Page 1 of Blade

ChapterOne

BIANCA

My blaring alarm wakes me from my deep slumber. Throwing the sheets over my head, I contemplate if I really have to go into work today. The answer is a definite yes. I have too many responsibilities to risk losing my job.

I hate adulting. It’s so overrated.

Dragging myself from the bed, I stretch and throw my robe on.

Making my way down the hall, I head for my girls’ room. They hate mornings just as much as I do. Walking through the door, I can’t help the smile that broadens across my face. All three are stretched across their bed, mouths open, and light snores filling the room.

“Come on, girls, it’s time to wake up,” I say, turning on the light.

All three yank their blankets above their heads and pretend I don’t exist. I laugh and start peeling the covers back. Taking a seat on Naomi’s bed, I smooth down her hair.

“Mama, I don’t wanna get out bed,” Naomi mutters while snuggling into my lap.

“I know mornings are hard, baby girl.” It takes a lot of sweet talk to finally get them up. Once they get out of bed, I’m met with three pairs of gold eyes.

Just like their father.

I can’t even call him that, since he’s never met the girls. It breaks my heart knowing my girls will never have a relationship with their dad.

I grew up without my father. I didn’t want that when I had children, but life has a way of throwing a curve ball at you. Luckily, the girls are only three and haven’t become curious about their father. One day, the questions will start, and I have no clue what I’m going to tell them.

“Let’s get dressed, so I can take you next door to Miss Josie.” It takes about forty-five minutes to get the girls dressed. I had to dispute five different arguments about unicorn slippers, tiaras, and so on. Raising three little girls, I’m constantly being a referee.

All three have completely different personalities. Naomi is my loud, boisterous one. Mari is the quiet one. Give her some crayons and a coloring book, and she disappears into the nearest corner. Abigail is my goofball. We call her Abi for short.

After they’re dressed, I take them next door to my neighbor. She’s a godsend. Miss Josie watches the girls free of charge. She and my mom are old friends, and she looks out for me. I knock on the door, and Miss Josie answers with a huge smile.

“Morning, little ladies. I made your favorite oatmeal this morning.”

The girls cheer, shout bye, and take off for the kitchen. After a quick goodbye, Miss Josie races after the girls. I go back home and get dressed for work. Before I leave, I stop by my mom’s room to see how she’s doing. After knocking on the door, I enter and see her sitting up in bed.

“How are you feeling this morning, Mama?”

“Not too bad today,” she says, trying to stifle her coughs.

This has to be the worst feeling. I never thought I would be watching my mother wither away at forty-eight years old, but that’s exactly what’s happening. She needs open-heart surgery. Her insurance doesn’t cover it, and she refuses to let me pay it off.

The doctor gave her six months to live without the procedure. That was a month ago. I know she wants me to focus on the girls, but I can’t lose her. My mom has been my everything. She worked three jobs to get me through school. I will forever be grateful to her.

“I’m heading out to work. Call me or Miss Josie if you need anything.”

“I know, baby. Go, before you’re late.”

Nodding, I head out the door, lock it, then rush to my crappy car. This car is on its last leg, but I don’t have a choice to upgrade vehicles.

Ever since Robert demoted me to a shitty prep cook, I can barely afford my rent and taking care of the girls. Every time I see the sleazeball I want to kick him in the man jewels. He demoted me because I declined his offer to take me on a date.

He didn’t come right out and say it, but a week after I declined his offer, I came into the kitchen to see my schedule had gone from line cook to prep cook, docking my pay three dollars. I was barely making my bills as a line cook. The past year has been hard, trying to find a better-paying job and then Mom got sick, and the responsibilities grew.

Pulling into work, I look at the clock. I have three minutes to clock in. Rushing into the building, I clock in with a minute to spare. After grabbing my apron, I wash my hands and head to the prep line.

Kelly and Bryan give me weak smiles, which tells me Robert is already on a warpath this morning. Great. Just what I need. I haven’t even gotten a chance to have my morning coffee yet.

“Bianca! Why were you late?!” he barks, walking into the kitchen.

---