I reach up with one of my hands and push away a couple tears. I don't know why I'm crying when I know that I clearly had a daydream but for a daydream, it felt so real. Walking in this office, I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen to me. I sat down and he started to ask me questions and I started to ease up but I still felt like something horrible was about to happen. And then...well, he told me that they weren't hiring but he said that he'd make an exception and then I just...blanked out for a moment. An exception? What kind of exception? What kind of nasty, dirty favor is asking of me? I wasn't able to breathe a second ago but I can breathe now. I take a new found deep breath and climb out of my imaginative mind. I look down at my waist to find that his hands are not at all on it. I touch my tank top and find that the straps are still perfectly intact. And him? Well, he's walking back around to the other side of his desk. "Do you want the job or not?" He asks me for the second time, the impatience more clear in his voice this time around. I'm not sure how long I blanked out. It could've been a few seconds, could've been a few minutes. But I know that the first time I heard him ask me if I wanted the job or not, I thought of one possible way this could go.

He could put his hand on my waist and coax me into having sex with him. He could take off my tank top and kiss me. He could take my hair out of the bun it's in, lie me down on his desk and go down on me, just like I imagined. And also like I imagined, he could be totally satisfied after going down on me. He could give me the job, tell me that I start in a few days, send me on my way. And I could walk off in search of the house that I can now afford, since I've got a job. I could go back to hating myself as much as I did in Chamberlain and I could start my new life in my new city off a pathetic mess. I could tell him that I want the job, but at what expense? At the expense of selling my body for a job? A job that part of me doesn't even want? That's one way this could go...and I think that's the worst possible scenario. "I mean, I really need the job, but..." I fold my arms across my chest and sniff. "I'll just..."

"If you want the job..." His voice trails off as he sits down in his desk chair. "I know it's short notice, but you'd have to start tomorrow. Lucille would have to train you and the only days she's available for training is tomorrow and the day after. She's going on vacation next week so that's out of the question. The training is usually three days, one day to learn the floor, one day to learn the cash register and the last day to learn the menu...you'd have to cram all your training in two days. But you said you're a quick learner, so..." He folds his hands and leans back in his chair. "Look, I'm a very busy man and if you want the job-"

"I do." I respond quickly, before he gets tired of offering me second chances. Well, that's a totally different outcome than the one I was planning for. I know I was just daydreaming or whatever, but it felt so real. The possibilities felt real, the aftermath felt real...everything about that felt real. I guess maybe I should've listened to my mother when she would say that I lie so much I believe my own lies. What I just envisioned in my head wasn't exactly a lie but it was something I made up and started to believe it so maybe to some certain extent, it was a lie. "I can start today, actually. I mean... I'll start today. I'll start whenever. I just really need a job. I'm able to start as soon as possible and yeah, I'm a fast learner so that's really not a problem about the two day training. I'll take the job." I lift my hand up and I'm pleased to find that sitting atop of my head is the lengthy bun I threw my hair up into. One part of my daydream that I wouldn't have minded was the haircut I gave myself in the bathroom of the house I fell in love with. But I think that part of my daydream was just me trying to appease the part of me deep down that has always wanted to do away with my long hair. I always wanted to cut my hair. Ever since Mark's parents told him that my hair was a rat's nest, I wanted to cut it. "I want the job."

"Splendid." He mumbles and sifts through a drawer in his desk. He produces a small stack of papers. "Sit." He slides the pile of papers across the desk at me and flings a pen on top of the pile. "The forms are self-explanatory. You'd be a part-timer until something full-time opens up and then you could bid on it. Part-time doesn't come with benefits and you won't be working any more than 30 hours a week but you're welcome to overtime and extra shifts if you wish." He starts running through things like he does this every day. He said that he doesn't handle the hiring here but he could've fooled me. I listen to him like a good little employee and start filling out the papers he threw at me. I think if I had paid closer attention to the pictures on his desk, I wouldn't have had that daydream that I had. Here, I was thinking that he was a forty-something year old single man that probably hadn't gotten any in a while. But on his desk is the proof. A picture of him in a tuxedo standing next to a woman in a white dress and a picture of him holding a toddler in his arms are looking me in the face. That's another one of my bad characteristics. I'm sort of a pathological liar and I'm just a little bit pre-judgmental. I tend to make inferences based off what I see. I wish I wasn't like that but I am and I've been that way since I was a little girl and I don't think there's any hope of me changing it now. "Do you have reliable transportation here, Jo?" I nod my head and scribble down my social security number on one of the papers I'm filling out. Is walking considered "reliable"?

Well, at least one part of my daydream came true. It looks like I have a job. Now I hope the rest of it holds true. Now that I have a job, I can call that number in the paper about the house. Maybe I'll be able to talk to the real estate agent about renting to me instead of asking me to buy the house full out. And now that I have a job, maybe I can put more than $500 down. I might be able to put down $600. That leaves me $200 to work with and I think I can manage that. "...How much will I be making?" I sign my name on a line and flip to the next page. I never had a job before so I wasn't exactly prepared for all this paperwork. I've done student teaching and observations, but I never got paid to student teach and observe. Being married to Mark, I didn't really need to have a job. He paid for everything. I had always planned on getting one because I didn't exactly want to mooch off his money for the rest of my life but it never happened. I never applied for a job, I never got hired anywhere as a teacher so I'm kind of new to this whole process. "Will I just be relying solely on tip money? Or will I have a steady paycheck as well? I'll be a waitress...right?"

"There are three things you could do while working here. You could just wait tables...which is where we'll start you out until you're proficient with running the floors and busing the tables. You'll collect tips from the tables you wait and only from the tables you wait. You could work behind the bar and be a cocktail waitress, which means you'll make whatever the drinks you make cost and whatever the customers tip you. And you can do both. You can work the bar and work the floor. You'll be making $2.87 an hour, plus tips." He's still rummaging through his desk for something else. "You might want to ask Lucille how much she brings home in tips though."

"Alright." I finish signing all the documents in the packet he gave to me and I hand it back to him, along with his pen. $2.87 an hour isn't going to be enough for me. I'm going to have to see about getting another part-time job in addition to this one. There's no way three bucks an hour is going to be enough for me to live on. I'll need to pay my rent with that, buy food, keep up with repairs. Eventually, I would like to invest in getting a car so I don't have to walk to work for the rest of my life, so I'll have to pay the car note, insurance, put gas in it. I need another job. Maybe Lucille will know where I can find like...a caseworker or something. Growing up being raised by a single mother, I'm no stranger to welfare. I know what public assistance is and my mom always told me that she never wanted me to have to live my life on welfare like she did. She always wanted better for me than that. But I need help and until a teaching position opens up around here, the only way I think I'll be able to survive on my own is if I find a welfare office and apply for assistance. If I could just get some help buying groceries and maybe paying my rent, I should be okay. I'll ask around for directions to the local welfare office. "Am I finished?"

"Yeah, you can go now, Jo." He flips through the papers quickly, making sure I filled everything out correctly I assume. "I know you said you would, but I'm not going to have you start today. I have to contact the manager and let him know that I did a hire in his place today, I have to let Lucille know that she's in charge of training you...there's a whole slew of things I have to do before I let you start. So you can go ahead and go for today. Come back tomorrow, ready to work around...3:00. I'll have her train you for the evening shift." He stands up and holds his hand out for me to shake it. "Congratulations." He couldn't sound more unenthusiastic, but I can't shake the feeling that I owe this man an apology. For a moment there, I thought horrible things about him. I thought that he'd actually make me trade sexual favors for a job. I feel like I owe him an apology but I'm not going to apologize. If I apologize, that would mean that I actually have to tell him what I thought he might do and without a doubt, he'd be offended that I even thought of him in such a horrible way. I wouldn't blame him for being offended.

"Thank you so much." I take his hand in mine and shake it firmly. "I'll be here tomorrow, I swear. I won't be late, I'll be early. I...I can't thank you enough, sir. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much you've helped me out." I let his hand go. "So...tomorrow, at 3:00?" He nods his head at me. "Thank you."

"No problem. It was a pleasure meeting you, Jo." He picks up my papers and ignores me, which probably means that I'm free to go. I hook my thumbs through the belt loops on my jeans and walk out of his office. Once I'm out of earshot and out of his sight, I silently celebrate by jumping up and down for a second. I got a job! My first day here in Florida and I've got a job! It's not a teaching job and it's not exactly what I thought I'd be doing but it's a job! It's already better than Chamberlain. I actually have a job here, I can make my own living, I'm not depending on anyone...I HAVE A JOB! I wipe the over-exaggerated smile off my face and push open the double doors that lead me out into the restaurant again. Mrs. Robinson is gonna be so proud of me once I tell her that I've already got a job. She'll be so happy and so proud of me and I can already hear her telling me "I told you moving was the right move for you." My mom would probably be proud of me too but I'm not telling her yet. I don't want to tell her anything about this move until I have a job and a house. If I tell her about it now, she'll worry herself sick about me being down in Florida with no house. I just need a house before I tell my mom. That's all.

"How'd it go back there, sweetie?" Lucille stops wiping off the bar counter just to look up and talk to me. "He hire you?"

"Mhm." The smile creeps across my face once again as I nod my head. "I start tomorrow at 3:00. I think you're training me. I'll only have two days to learn it but I can do it. I'm a fast learner." I open up the gate that leads back behind the bar counter. I walk back to where I left my duffle at. I pick up my duffle and put two dollars on the bar counter to cover the Pepsi I chugged down before my impromptu interview. I was hungry before I went back there but I'm way too excited to eat now.

"That's great, sweetie. I'm excited to work with you. If you need anything, just lemme know." She winks at me and starts washing the counter off again. I sling my duffle over my shoulder and pick up the newspaper ad that I saw the house in. Now that I've got a job, all I need is a house. A house and maybe some help. She said if I needed anything I could ask... I stick around the counter while washes it off, trying to think of a way to ask her this without sounding completely pathetic. I suppose there's no way to ask for directions to the local welfare office without sounding pathetic though.

"Actually..." I take a deep breath. "Do you know where I could find...like...a welfare office? Somewhere that I could like...apply for...you know...food stamps and stuff?" It's safe to say that I'm officially embarrassed, but I need help. There's no way I'm going to be able to afford to do everything I need to do without a little help. And it's only temporary. I swear I won't be living on welfare for forever. It's only until I get on my feet and find a teaching job. And when I get a car, I can expand my horizons. Maybe I could find a teaching job in Pensacola or something. A bigger city would mean more job opportunities, right? But for right now, I need to stay local since I don't have a car. Lucille just looks at me like she's trying to figure out what to say and my cheeks flush. I'm so humiliated. "I just moved here." I shrug my shoulders. "This is really the only job I could find...and it's hardly enough. I don't even have a house yet. I'm gonna need all the help I can get." I look down at the floor.

"I'm not judging." She shakes her head slowly. "I'm just trying to figure out what a pretty little girl like you is doing in a place like this. You're all alone, aren't you?" I nod my head and still look at the ground. I run the heel of my shoe back and forth over a pebble on the floor to avoid making eye contact. "...There's a social office on the outskirts of town, towards Murraysville. A bus runs towards it every morning around 11:00. Anything else?" I shake my head. "Do you have a home? A place to live?"

"No, but...there's this ad..." I open up the paper to show it to her. "They said they'll accept the best offer so the best I can do is place an offer, right? I can't really buy a house but I can make payments now that I've got a job. I was gonna call...and I was gonna ask the agent if they'd be willing to let me make payments on it. I'm working on it. It's at..." I look at the ad again. "811 Pembroke Drive. I just need to find out where that is..."

"If you sit down and wait until I'm done with my cleanups, I'll take you there." I raise my eyebrows when she says that. Really? She'll drive me there? Oh thank god. Lord knows I didn't feel like walking again. I would've, but I'm glad I don't have to. I didn't want to but I would've if there was no other way. "811 Pembroke Drive...I think that's next to the old bike repair shop. It's a pretty beat down house but it's livable. I ride past it everyday on my way here. It is pretty rough around the edges, which is probably why they're accepting the best offer. He wouldn't get much for the house otherwise." I sit back down at the bar stool while I wait for her. I think I might've found my first friend here in Florida too. "You should call and have McKinley meet you there sometime today. Maybe the deal will go through and you'll have somewhere safe to sleep tonight." She sounds pretty optimistic, which in turn makes me optimistic as well. Lucille seems like she has the kind of energy that rubs off on people.

"Okay." I take my phone out of my pocket and start dialing the number on the ad.

X X X

"So you're looking to rent to own? And you have a security deposit right now?" He puts a manila folder down on the kitchen counter and opens it up. "Are you looking to sign the contract tonight? If so, I can hand you the keys tonight and you can start moving in as soon as you like." He pulls three sheets of paper out of the folder and sits them down on the counter next to the folder he just opened. Lucille was right. All I had to do was tell him that I'd take the place as it is right now and he was happy. I think he's happy to have the place off his hands and he wasn't lying when he said that he'd take the best offer. I had to haggle him on the price a little bit but he was pretty compliant. He agreed to rent the place to me as long as I take care of any repairs that might be needed. Essentially, I'm making payments to work towards paying the house off. I am renting it technically but when I pay it off, it'll be my house and my house only. He's going to charge me $175 a month to live here. I'll have to pay my own electricity bill, my own water bill and my own gas bill. By charging me $175 a month, I should be able to pay the house off in 12 years. He sits a pen down next to the papers. I feel like I've spent the entire day today signing my life away. Hopefully this is the last document I'll be signing for a while though.

I click the ballpoint pen open and start signing my name in every required space. "Yes, I'm looking to rent to own. I will take care of everything if something goes wrong and yes, I have a security deposit. I can put down...maybe $500?" I sign the first part of the contract and hand it to him. "How much are you looking for?" I ask him. The house isn't exactly like the place I saw in my daydream. On the outside, it's a lot nicer than it was in my daydream. It's a wooden house, painted a nice light blue color. The paint is chipping and the wooden steps are a bit crooked but it's nothing that can't be fixed with a little time and effort. The windows are just plain glass and they open one way. Unlike in my daydream, the windows have no shutters on the outside. It's noticeable that the place is pretty old from the outside because the wooden foundation is a little bit chippy. Like in my daydream, the house does sit in the back, away from the street which is good for me. In my yard, the grass is growing wild and unruly like it hasn't been cut in years. My front porch is painted white and it's pretty big and spacious. If I get enough money, I think I'm gonna put chairs out there. My front door is a little bit old too. It's wooden like the entire house is and the screen needs to be replaced but it's fine. Again, unlike my daydream, the house is entirely carpeted except for the bathroom and kitchen. The carpet is the same in every room; light brown and fluffy with a little bit of stains here and there. The place does come with a stove, a fridge, running water and working electricity, like my daydream had; but there's no furniture. It's perfect for me though. It needs some fixing up but it's a house and it's mine and it's some place for me to sleep. I finish signing all the papers and hand them to him.

"I'm only asking for a $350 security deposit." Also unlike my daydream, it's actually agent McKinley doing the paperwork with me. He's older, a stout little man with wispy gray hair and round glasses. He gathers the papers I just signed up and puts them back in the folder. I reach in my back pocket and grab my sock. I count out $350 even and hand it to him. He licks his finger and recounts the money I handed to him. He situates the money in the folder along with the paperwork and reaches in his back pocket. "I'll call you if anything doesn't match up. And you call me if you have any questions." He hands me the key to my house and when he does, I feel this overwhelming sense of accomplishment wash over me. "I'll be seeing you. Nice doing business with you, Miss Wilson." He nods his head once and picks up the folder off the counter.

"Thank you so much, Mr. McKinley. I appreciate this." I like how he said that it was nice "doing business" with me because in a sense, that's exactly what it was. When I first walked in here, I had a plan of how I wanted everything to go. Since I had that daydream earlier, I was expecting to walk into a house that wasn't up to par, but livable if I took the time. I was expecting to have a house that I could make payments on and that's how I wanted this whole ordeal to go, as planned according to my daydream. When I started talking to him, initially he wanted me to buy the house outright for $12,000. I told him that I couldn't do that, but I offered to make payment arrangements with him. He agreed, but he set the payments at $330 a month. I told him that I couldn't afford that and I started to walk out but before I could get a chance to, he called me back and said we could negotiate. We talked the payments down to $175 a month as long as I agreed to handle all repairs and utilities. It was a fair deal so now, this house is officially my house. Now that I think about it, he must've really wanted to get rid of this house to haggle the price down with me like that.

Mr. McKinley sees himself out of the front door and before I know it, I'm alone in my new house. Okay, so maybe things didn't go as planned according to my daydream. Like for one, I have a nicer house than the house I imagined in my daydream, but I have no furniture. The payments are a little more than they were in my daydream but again, it's a nicer house. I actually think things went better than my daydream today, because I didn't have to do anything horrible to get a job, for the most important part. And secondly, I ended up with a nicer house and a closer start date for my job. I wish I could call Mrs. Robinson and let her know how my first day went, but it'll be around 10:30 in Massachusetts right now and she goes to sleep around this time. The best thing about me having a job and a house now is that I can finally tell my mom that I moved to Florida. I look around my new kitchen and inhale the scent of my new house. It's a musty smell, like the place hasn't been cleaned or properly aired out in a long time but I might as well get used to it because it's the smell of home now.

I pick up my duffle bag and drag it through my kitchen, through my living room and through a door, to my bedroom. I was thrilled when I saw that just like in my daydream, this house is all on one floor. I don't have to inconvenience myself with steps. I flick on the light in my new bedroom and look around again. There's one window in the entire room. The carpet looks clean for the most part. The room isn't very big but it doesn't need to be for me. I'm just one person. I take my house key and walk back to my kitchen. I shut and lock up my house for the night and turn off my kitchen light. I'm really tired and I have to work tomorrow so I'd better take a shower and go to bed. Granted, I don't have to work until 3:00 tomorrow afternoon, but I want to get up early and do some cleaning and unpacking before I go. Since he only took $350, that leaves me with a decent amount of money to maybe buy myself pots and pans so I can cook for myself and I can probably put a hundred dollars worth of groceries in my fridge. I can't afford to furnish the place just yet but I think that's okay. There's nothing wrong with sleeping on the floor for a little while.

I unzip my duffle and pull out the five blankets I packed. I lie the softest one down on the floor first, then pad it with the other three soft ones. I put down my pillow and top the makeshift bed off with my favorite snowflake blanket. It's about as makeshift as it gets but it's a bed...I'll sleep fine. I start to undress myself so I can go take a shower. I wanted to stay true to my daydream by giving myself a haircut tonight because I really do want a new look for the new me, but I'm entirely too exhausted to do anything but shower, eat a bag of chips and go to bed. It's been some first day. I fold my dirty clothes up and place them neatly in a pile in a corner of my bedroom. I grab one of the containers of body soap I packed, a towel and a wash cloth from my duffle and take them into my very small bathroom. Okay, so my next endeavor is getting myself a bedroom set. After I buy pots, pans, cups, plates, bowls, forks, spoons and knives, I want to get myself a bed and maybe a dresser and eventually, a cheap TV. I think kitchen stuff is the most important right now because I have food but nothing to cook it with. I think my first day here was a success. Tiresome, but successful.

Maybe I can do this on my own. I didn't think I could, but maybe I can. My first day here and I've got a job and a house. I arrived in Florida around 3:00 in the afternoon and by 6:00, I had a job and by 9:30 at night, I had a house. My first day here and I've got a house and a job. I can do this. It won't be easy for me but it's already better than Chamberlain and I moved down here to find something better than Chamberlain had to offer. I can do this by myself. I really, really can.

At least I hope I can.


Alex's Point of View.

I think it's going to rain today. I can tell as soon as I get out the car to go in my dad's house and get Lyla that it's going to thunderstorm, which is weird because when I got in the car as I was leaving work, the sky was clear in Pensacola. But as soon as I got into Millerton, the sky was overcast and the air got cool and the smell of rain is lingering in the air. I lock my car doors, even though I'll only be in here for a few minutes and jog up the steps to get to his front door. I knock twice and open the door. He always leaves the door open for me when he knows I'm coming to get Lyla so the fact that she door is open lets me know that he's awake and he's expecting me. I walk right through the door. The kitchen light is on so I walk towards the back. My dad is sitting at his kitchen table staring a cup of black coffee down and smoking a cigarette. For a split second, I think about yelling at him for smoking while my daughter is in the house but I'm exhausted and I don't feel like having this argument with him while I'm tired. I just wish he'd respect my wishes and stop smoking around my kid. "Hey pop." I mumble and rest against the door frame. I'm so tired. He blows out a puff of smoke and I wave it away. "How'd she do last night?"

"Fine." He snuffs the flame out on his cigarette and stands up. "She woke up crying last night around...2:00. I fixed her a bowl of cereal when she got here last night and we watched cartoons until she fell asleep. She was out by about...11:30, maybe 12. She woke up crying for you, actually. She said she wanted you and it took me a little while before I got to calm her down. She went back to sleep and she's been asleep ever since. I didn't have to change her during the night. She wasn't wet or anything. She did good." He takes her backpack that I packed for her off the back of one of the chairs and hands it to me. "She's upstairs in the guest bed...you want me to go get her?"

"Nah, I got her." I put the backpack on the door handle and climb up his stairs. Hearing that she cried for me in the middle of the night last night hurts. It makes me wish I was there for her but of course, I wasn't. As soon as my daughter and I start to bond, I had to leave her and now I find out she woke up asking for me. If I wasn't working the graveyard shift I would've been there. She sleeps in the bed next to me every night so if she would've started crying, I would've woken up too and she wouldn't have had to miss me. I open the door to the guest bedroom and sure enough, there she is. She's buried in a sea of covers and her head is laying on a pillow. Her mouth is gaped wide open and her pacifier is on the pillow next to her mouth so I'm thinking that it fell out while she was sleeping. Her left hand is underneath her chin and her right one is cradling a multicolored stuffed lion against her body. If I listen close enough, I can hear her breathing and it's kind of like she's snoring but Lyla doesn't snore so I'm thinking she's coming down with something. That might be why she was crying when she woke up last night. She might've been crying because she's not feeling well. "Lyla..." I pull the covers off of her and rub her back. Her eyelids flutter open and she looks dead at me but sighs and closes them again. "Hey sweetness..." I pull the covers all the way off her and pick her up. She whines like she's in the beginning stage of crying. "No, no tears...it's me." I put my arm under her butt to support her and let her lie back down on my shoulder. She starts flat out crying. "Shhh...no, come on...no tears." I bend back down to the bed and grab her lion. "Look, here's Lionel...I got Lionel for you." I give her the lion. "You ready to go home?" She rests her forehead against my neck and I feel how hot she is. "Yeah, you don't feel good..."

I carry her downstairs and grab her bag off the door handle where I left it. Like I said before, sometimes I forget that Lyla actually is a baby because she's so high level and smart but when she cries, I can still hear the baby in her cry. When we get home, I'll give her some orange juice and fever reducer to take her fever away. If she's not better by tomorrow morning, I'm calling off work. I work tomorrow afternoon from 3-11 but if she's not better by about 12:00 noon, there's no way in hell I'm going to leave her sick with my dad. "She's crying again?" My dad comments when I bring her downstairs. Lyla is lying on my shoulder, wailing and jabbering about something inaudible. I can usually tell what her baby babble means but right now, all I'm getting out of her is "Ehhhme...nah nah." I don't know what that could possibly mean. She could be asking for a banana or she could be saying "night night". My dad rushes over to us and puts his hand on her back. "What's the matter, honey?" He strokes her hair downward. "She's been crying like this all night, Alex." He rubs her arm. "Maybe you should leave her here instead of dragging her out and throwing her in the backseat? She should lie down..."

I'm really trying not to flip out on my dad but I'm struggling with it right now. I'm so tired of everyone telling me what's good for my daughter. Between him and my mother, I'm starting to get annoyed with it. Okay, I might be a little clueless on what to do with her sometimes but I HATE it when they to act like they know what's best for Lyla and I don't. I wish he could get his hands off of her, stop telling me that I should do this and do that with her and let me handle it. I can handle my own kid. I just want them to stop trying to parent her. "She's fine dad...just a little sick, that's all." Respectfully, I turn Lyla away from him so he'll stop touching her back. I don't want him touching her for some reason. "I'm gonna take her home and get her some medicine. She'll be back to sleep in no time."

"Leave her here, Alex." I roll my eyes and suck my teeth. Why would I do that? I didn't see her all night. The last thing she needs is to wake up without me by her side and she'll think that I forgot all about her. She's perfectly fine going home with me. "You're all tired yourself, you worked late last night. You don't need to sit up worrying about her when you've got some sleep to catch up on yourself. And the air out there looks like it's going to rain so if she is sick, you don't need to drag her out in that. Give her here. I'll take her back upstairs and lay her down." He puts his hands around Lyla's waist to grab her off of me and that's when I just lose it.

"Dad, stop." I shove him off of her and turn Lyla away again. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of her while she's sick. I wish you and mom would stop treating me like I'm an incompetent father. I'm not stupid and you don't always know what's good for her. I'M what's good for her. She just lost her damn mother and I'm not about to make her feel like she doesn't have a father just because you and mom want to go on some sort of power trip! She's my daughter, I'm her father, what I say goes and I SAY that she's going HOME with me to lie down in MY bed with ME. If you don't quit acting like you're the parent and I'm the babysitter here, I'm done bringing her over here. I'll take her to daycare for all that. Back off. I appreciate the help but when I say step off, STEP. THE. HELL. OFF." He just stands there and looks at me with a dumbfounded look on his face. "...I work tomorrow from 3-11. If she's not feeling better by 12:00 tomorrow afternoon, I'm calling off. If she's feeling better, I'll drop her off at 2:00." I open the front door. "I'll see you later dad." I mumble that last part and close the door behind me and Lyla. I situate Lyla to lie down in the back seat of my car for the five minute ride home and get in my driver's seat.

I feel bad for yelling at him like that but enough is enough. When Jenna first passed, I understood him and my mom keeping a watchful eye on me. The death was fresh, I was a newly single dad, I was learning how to care for my daughter on my own and I actually needed the help. But it's been six months and I'm fine now. They can both back off now. I had to yell at my mom too. She lives down in Murraysville, but she was up my house every day telling me how I needed to keep up with Lyla's hair, make sure she had clean clothes, make sure she was eating right, make sure I knew how to bathe a little girl properly...all this obvious stuff. And what really threw me over the edge is the one day , Lyla was sitting at the kitchen table eating her usual french fries and Mountain Dew. Now, I know that french fries and Mountain Dew isn't really the ideal nutritious breakfast for a toddler but at the time, Lyla wouldn't eat ANYTHING unless it was french fries, lasagna or Mountain Dew. So in an effort to keep my child from starving to death, I fed her fries and soda for breakfast. Well, my mom took the soda away and Lyla threw a fit. She replaced the soda with apple juice and Lyla threw the sippy cup on the floor and cried because she didn't want it. I told my mom to stop being a bitch about the soda and of course, Lyla repeated after me and called my mom a bitch. She didn't know any better. She was just repeating what she heard me say. My mom knew that, but she still smacked my daughter in the mouth for saying it and I flipped out on her. I mean, I really let my mom have it. Long story short, that's why my mom doesn't come around much anymore.

I do feel bad when I yell at my parents that way but it's the only way they ever take me seriously as a father. I know I'm not a good dad right now but I could be if they would just step off and let me do this on my own. I'm never gonna be a good dad if they don't let me be one. I park the car in the driveway and get Lyla out of the back seat. I carry her into the house and like I knew she would, she fell asleep on the car ride home and she's still fast asleep. "Lyla..." I shut the front door behind the two of us and lock it up. I go straight to the kitchen. "Lyla, wake up...wake up." I rub her back and she lifts her head. As soon as she's awake, the whining starts again. "I know honey, I know..." Did I just call her "honey"? I never call her that. It like...slid out and it felt natural. I don't know what just happened there. "Will you take medicine for daddy? And drink some juice? Then we can go to sleep, just me and you..." She nods her head and I notice that she's pulling on her left ear. She's holding it as if it hurts and pulling on it like it's itching. "...Let daddy take a look in there." I put her down on the counter. She puts her head down like she can't hold it up and starts crying. "I'm sorry...let me look though." I push her hair away from her ear and tilt her head downward so I can look in her ear canal. Just like I suspected, it looks infected. I can't see real good without my light and my scope but it looks like it's full of pus around the edges and it looks wet inside the canal. Probably happened when we were at the beach. She probably got some water down in there that didn't drain well and it got infected.

"Neh neh meh." She holds onto the ear that's bothering her and looks at me with tears streaming down her cheeks. She holds her arms out for me. "Dada?"

"Hold on." I go to the cupboard and get her sippy cup. I'll get her some orange juice and I'll give her some Benadryl to put her to sleep. I'll write her a script for Ammoxicillin and go fill it later. I fill the cup up with orange juice and squeeze some liquid Benadryl up with the dropper I keep in the drawer next to the sink. Now that I think about it, how dare my dad try and tell me that he'd keep Lyla while she's sick. What nerve he has. I'm a frickin' Pediatrician for crying out loud. I do this for a living. "Here honey." I shove the dropper in her mouth and like a good girl, she sucks it out of the dropper while I squeeze it. "There we go..." I put the dropper in the sink and hand her the cup. "Now we can go to sleep." I pick her up and she lies her head down on my shoulder.

I don't want to jinx it, but I think I'm starting to get the hang of this single dad thing.