Sighing from conflicting feelings in my brain, the clock finally struck five in the evening. I got out of the beat-up truck in my worn jeans and baggy t-shirt and headed towards the front of the daycare to get Bubble. After leaving my former workplace, I had to meet Dad at the mail office where he works and get the keys to his Pacific green '96 Ford F-150, carrying my bicycle along in the truck bed. Driving was safer for Bubble; it was the one rule of the house, so the three of us shared the truck to take him to and from daycare.

Kane was right there at the front desk outside the doors, listening to the radio.

"How's today, Kane?" I greeted the man. He was the security guard in charge of signing in and out the kids to their guardians. I didn't just know him because of Bubble Daycare; Kane had always lived around the neighborhood, so we'd all known each other long before Bubble came into this world. The same went for almost everyone in my neighborhood, but I can't speak for the rest of the town, where it's a contest for whose house is much nicer, who's got better assets, and things like that. But in my small average-class community, we had love, and it was peaceful.

"Long day," he smiled as widely as every other day, "My wife wants a certain cheese that I can't find in the whole of this place," he complained as he grabbed his phone and sent a message inside the daycare for Bubble to be sent forth.

"Can I help in any way?" I politely offered.

I'd be willingly focused and roused to go on asking about the details of this unknown cheese that's worrying Kane if it weren't for the thought of having to start a job hunt once again plaguing my mind, infusing at the same time all the emotional wreckage one can experience at the feeling of Aaron staring into my soul earlier. Did he recognize me? Was it why he instinctively protected me? Or was I in my head, dreaming like I did six years ago?

Anxious, digging my shaky hands into my pockets as I stood waiting for Bubble, Kane smiled appreciatively, saying, "No, but thank you for offering."

The door opened almost as he closed his mouth, and the caregiver emerged with Bubble, who released his small grip on her hand as he noticed me and excitedly raced over on his tiny five-year-old feet.

I scooped him up, energetically swirling us both while he giggled, for he's such a happy child. Beauty is an understatement.

"How was your day, sunshine?" I tickled him in my arms, and he laughed merrily, squirming. "Good," He coughed, given his vocals aren't very comprehensible for his age.

Laughing, Kane handed over Bubble's backpack, and I nodded appreciatingly, collecting it. Waving goodbye to the man with the hand holding the backpack and jovially racing us to the car to excite Bubble.

Dad had the toddler seat in there on the passenger seat, since it's not so safe driving in front at his age, but it was the only space in the truck; there was no backside. I easily fixed Bubble in his seat, set down his things, and circled over to the driver's side.

The boy was already occupied with my phone, scrolling through the child videos I'd downloaded for him.

Sighing in the noisy cartoon dialogue background, I palmed my face as so many emotions surged upon me at the thought of our budget. I'd made about three hundred in tips today. If I'd continued the job even on the golf course alone, I could have made even more, and at the end of summer, we'd have enough that we need. But now I need to have another plan. When I say I need a job, I really mean it. It's crucial for our household, even with dad and mom's income as they both take two jobs; it's just not enough. I can't afford not to work.

"Chicen!" Bubble said from next to me. It's his gibberish way of asking for chicken nuggets.

"Lively, why are you crying?" Bubble asked, concerned, though I thought I was quick to wipe my face before he leaned over.

"I wasn't. I have a cold," I lied, and it was enough to have him beaming sunshiny.

Stepping on the acceleration, I sped ahead, made a stop at the drive-through nearby, and got him some of those nuggets before stretching the path toward home.

Our dinner has always been with two not present, Mom and Dad, not because they wanted to be absent, but because they needed to keep their jobs. So it's usually Bubble and me. Today, what he had from the drive-through was enough to fill him up; he only had his medicines routine and ended up leaving the sandwich I made him there and slept off while watching PJ Masks on the couch. It was past nine in the evening; I needed to shower and go to bed, too.

Before picking Bubble up in my arms, his tiny hand hugging my neck and taking us down the hall, I made sure everything in the kitchen was turned off, and the doors were locked. I lay him on the twin bed next to mine in the bedroom we share, since it was a two-bedroom apartment.

Setting the air conditioner, I grab my toiletries and head to the bathroom, where I take a shower and change into pajamas, all the while unable to control the trail of thoughts my mind is following. When I lay on my bed and turn off the lamp, I toss and turn; sleep won't come, my mind spiraling around the earlier incident.

When I applied for the job, I didn't plan for that unexpected reunion. Granted, I know the Wallace family owns the country club, but they normally skip one summer, and knowing they were in Lake Oswego last year, I thought they'd pass over to somewhere else, as usual. It was the green light that led me to even consider going there. If I knew he was going to be there, there was no way I would've looked for a job there. I've always avoided encountering him; I became good at it for six years.

Admittedly, I knew the day I would have to see Aaron Wallace again would come, but I was doing well for a while. We live on different sides of town, which highlight the dissimilarity between us. For years, I had visualized this day in my head over and over with affliction: the day I'd look into his eyes and relive all the pain his existence in my life had caused me.

The discomfort was hell. I sat up on my bed and flipped the lamp next to me, the light warm and dim but brilliant enough on my side. The alarm clock says it's still two hours before Mom returns and four before Dad. Breathing, I lower my upper body, reaching under the bed for the old peach shoe box there, grabbing it back with me.

It was the box to my first high heel when I was a freshman. Talking about freshman year, it all started there, my very Wallace syndrome. Taking off the cap of the box and putting it aside on my thigh. There, the baseball cap. The only possession of Aaron Wallace that I have with me. My fingers are shaking as they run over the surface and I pick it up. I hate this, but it smells like him.

Fuck it, I take it to my nostrils and take a breath from it, and I'm back to fifteen years, tears weighing between my lids.

Immediately, as though it could physically harm me as it does emotionally, I detach the hat from me and put it back into the box, my eyes landing on the black leather journal there that I supposedly started writing on the first day I saw Aaron Wallace.

Swallowing with fear of myself for what I'd written there. But curiosity got the best of me and I pull it out from where it's sitting there, turning over the cover.

No one should be allowed to look this beautiful. Why was he?

My heart pumps as it hadn't for a while. I shut the book impulsively, shoving everything into place in the small box, sliding it back under the bed, and turning off the light.

Shit, shit, shit!

The tears were already everywhere. I can't control it.

Third December, I remember that day as brand new as if it happened today. It was a picture of Aaron I first saw on the bulletin board of my high school before ever seeing him in person, and I fell for him harder than humans should ever know how to. He is the star quarterback in the lineup from his city private school team, set to play against my public school in the upcoming January for the state championship. I didn't know who he was; I was just a freshman, and I lived on the side of town where luxury wasn't painted, and all I knew was unpaid bills on the table every morning. So to me, I only wanted Aaron, not Aaron Wallace. I always stared at his face before going to class because he has that beauty that was difficult to put meaning to. He was seventeen, in his final year then, and the entire Wallace family was scattered around the world. Every girl had giggled, passing the hallways with excitement at the possibility of seeing him soon. And I became one of them. Only while they talked about his family, the private Swiss boarding school he went as family tradition, I was plainly drawn to him as a person. I'd go to the computer lab solely to search his social accounts at a safe corner so no one could see I had a crush on the Wallace boys, and then I had to go through embarrassment with accusation for having feelings as the rest of the girls who sees solely themselves qualified for it.

For an entire month, from the start of December through Christmas and New Year, I stalked Aaron on his social media, and it was one of the exciting times of my life. I started writing about him in the journal my dad got me for my recent birthday, and it was full of admiration for who he was and what the imagination of him did to me. I penned down his name on those pages a thousand times, even though I had only met him twice in my life. It should be unhealthy even for a programmed machine. Now I know.

A streak of light hits my face, and I squeeze my eyes at the effect, stretching my limbs. When I open my eyes, I'm alone in the room, and it's past nine in the morning. I'm content since I don't have anywhere to be late to today, unlike yesterday.

Mom and Dad haven't yet left for work, but it's almost time they do. Lazily, I turn off the AC to minimize the electric bills, slip into my shoes, and saunter down the hall to the living room.

Bubble is on the table with Dad, who is eating cereal, and Mom is organizing packages into the fridge. My eyes went to the sink, and there were loads of dishes to be done. Did she just make food that will last us a week and have it in the fridge?

"Seriously? Did you have to do that?" It's enough she's overworking more than a human should.

She looks back and sees me. "You're awake."

I nod and hug my father from behind as he sits. "Good morning, Dad."

"Good morning, love." He kisses my cheeks, and I go to Bubble to kiss his smooth baby face. Mom had gotten him ready. He smells so good. If only he would stay this age forever.

"Did you take your medication?" I ask him, and he nods as I take a seat next to him.

"I made some things that will come in handy for the week. We can just microwave and eat at any time we get back home since the house will be empty through the day now," Mom says from the kitchen, and my stomach sinks.

"About that..." I start and halt, thinking of how to break the news to them. They have had expectations for this job for me.

"Mom, Livy cry in ta car yes—today," Bubble interjects, and I let out another breath, rubbing my forehead.

Now they all know.

There is an awkward quiet for a period, then Mom breaks it. "Bubble darling, can you go get me my bottle from the room?"

The energetic boy struggles down the chair and excitedly rushes down the hall. Mom walks over to the table, leaning on it for support next to her husband.

"There is no more job, is there?" she asks, and I only shake my head.

Yesterday, I wasn't told I lost my job, but I left knowing it was the reply I was going to get. The Ruby girl definitely complained about me. It had to happen.

Another silence takes over the room.

"Okay, that's fine. There are lots of good places with better tips; I am sure you will get in smoothly. When you're ready, just call me, and we can begin the search," Dad smiles.

The sweetest thing about this family is understanding and support. Sometimes I wonder how God brought us together. We both know there isn't anywhere in town with better tips than the Wallace country club but hearing my dad trying to give me hope, it was everything.

"Thank you, Dad," I mumble, and Mom smiles at me.

"Always, love," he says and gets up. "Time is ticking. Is Bubble's lunch packed?" he says, walking to the kitchen.

"Yes," Mom answers at the same time I start, "Maybe he should stay in today since I am home so far. I can look after him," I suggest, and they both look at each other.

"That works too," Mom shrugs her lips. "I can have the vehicle today."

"Good, then," I grin, and Bubble reappears again with empty hands. I burst out laughing at Mom while she frowns at his toddler forgetfulness.

"You hear that, Bubble? I am your babysitter today," I tell him, and he comes running to me, heaving.

The least I did after Mom put too much work into this morning's meals for the week and had to leave for work was offer to do the dishes. I cleaned the house, started laundry, put away Bubble's toys, and let him do some coloring while I was at it.

It was tiring, but it was what I needed to take my mind off things, so I kept on doing the chores, those needed and those not until while I was passing through the kitchen to take out the trash, the home line rang. I've heard it ringing for a while now, but I didn't want to interrupt my work, but I could pick now that I am nearby and my hands aren't completely full. My phone is in the room, so it likely could be the daycare trying to check on Bubble.

Yes, I forgot to let them know he is staying home today.

I pick up the call and say, "Hello."

"Is this Lively Kelby?" That familiar voice that tolled in my dreams all night fills my hearing right now.

No!

"Aa—I mean, Mister Aaron Wallace?" I squeak in shock and confusion. How does he have my home number?

"Carol said you didn't come in today; why is that? Are you sick?"

What?

"No!" I gasp, still lost for words.

"Okay, get here. We need your help," he simply says.

Okay!

"I do not—I don't have a job there after yesterday." I finish barely, as though speaking was the most impossible task in human abilities.

"Carol, you fired her?" he sternly asks, but he isn't talking to me. He mustn't be alone over there. I hear Carol say no immediately from the background.

I am even shocked; my eyes are wide over here. At least now I know how he got my home line number.

"Lively, you have your job. I am expecting you," he declares conclusively.

My throat is dry. I don't know how to feel. Do I want this job? I know I need it, but is it good for me?

"I can't..." I breathe, my eyes closing as even more realization dawns on me.

"Why is that? If it's about Ruby, it won't happen again. She is back in New York, and Kyle is sober," he straightforwardly informs me.

"Uhmm." That's surprisingly weird. "No, that's not it. Uhmm... thinking I was fired, I offered to babysit my baby brother today," I say subduedly, not regretfully, given I can never take any time spent with Bubble for granted.

"I see," Aaron quietly says into the receiver, as though thoughtful.

My mouth opens. I am about to tell him, maybe tomorrow, if I still have a job by then, when he beats me to speak, "You can come to work with him." The proposal comes like a surprising door opening to heaven. "There is a playroom in my family's private sector; your baby brother can stay there while you work." My heart skips a beat. I don't know why he feels the need to offer that to me, but I think it's safe to say he remembers who I am, and I assure you we didn't part on good terms. So why is he doing this?

"Really?" I stammer. Actually, that will be convenient. This means I get to watch over Bubble for the whole day; it's all that I wanted.

"Yes."

"Okay, umm—" A small stunned laugh slips from my throat. I don't know why he's doing this, but I can only be grateful. "I will get ready and get a cab to the country club," I assure.

"Where do you stay?" It is yet another odd question that takes me a beat to take in.

"Why?"

"You have a kid with you; I will send Keenan. Where do you stay, Lively?" He says directly, like it is final.

"Yo—you don't have to do that."

"Take it as an apology for what Kyle did yesterday. Even if you didn't tell me the address, I will get it from Carol," he collectedly reminds me.

Nervous, I tell him where my house is, and the call ends after he tells me his man will be here in a while.

I need a seat to process what the hell just happened.