? Surely, parenting can’t be this difficult for everyone. If it was, parents would be warning others not to have children. There would be public service announcements about the emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion that comes with raising kids and keeping a full-time job at the same time. Did my own parents struggle like this? I wish my mom was still alive so I could ask her.

No, they didn’t, Mindy.

They had each other.

None of my friends have children yet. Betty is on the other side of the world building her business, and often says she’s not cut out for motherhood. My sister, Alexis, is in rehab, and motherhood is probably the last thing on her mind right now. We are not really in touch, anyway.

I can’t believe this. I pour myself another glass of rosé, hoping it will help me find a solution, but there’s just no way around it. It’s one or the other. Either I miss Sharon’s performance or I lose the only thing that puts bread on our table. Which sucks. And it’s not like Christine would give me a glowing reference if I were to look for another job.

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