I liked to go for runs in the mornings when I was able to convince myself to get up early enough, and if the weather allowed it.

It helped me clear my head and spend some time with myself and my thoughts without the chaotic sounds that I had to deal with in my apartment building. Sometimes, I would even think of some interesting song ideas on my runs as I took inspiration from the people I passed on the sidewalks or saw through windows.

Even in the fall like it was, I would still go for a run when it wasn't raining because I didn't mind the cold so much. If anything, it encouraged me to run for longer periods of time to keep my body warm.

Physically, I liked to believe that my running a few miles almost every day helped me stay in shape. Granted, I rarely paid attention to the garbage that I put into my body, so I was sure that the running was just working off the greasy food rather than improving anything. I still struggled to climb just two sets of stairs in my building and started to cramp after two miles.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed it.

Once I got back to my apartment, I peeled off my sweaty hoodie, sports bra, and leggings to take a shower before I had to go to work.

The Dixie Diner looked like it was pulled straight out of the fifties with black and white checkered floors, red vinyl booths, and a hot pink LED sign that read 'diner' hanging on the white tiled wall. It looked like a cute place to spend time, but when you looked closer and spent enough time there, it became repulsive.

The floors were always dirty, the booths were tearing to reveal the cotton layer underneath, the silver rimmed white tables were somehow always sticky, the pie in the display on the counter was fake, and the jukebox was broken. It was a grimy restaurant, but we did serve the best burgers in the city. At least, that's what the menu said.

I worked at the diner for almost a year, and the worst part about working there was the uniform. A tacky light blue dress with white cuffs on the short sleeves and collar. I wore a sweater over top of the dress to keep me warm as I left my house to make my way to my shift.

My diner work had been decreasing lately since I was making more money from my music, but I couldn't afford to quit completely yet. Part of the reason that I worked so hard with my music was so that I could stop working at the diner as quickly as possible.

My clean white sneakers carried me through the open restaurant to the back where I had to clock in before getting to work. There were two other waiters on the shift with me that were catering to their respective tables, but there was nobody in my section. I opted to use my time to clean off the unused tables.

It was a boring shift, but that wasn't surprising because every shift at the diner was boring. I hated how my white sneakers stuck to the floor every time I stepped and the nagging voice of my manager as she reminded me that my sweater didn't adhere to the uniform dress code. Despite the fact that a ketchup bottle malfunctioned and sprayed a red stain all over my white uniform sweater a few months ago and she hasn't ordered me a new one yet, so I had to work my shift in blasting air conditioning with only the flimsy short sleeved fabric of my dress.

"Good afternoon, Maren," I was greeted about halfway through my shift by my favorite customer as he entered the restaurant and started to take off his jacket.

"Hi, Gabe," I smiled at him as he took a seat at his favorite table by the window. "How are you doing today?"

"Oh, I'm swell," he responded with a jolly grin. Gabe was always so happy-go-lucky and reminded me of my dad in a lot of ways. "How's the chili today?"

"It's good," I assured him. The quality of the chili depended on who was working the line in the kitchen, so after having a peak into the back earlier in my shift, I had a good idea as to what the chili would taste like that day. "Can I get you a bowl?"

"And a coffee, please," he added. "I need all the energy I can get today; my ex-wife won't stop hounding me."

"Right away," I assured him as I stepped away from the table to put in his order for chili and to pour him a cup of coffee. "What's wrong with Nancy today?"

"She just put our fifteen-year-old daughter on birth control. Can you believe that?" he started to complain with a loud scoff, shaking his round balding head at me. "Ridiculous."

"Well, at least she's being cautious," I tried to reason with him, laughing lightly. I used to be confused as to why Gabe came into the restaurant so often because I never thought our food was that good. However, as time went on, I realized that he most likely didn't come for the food. He seemed lonely, and he liked having somebody to talk to. I was happy to listen to him and all of his problems, and he tipped really well. We had a mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship.

"She's fifteen," he said again. "She shouldn't need birth control for another ten years, at least."

"It's hard to let your kids grow up," I nodded at him as I brought him a set of silverware and some crackers to prepare for when his chili was ready. "What does your daughter think about it?"

"She won't talk to me about boys," Gabe told me. As I listened to him talk, I sat at the counter nearby to wrap more silverware in napkins, putting them in a bucket to use for future customers. "She thinks that I'm too protective and embarrassing."

"I think most dads are protective and embarrassing. I know mine was when I was a teenager," I assured him. "Just means you're doing something right."

When I returned to the back to retrieve Gabe's chili, one of the other waiters stands beside me and says, "Hi, Maren, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Winston," I responded to him slowly. We never really talked unless it was about work, and it was usually because he needed something, so I already felt like I knew what he was going to say to me.

"Would you be able to cover my shift on Thursday?" He got straight to the point. "My grandma just died and I have to go to her funeral."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said, even though I was sure it was a lie just to get out of work. "I can cover a morning shift, but I have plans at night."

"Plans that are more important than my grandpa's funeral?" he reiterated, looking very hurt. He was a lot taller than me, forcing me to turn my head up to look at him.

"Plans that pay my bills, so I'd say yes, it's pretty important," I assured him, taking the chili and hurrying away from him so that I could deliver Gabe's meal before it got cold. "And I thought it was your grandma's funeral?"

"They both died," he stuttered out when he realized that he messed up his lie. You'd think he'd at least rehearse his made up excuse once or twice so that it wasn't so difficult for him to keep track of his own lie, and it was almost comical how bad he was at making up a fake excuse to get out of work.

"You'll have to find somebody else," I insisted, passing him and walking back out onto the floor to serve Gabe. I wasn't really friends with any of my coworkers at the diner, mostly because the turn around rate was so bad that most people were only working there for a few months. It was hard to keep track of the new staff, so I gave up a long time ago.

By the time my shift was over, I was exhausted and eager to get back home. I had a gig lined up for the next day and wanted to nap before I spent the evening practicing the set list I had prepared.

After I climbed up to my floor step by step, I could tell that I'd need my headphones for a nap, because there was a loud baby crying his poor lungs out next door. Turning down my hallway, I also noticed the older toddler sitting in the hallway drawing on the dirty white walls beside my door.

"Desi," I called his mom's name, noticing that her apartment door was open. To stop him from doing anymore damage to the wall, I swept the two-year-old into my arms and walked through the open door. "I think you lost something."

The tired blonde girl was cradling her screaming newborn in her arms in the kitchen of her apartment, her hair in a bun with half of the strands falling out around her face. She looked at me with tired, baggy eyes, and said, "Oh my God, Dexlynn, what were you doing?"

"Just some property damage, no biggie," I responded jokingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, but she was clearly incredibly stressed with her baby and not in a joking mood. "Do you need any help?"

I didn't want to offer to help with her kids because it impeded in my plans for a nap and then practicing my music. I was so tired from work that doing even more work made me want to curl into a ball, but the tired and desperate look on her face forced me to stay. I couldn't leave her like that, and I was good with her kids. My sister had two kids before I left for Cincinnati and two more after I moved away, and I was happy to help with them when I was available, so I had some experience.

"If you could get this baby to stop crying, I'll marry you," Desi said as I shut the front door to prevent her toddler from escaping the apartment again. Putting the toddler in the living room with some toys, I joined Desi in the kitchen to gently transfer the baby from her arms to mine.

"You better get me a nice ring," I continued to joke, starting to rock the screaming baby. Maybe if I could get the baby to quiet down and go to sleep, I would be able to nap without headphones, as they weren't very comfortable to nap in. Although I was sure Desi had already checked, I looked in his diaper to make sure that it was clean and the bottle on the counter was empty.

"I'll put it on the to-do list," she said sarcastically. "It's kind of early, but I can make dinner. What do you want?"

"Surprise me," I continued rocking the baby as I made my way into the living room where Dex was playing with a stuffed animal. I always wondered what made Desi name her babies Dexlynn and Braylynn, but I didn't think that my baby names would have been any better if I had kids at her age.

Braylynn was still crying loudly, so I took my phone out of my crossbody bag and found a white noise video on YouTube. I used the blanket he was wrapped in to form a swaddle to tightly hug the baby and comfort him. Luckily, it only took a few minutes of the swaddle and white noise to calm him down and lull him into a delicate sleep.

"I can't believe you did it," Desi whispered from the kitchen as she made a dinner as quietly as possible. The smell of garlic was starting to fill the apartment and I was growing hungrier by the second. "This apartment hasn't been this quiet in... ever."

"I didn't do that much work, you wore him out and made my job easy," I assured her in a quiet voice. I wasn't sure if the two boys had the same father, or where the father(s) was. She never talked about it, and I never asked, but I hoped that they at least sent child support. I left home when I was her age and it was terrifying to be all on my own. I couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for Desi, who was alone but also had two small humans depending on her for life and fulfillment.

The baby looked soft in my arms, so gentle and fragile. It was almost scary to be holding something so helpless and dependent on me. It was hard to relax in the couch knowing that if I made one wrong move, the room would be full of loud, shrieking cries again. It felt like I was holding a very sensitive bomb.

When Desi joined me and the boys in the living room, she brought grilled cheese and broccoli for us and Dex. It seemed like a simple meal, and it always did. Desi had a talent for making simple, cheap meals taste like they came out of the kitchen of a five star restaurant.

"I'm never letting you leave, Maren," she told me in a hushed voice as I started to situate myself so that I could eat without disturbing the baby. "I'm locking you in here and keeping you forever."

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The rest of this story will start getting published on August 21st!

If you want to read the whole thing now or if you want to support me and my writing, you can buy the paper back version at https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/writerbug44. I will forever be so grateful for your support! (Cover below is what the print version looks like)