Page 24 of Silver Sinner

"Dummy." Taylor drives her elbow lightly into my side. "I can stay late, easy."

"Nah, it's fine." Turning to face her, I nudge her shoulder with mine. "Don't worry about it. We won't be that busy with a closed kitchen anyway."

"You sure?"

I wave Taylor off and weave through the stools to where Maddie still sits in her booth. "Hey baby."

"Mommy, I'm bored." She puffs her cheeks at me.

"Are you finished coloring?"

She nods. "I wanna go home."

"I know, sweetie, but I have to work."

"Booooo!"

"I know. I know. But you can pick anything you want for dinner and if you're really good, I'll let you stay up late. How does that sound?"

Maddie's disappointment melts into a delighted grin and she nods. "Okay!"

That delight doesn't last. The dinner rush is loud and hectic, with argumentative people unable to understand why we'd be open but not sell hot food.

Between that and a toddler growing more cranky as the hours pass, I shave years off my life from stress just trying to keep everything running.

Against my better judgment, I ply Maddie with extra milkshakes just to keep her smiling, and I pay for it by the time the diner falls quiet and the world outside turns dark.

Her sugar crash is terrifying.

Maddie goes from a happy, bubbly little girl to a terror, filled with screams, tears, and tiny fists that pull hard at my hair while she kicks bruises into my shins.

Luckily, the last customers leave before the screaming gets too obnoxious, and exhaustion seeps into an ache throbbing behind my eyes.

"Maddie, stop!"

"I wanna go home!"

"I know, sweetie. I know. We can't yet.”

She screams so loud that she starts to choke and wrestles herself out of my grip like we're in some kind of extreme sport. Not that she has anywhere to go, just onto Taylor's freshly mopped floor where she writhes back and forth and yells.

"Do you want me to stay?" Taylor asks cautiously between yells.

I tiredly wave her away. "No, it's fine. Doubt we'll get any customers."

"You could close early?" As simple as her suggestion is, I've worked here long enough to know that Amanda hates three things: grease, dirty floors, and closing before hours.

"I'll be fine. You get home safe, okay?"

"Okay, see you tomorrow!"

Tomorrow.

Suddenly, forgiving Amy seems like the best thing I can do for Maddie right now because she won't last another day like this. I'm not sure I will either.

The last three hours of my shift trail past, with Maddie eventually screaming herself into a state of exhaustion and falling asleep in one of the booths.

There she remains through my last late-night customers—giggling teens eager to share a milkshake—and finally, this hellish night comes to an end.