She dipped her mouth into the bitterness of the chocolate which somehow always lightened up her veins as she felt her sleepiness fading away. The way the bitterness cut her taste buds with the marshmallows almost ripening her sweet tooth, boy did she love her morning drinks. It was a sleepy Sunday morning, with hardly any people in her little diner; When a family entered, the dad talking on the phone with a young girl about his pinky dragging her lace shoes while the mother balanced her big purse and a little baby boy on the girdle of her hip.
Putting on her famous smile to welcome her guests she took their order, when the dad got up and went out talking on the phone, pacing steadily for what seemed to be a heated conversation. Not meaning to intrude, she averted her eyes and took the order while the mother gave her a peevish smile until she looked down at her hips and her smile faltered.
"Nobody tells you about the hardships. Let me tell you, it's a tremendous, thankless, never ending task."
Surprised at this customers outburst, she quickly fled the scene and after placing the order to the kitchen staff, she picked up her broom and starting tidying up the place. The mother's wounded and pitiful looks, made her skin crawl and was thankful for when the toddler started to brawl his eyes out to captivate his mother wavering attention. Taking advantage of this, she ran to the broom closet to get out her coat to cover up, in hopes that now her customer won't be looking at her, with her pitiful woes. She felt almost shameful, as if she had ugly scars to paint over on her body. At war with herself, she just somehow felt drained out and suddenly even her bitter drink wasn't enough to hold her up. She felt as if the only think keeping her from losing it was the only thing that wasn't even there in the world, just a figment of what she thought it would be.This was slowly killing her, knowing the uncertainty of this, the future judging preying eyes of her fellow humans; the fact that she had no male advocate in her life at the age of 45, if she would ever survive this, who would look after her? Closing her eyes she whispered to herself "Dammit, get your shit together."
By the time she got out, the whole family had finished their food and had left a tip for her lacking service. Annoyed for this was clearly pity money, she angrily threw it in the donation jar. Her ego severely wounded.
"You gotta keep what you get honey, or you won't have any money to feed yourself let alone two mouths!" her boss gently reprimanded her, as he held out her 10 dollar tip.
She knew instantly he was right and swallowing her ego, she clutched her tip in one hand, while the other hand carefully cupped her swollen stomach when she felt the first kick of its tiny legs. Suddenly, just for a moment, though fleeting, she felt happy, truly happy, and that maybe, just maybe this child will be her saving grace.
