Getting By

Elle kept her head high, ignoring the teller's censorious stare. Smoothing the child's backpack purse against the counter, she focused on the rattle of coins in the sorter. The last of her change jar, if she didn't get a job soon she'd be robbing Kennedy's piggy bank. She traced the purple and black skulls under her fingers, mind wandering to the more immediate problem of a birthday present for the five year-old. 

"Two twenty-seven forty-six is your total and a dollar sixty-three in Canadian which we are unable to accept. Did you want the foreign currency and play money back or should I discard it for you, ma'am?"

Biting her tongue at the condescending tone, Elle held her hand out for the change and arcade tokens. Her lips pressed into a thin line as the woman exhibited exaggerated care in counting out the cash. She didn't blow out her breath until she sank into the driver's seat of her Cherokee. Dying for a cigarette, she tried to still the tremble of her hands by wrapping them around the steering wheel. It had been seven months, but some days it was still a bitch.

The gas station was her next stop and shot sixty dollars in the ass. Tucking back the hundred and twenty needed to round out rent and pay insurance for the month left her with less than fifty bucks for groceries and a birthday present. Numbers tumbled through her mind. Unemployed for eight months she had five weeks remaining on her extension. Rent was five hundred, insurance for the Jeep and apartment forty, twenty for the phone, with gas and groceries she was barely making it on the hundred ninety-eight a week that unemployment provided. Medical bills and a credit card her shit ex had maxed out had debt collectors hounding her at all hours. Even Kennedy was starting to ask questions. Something had to break, and soon.

Wheeling the cart through her favorite discount store, "Getting Buy," numbers still plagued her in the form of a running total. If the past eight months had taught her anything it was how to pinch a penny until it squealed. Hefting a bottle of laundry detergent into the cart made her mental calculator groan and she headed for the checkout. Rounding the corner a colorful display of summer toys caught her eye.

Slowing, she perused the offerings ranging from a dollar to three. Picking up a tub of sidewalk chalk, Elle chewed her bottom lip. A handful of inexpensive items in a recycled gift bag were hardly the fifth birthday she would have liked to give Kennedy, but she also knew her little girl would be delighted. With a nod, she added an oversized wand, half a gallon of bubbles, jump rope, a fairy coloring book, new crayons, and on impulse a mixed pack of card games for kids before heading for the checkout.

The melodious strains of Sheryl Crow's "Strong Enough" sounded from the bowels of Elle's purse as she loaded groceries into the back seat. Fumbling, she came up with her cell phone and squinted at the unfamiliar number. Indecision warred for a moment before the local prefix won out and she answered. The decidedly sexy male voice on the other end made her perk up a bit.

"...returning your call regarding the girl's bike I listed on Craigslist."

"Shit!" The word exploded from Elle's lips as the timing smacked her in the face. She had spied the ad after a month of scouring garage sales and newspapers for a used bike. The purple sixteen inch and its fifteen dollar price tag had seemed a perfect birthday present, when she had had fifteen dollars. A low chuckle on the other end of the line yanked her from thought.

"Is this a bad time?"

"You could say that. Sorry, you hit me two minutes after I walked out of the grocery store," she admitted, dumping her wallet on the seat and blowing a strand of her long, honey mane out of her face. "You wouldn't consider eight...ten dollars would you?" she amended, remembering the buck sixty-three in Canadian.

"How old is your little girl?"

"She will be five Saturday."

"Tell you what. If you pick it up, you can have it."

"Are you sure? That is very generous. I could pick it up now."

"Positive. I bought the bike for an ex-girlfriend's daughter and it is just taking up space now. I would like to see it go to someone who can get some use out of it. I won't be home for a while, but I can have the maid service set it on the porch."

Caution prickled the back of Elle's neck as she scribbled down the address, but the proximity to her best friend Cat's house and the thought of Kennedy's smile pushed it away.

Pulling up the drive fifteen minutes later, Elle admired the stylish brick home. It reminded her of Cat and Dennis's place. She wondered if Dennis's construction company had built this one as well. Spotting the purple bike on the sprawling front porch, architecture fled her thoughts. Eye on the prize she hopped out and headed up the walk. Running her hands over the like new bike, she couldn't contain a grin. The metallic flake paint and beribboned handle bars were a little girl's dream. Kennedy was going to love it and the sidewalks of Willow Cove would never be the same again. Far from religious, Elle sent up a fervent thank you.



Water flew and the high pitched squeal of little girls pierced the air around the shallow pool. Elle grinned at Cat, thankful for her friend's help chaperoning the rowdy birthday bash. With seven girls ranging from four to six, including Cat's six year-old twins, she needed an extra pair of eyes. Things had worked out well from getting the bike, to the complex manager agreeing to allow them to grill hotdogs and serve homemade cake at poolside. While it wasn't an extravagant affair, Kennedy seemed to be having the time of her life.

"You are smart to hold off on the bike until the end. Once she sees that, it is going to be all over. She will be hell on wheels like her mama," Cat teased.

"It's not bikes that are her mama's problem. It's the asshole men that ride the bikes."

"You should give the nice guys another chance."

"What? And miss out on black-eyes and bill collectors? Not a chance," Elle muttered, her dramatic eye-roll drawing a knowing laugh from her friend.

"Kevin was asking about you again the other day."

"Can you picture THAT in Kevin's pristine white condo?"

"Umm ...no," Cat confirmed watching Kennedy shove a piece of confetti cake into her mouth, crumbs littering the concrete as she ran to jump back in the pool.

"I didn't think so. Besides, last time I ran into him at your place he seemed quite disappointed when I told him daddy isn't in the picture so I have her EVERY weekend."

"Seriously?" At Elle's nod Cat winced and mentally crossed Kevin off the list.

"A man is the last thing I need. With four unemployment checks left I'm not looking for another mouth to feed. I need a job."

"You are so cynical."

"Sorry, Cinderella, but the fairytale doesn't happen for all of us."

"Why won't you let Dennis and I help?"

Picking up the frustration in her best friend's voice, Elle tried to keep her tone gentle.

"I've never turned down help, Cat, but there is a line where it becomes charity. Kennedy and I are getting by. I'm sure something will turn up. It always does."

"I'll keep my ears open," Cat mumbled, embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she turned to fuss over the refreshment table.


Giving one last wave to Cat and the girls, Elle dropped down to sit on the front steps. Kennedy's repetitive squeals of 'Look, Mommy!' had died down to flashing a cheesy, grubby-faced grin every time she whizzed past their door. The almost hundred yards of smooth sidewalk that fronted their building provided a prime course, but Elle couldn't help wonder how long her dare-devil daughter would be content with the boundaries. The kid was always pushing. Elle smirked. It was just another in the long list of questionable traits passed down from mother to daughter.

Mind drifting, she mentally flipped through the contents of her closet searching for the perfect outfit to interview at a chic women's boutique uptown. Much more a jeans and cowboy boot sort of girl, the store was just the sort of place she would never shop. They had called her for an interview, however, and as the saying went, beggars can't be choosers.

Despite her bravado with Cat, she was feeling the strain. Kennedy was smart as a whip. Her questions of late told Elle she wasn't doing as good of a job shielding her little girl as she would have liked to think. Nothing scared her more than letting Kennedy down. She was doing the best she could juggling bills, but there was never enough to go around. What next, sleeping in the living room with candles and the kerosene heater and calling it camping? Her and her brothers had only fell for that for so long before the fact that the light switches and TV wouldn't turn on dawned on them. She was no different than any other mother; she wanted something better for her kid.

A yawn split Kennedy's dirty face pulling Elle from her worries and back to motherhood. Standing, she dusted the seat of her cut-offs and headed to corral the heathen, steeling herself for the battle of bath and bedtime. Tomorrow would work itself out. Kennedy was the most important thing in her life and they were getting by one day at a time.

WC ~ 1647

© Mara McBain 06/2011

Written for:

SURVEY

What a Character! : Official WDC Contest  (E) Create a memorable character using the given prompt for huge prizes! #1679316 by Writing.Com Support

Prompt for June 2011:

Putting a character into an uncomfortable situation can highlight his or her strengths and weaknesses. Of course, each character will find different situations that make them uncomfortable so choose a situation and show the reader how the character overcomes, adapts, or buckles under the pressure of that situation.