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Of course, life isn’t fair. But does it have to be so impossibly hard?
My nose starts to burn as my throat feels like it's closing off and my knuckles ache, turning white as I grip the worn leather.
Last month I was telling my best friend Everly how good my life is and how happy I am to get to take care of my mother. Now that option has been stripped away through no fault of my own.
I glance up at the huge house that I'm parked in front of, well aware that I'm 30 minutes early. Getting a job isn't the easiest thing. Not right now, not with my qualifications. I've spent the majority of my adult life taking care of my ailing adult mother as an in-home care provider, but thanks to changes in both the rules and the laws, I can no longer be her caretaker so I have to find a stranger who wants to take on my very specific skill set.
I can still hear Everly's voice in my head. Trust me, you don't want to work for this guy. He's a nightmare.
Maybe he is, but he's the only one not asking for complete medical qualifications that I just don't have, and he pays better than any other option I’ve considered.
My phone rings and I let go of the steering wheel with a cramped hand to pick it up. Everly's face pops up on my phone screen and I answer quickly.
“Tell me I'm not stupid or crazy.” My voice sounds strange even to me, high pitched and much too fast.
“You're definitely stupid and crazy if you're considering working with Mr. Thorpe. I warned you the man is a nightmare, but the pay is good, and that's what you need right now.” I hear her crunch on the other end of the line and know she's probably half-heartedly munching on raw broccoli. She's been determined to drop ten pounds to get her on again, off again boyfriend James to come back.
No matter how much I tell her the guy is toxic, she just won't listen to me. I'm a thousand percent certain - and it pains me to say that, because I'm actually good at math - he's a narcissist, but she doesn't want to hear that, and she reminds me that I'm not a therapist every time I say something negative about him.
She knows that it stings when she says that. I should have completed my degree, but I had been torn in two directions, whether I should go medical or go into therapy, both in hopes of helping my mother live a more comfortable life. Sadly, the demands on my time and my life made both absolutely impossible.
“Honestly, I think you should just work and let your dad hire someone to take care of your mother.” She lets out an unsatisfied groan, and I hear the thud of something hitting a stoneware plate.
I know she makes a valid point, but it's one that I don't think I can handle. I don't want to make my dad completely responsible for my momma's care just because change is in the system. Make it so that I'm not allowed to be her full-time caretaker and get paid. We counted on my income to help make ends meet, and now we're going to have to hire someone to help mom instead of me and still have to make all the rest of our bills. It's a messed-up situation, but what else can you expect from a broken system?
“She's my mom. He's my dad. I can't just walk away.” Unlike a lot of people my age, I don't only live at home because I need to - not that I'm judging. The world is freaking hard and pay has not increased to match the cost of living in my area - but I'm thirty-six and still living at home to help take care of my mom.
And yes, it has had a profound effect on every relationship I've tried to have. The guys that I've dated have always wanted me to leave and move in with them or for us to get into a place together, but I just can't leave my mom. I've already accepted that the rest of my life might be spent caring for my mother, and I’ve made my peace with that.
“Still, you need to be able to live your own life.” Everly lets out a sigh and I try to remind myself that she's younger than I am.
“And how's that working out for you?” I know my words aren't completely kind, but I also know how my best friend will take them - and she's going to accept that the way I live my life isn't the reason I'm single, because she is mostly single too.
“Hey, I have a boyfriend.”
“And where is he? Why aren't you married? Why haven't you settled down and started having kids? Haven't you guys been dating for like twelve years now?” I know I need to back off, but she's kind of upsetting me a little bit with her refusal to think that there could be other factors at play that keep me out of relationships and not just the fact that I take care of my mother.
To my surprise, she let out a laugh.
“Okay, okay, I get what you're saying. Retract the claws, bish. And I don't think it's been twelve years exactly because of how much off time we've had, but we did start dating about twelve years ago.” I hear her voice go kind of misty and know that she's thinking about her life and reflecting on how long it's been. “I hadn't realized it's been so long.”
“The time really does fly.” It all hit me this morning like a brick between the eyes. My age, my life, my choices. While I can say with certainty that I wouldn't change it for anything, I can imagine a life where my mom isn't sick and I've been able to spread my wings and live the life that I dreamed of as a little girl.
“How much time do you have?”
I pull the phone away from my ear and glance at the time on the screen. “Still about fifteen minutes.”
“You're there already, aren't you?”
Trust my friend to know me well enough to know that I would show up half an hour early for an interview, and then just sit and stew and wait and stress until the time came to go inside and get started. “Of course.”
“You've got this, okay? Just prepare yourself for the worst and you'll do fine.”
“That does not give me confidence.” She's already warned me that working for Mr. Thorpe is a nightmare. She was a nanny for his daughter before I was, and she lasted about two weeks. I can't be certain that it's not because of her poor work ethic or because she just didn't like the job, but she has warned me extensively that I’m going to hate this job.
The difference is I don't really have a choice. I need the work, I need the money, my feelings about the job don’t matter. But I'd be lying if I tried to say I wasn't a little bit nervous about how badly this might go. “But I think I'm going to get off of here and try to prepare myself.”
“You can do this.” On the other end of the line, I hear the sound of a stoneware plate clinking on a granite countertop and know she’s finished her snack... or she’s given up on it.
