Chapter One

The toilet stank so much that I felt like gagging. The stench from the toilet penetrated through the nose mask, and I couldn’t keep it anymore. I just knew one thing: I hated my job, but I had to do it for my children.

I took up the scrubbing brush and scoured the interior toilet that had been marred with poop, after that, I took my plunger and plunged it all in. I rolled my eyes countless times as I did it, but I couldn’t do more than that. I finally finished up and flushed it all in, satisfied with the outcome of the toilet, of the whiteness of it. 

Almost done, I scrubbed the floor of the toilet and walked out, leaving the toilet with a great scent of lavender.

I couldn’t wait to get off work. I wanted to see my children.

As I placed the mop to dry and kept the bucket where other mop buckets were being kept, I took off the disposable gloves and tossed them in the toilet, never to be used again. 

Sometimes I wondered if my life was actually like these gloves: I’d been used and tossed into a trashcan like this.

No, I’d told myself not to think about this again. I had decided to start over.

I took off the hairnet I wore to protect my auburn hair, and placed it in my locker, to be used tomorrow when I come to this dreadful place again. There was no use complaining, I needed to go grab my paycheck.

After changing into my normal T-shirt and jeans, and hurriedly packing my hair into a rough ponytail, I rubbed my hands together and walked out to take my pay. I needed the money for countless bills.

Another worker passed by and rolled her eyes at me. On her name tag, I saw her name was Halsey, and I wondered if I had ever done anything to Halsey. Ever since I got a job as a cleaner here, I grabbed zero friends and a bazillion enemies. Except for Raphael who was always pesky about dating me, but I always turned him down, remembering my past relationship with Abien. I bet other workers laughed at him for seeing me as a person of interest.

I sighed. Nothing of this matters.

I got to the door of the manager and rubbed my sweaty hands on my jeans because I was as nervous as ever. I slowly knocked on the wooden door, waiting for the manager to let me in.

“Come in,” I heard.

I released a long sigh as I turned the orb and walked in. His office was the only place that gave me the jitters. I just needed my paycheck to get the hell out of here. His table was empty with a little paperwork scattered everywhere. I wondered if he even had a family.

“Sit down, Yolian.” He dragged my name in a long drawl, and I got it: my name was very unusual.

I grabbed the leather chair opposite him and waited for him to draw out my pay. So far, my pay should be seventy dollars and I hoped he would help tip me. 

He dragged out a long book from a cabinet and filed for my name. I wondered why this restaurant didn't just use a computer. They’re so old school.

“You’re here for your paycheck?” his voice was raspy and hard.

I cleared my throat, wishing it wouldn't come out shaky. “Yes, sir.”

He nodded once, his eyes still traveling through the big book. “So, your pay should be fifty-four dollars.” He said, still peering at the book, then finally looking up at me.

I bit the bottom of my lips. I thought it was seventy. I voiced it out. “Mr. Talco, I thought it was ten dollars per hour. Isn’t it supposed to be seventy dollars?”

He gave out a long, belly laugh. “Seventy dollars? Are you kidding me, Yolian? You work as a cleaner here, not as a manager. Get that straight.” Then he laughed loudly again.

My eyes burned with tears, but I pushed them back. With a shaky voice, I replied. “Okay, Mr. Talco.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “Good.”

He pulled out a couple of bucks from another drawer and arranged them together. He fastened the remaining ones and put them back in the drawer, then he placed them before me. “Fifty-five dollars. I’m being so generous today.”

I took out my sweaty hands to take it from him, but it seemed like his grip was so tight on it. “Not so fast, babe.”

My eyebrow scrunched in confusion. Babe? “What is it, Mr. Talco?”

He gave off a deadly smirk. To be honest, Mr. Talco could pass for a handsome man, but he should be well into his thirties. Maybe in his forties, even. I could see that the middle of his hair was getting bald already. “I can help you with your financial crisis, you know.”

 I was still puzzled, so I let him go on.

“You can write down your location and I can come pick you up. Just the two of us, you know, we can go clubbing, and you know the rest. You’ve got nice boobs.” He winked which thawed the inside of me.

I wanted to spit in his face, but he’d probably like it. I placed my hand where the money was and snatched it from him. I was not an object to be used. Again.

“I’m okay with the fifty-four dollars. Maybe you can just take back your one dollar. I don’t even need it.” With this, I walked out of his office, hating the moment I spent in his office. I counted the money again and again before slipping it into my purse.

I walked out to the parking lot to search for my third-hand car which I got from an old friend. The car had a lot of faults: no AC, a low fuel tank, and it stopped every forty miles, but at least, I have a car.

Once I’m belted, I checked the time: two-thirty. Dang! I’ve got to be in the triplets' school by now. I swerved out of the restaurant and drove toward the school, with the thought of Mr. Talco’s advances far from my mind. I had a lot of things to worry about, things deeper than Mr. Talco. My car began to cough up, and I hoped I would get to school before it stopped.

I got to the school and I parked a bit far from the school’s parking lot. My car couldn’t be matched with the rest of the cars in this school, so I preferred to separate it from the rest. The school was already becoming empty and I prepared my ears for their complaint. I always come late.

I ran out of the car and walked down to the school. I saw the three of them sitting on the stairs of the school, looking as distraught as ever. I was sad I didn’t give them the things I should give as a mother. My ten-year-old kids looked up and saw me with happiness in their eyes, which made me smile. I had sworn that I’ll protect them even till my last breath. I ran and hugged all three of them.

“Mom, we were so worried you wouldn’t pick us up,” Tarasa said, her hands tightly clasped around me.

My hands were wrapped around them, never to let go. I ruffled Fabien’s hair as I saw his green eyes—so like his father’s—peering down at me. He gave me a smile that warmed my heart.

I lived for these three.

After a moment of reunion, they all shoved themselves to the back of my car while I entered the driver’s seat and zoomed out of school. I was trying to concentrate on the road, but their whines reached my eyes and didn't go out.

“Mom, the car is so hot,” Jos complains.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I closed it back, wishing I could do more for these innocent ten year olds, rather than a car that would probably stop in a matter of minutes.

Thankfully, the car didn’t stop till we got home. I packed it in our small garage—where my car could hardly fit in, and took the tired triplet home. I was thinking of hiring another babysitter to help watch them while I scouted for another job, but I couldn’t think of another person watching after these children I brought to life.

The air that emanated from the house was very dry. With no air conditioner and just two windows to spare in the living room, I tried to make the best out of it. That was all my money could get. I opened the window wide, allowing the cool summer breeze to creep into the house, giving it a bit of a flowery smell.

The triplets dropped their bags and ran to their room while I was left in the kitchen, thinking of what to fix up for them. I opened the fridge and I could see a pack of leftover pizza, they would frown at it, but we had no other choice. There was a can of milk, too, but who takes milk in the afternoon?

I took out the pizza and shoved it into the microwave that the old occupant of this house left behind. Maybe the person thought it was bad, but I found it working perfectly. While I watched it cook, I prayed it wouldn't taste as bad.

I took out a plate that was chipped at the end and dished it all out for three of them. Having three children with a low-paying job, I found it hard to meet up with what I needed to provide. I placed the food on the table, waiting for them to come eat. 

Fabien padded down first, tracing the smell of the food. He turned and asked me, “is that pizza?”

I saw the resignation on his face, and it hurt me. “Yes, it is. That’s all we have.” He frowned and stumped to the table, but he couldn’t complain further: his stomach was rumbling.

Tarasa slowly walked down, digging into the food, then trying not to spit the one she had chewed, her face plastered in a grimace. “Mom, this tastes too bad. Why do we have to eat pizza all the time?”

I couldn’t break down in front of my children. “Because that’s all we have.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by Jos’s heavy steps. I could hear his voice already. “Don’t tell me that we are going to eat pizza again, it tastes so horrible in my mouth. Mom. ”

I gave him a pleading look. I also felt bad that we had to eat this pepperoni pizza again. “That’s all we have, Jos.”

His eyebrows creased in sadness; his mouth, pouting. “But… but Ethan in my class eats chicken and stakes. They even eat mashed potatoes and broccoli. What’s even a broccoli?” How does it taste?”

I sighed. A bitter one. “A broccoli is a vegetable. You’ve probably had it before.”

“But I don’t know what it is.” He said, defiant.

I looked at Tarassa and Fabien who had gone deep into their food with little or no complaint, but Jos was the one fighting, just like his father. I saw Abien in him. If that made sense.

“Jos, can you eat this pizza, or else it’ll get cold and you’ll go to bed hungry.”

With a resigned look, he rolled his eyes and sat in his chair, eating his rubbery pizza.

I watched them as they all ate, mouths moving like robots because they couldn’t savor the food. I turned my back against them and let a tear slip.

I’d have to do better for them.