2. Fired or Hired

Chapter 2: Fired or Hired

Mika

I tried my hardest not to gag. Kneeing on the bathroom floor, I tried not breathing in the disgusting odor of the urinal that I was supposed to clean. You don't notice how gross these things are until you're this up close and personal with one. I never wanted to do this again.

But boss's orders. I needed to do what he told me or else I'd lose this job too. I couldn't afford to lose another job. At this point, I don't know anyone else who would hire me, with a track record like mine, barely keeping a job for more than a couple months.

And if that meant cleaning urinals, then I was cleaning urinals.

God, why couldn't guys just aim properly? I think after tonight, I never wanted to use another urinal again, no matter how much quicker they were. I'd feel too bad for whoever needed to clean it every day.

I was still attempting to clean the stupid thing some time later, when my boss barged into the small restroom. "Mika! What are you still doing in here? You were supposed to be done with the bathroom half an hour ago! We're about to open!"

I rolled my eyes at his attempt to be commanding. Honestly, I just wanted to laugh. This whole scene was ridiculous. Here he was, standing there, all mad-like, fifty pounds overweight, which was obviously sticking out of the pants he used to wear when he was eighty pounds skinnier. Intimidating, my ass.

"Maybe I wouldn't have taken so long if you had put me on a different task. You know I can handle anything else you put me on."

His face started turning a shade of red. "Did you just talk back to me?"

"Well that's what a conversation is, isn't it?" I asked, already fed up with this guy. "You talk, then I talk, then you talk again? I was just holding up my end of the conversation, Mr. Harding."

"I'm done with your bullshit, Michael."

Oh that does it. He knows that's not my name. I hated that version. "It's Mikael, not Michael. I'm not some white boy." Although, technically I was white, I think. But that's what my parents named me, and I never got a chance to ask why or even ask what they were considered to be. So I go by my name. It's all I have left.

"You know what you are?" He paused and I just shrugged, already knowing where this was going. "You're fired. Get the fuck out of this building. And never come back!"

This was definitely a new one, getting fired in a bathroom over a dirty urinal. As much as I hated losing my job, I was so glad to be free of that place. And at least I still had the rest of the day to look for a new job.

Walking out of the store, I kept my head held high. I wasn't going to be ashamed of being fired. It wasn't my first time, and it probably wouldn't be my last. Stores like that just weren't a good fit for me. Granted, they were usually the only places that would hire me, at least, until they realized I didn't belong there.

I didn't even know what I planned to do with my life. Never have, which is probably how I ended up here. High school drop out and jumping between jobs every few months. But it could be worse. I could be living in the streets again. At least I sort of had a place to live. It had a roof and four walls, and that's all that mattered to me.

Maybe I should start looking into something else. Maybe something that would pay more. I wouldn't even know where to look that I haven't already.

Walking down the street, I counted. Out of the eight stores on this block alone, I've been fired from five, quit one, and the other two refused to hire me because of that track record I've developed.

Looks like I needed to check out a different block.

By the time afternoon rolled around, I still hadn't found anything. Three places turned me away immediately. Another two told me they'd call me, but I saw, at one place, the manager toss my application in the trash when he thought I wasn't looking. And I really wasn't so sure the other place was serious about calling me either. I just wasn't meant to find a job today, that's what fate was telling me.

Now, I didn't really believe in fate. I thought it was stupid that I had to be fated for such a crappy life. I'd rather not believe in that and instead, believe that I had a say in my life, no matter how shitty of a hand I was dealt when I was born. If I actually work hard now, one day, I'll find the job that fits me. But that comes down to actually trying, and I wasn't sure if I was up to doing that. At least not today. I haven't really felt like trying since Amy.

Another reason why fate can't be real. If he was, why the hell did he take Amy away from me?

I looked at the ground as I pushed passed people going in the opposite direction as me. I didn't care. They didn't care about me, so why should I care about them?

I didn't even care when it started raining, just letting the drops hit me as I continued on my way to who knows where. I didn't know where I was going. There was nowhere for me to go anyway, not unless I wanted to sulk in that shithole I called a place to sleep.

Stopping at an intersection, I noticed a piece of paper laying on the ground under my foot. It was a job offering, at least, the part I could see of it said 'JOB AVAILABLE'. Bending over, I stepped off the paper and picked up the soaked and muddy flier, hoping it wouldn't fall apart before I had a chance to read it.

The job was a nanny position for some guy. And it said he'd pay two hundred bucks a day just to watch his baby. Infant, apparently. Wanted: some experience working with children.

I thought for a minute, not even bothering to care that the lights had changed and people started pushing by me to cross the same street I had been waiting to cross before. This job could be what I was looking for. It didn't say anything about housecleaning or all that bullshit. Just straight up babysitting. Easy. I did it for seven years. What's the harm in doing it again?

Checking the address on the bottom, I noticed it was in the rich side of town. That means this guy could definitely pay up. And I could use that money to actually get myself a decent place.

I looked up at the street sign above my head, trying to figure out where I was. This place wasn't actually that far from me. Maybe I'd go and check it out. You never know, maybe this was fate's way of moving me forward, if, of course, fate actually existed.

I arrived at the guy's house maybe twenty minutes later, completely soaked. Sometime during the walk, the rain had really started coming down. But I was on the opposite side of town from my place, so turning around wouldn't have been worth it.

And I was glad that I came. Just by standing outside, I could tell I made the right choice. If anything, I'd get to say I've been inside this house; the fancy one at the end of this street, the one people have always talked about. I actually had to double check the address to make sure this was the right place, and sure enough, it was.

Standing at the front door, I was suddenly nervous. I don't get nervous. Why was I nervous? But I took a deep breath and knocked, pushing all my nervousness to the back of my brain and out of sight.

It took a minute before the door opened, revealing a guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties. He hadn't shaved in a couple days, but the rugged looked definitely looked good on him. Actually, he was quite handsome, I couldn't help but sneak a quick look.

"Can I help you?"

I nodded, pulling the folded, torn, dirty flyer out of my pocket. "I saw this earlier. I'm kinda interested in the job."

"You?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't judge a book by its cover. I have experience with kids. I can change a diaper in under thirty seconds and know exactly how to get them to sleep if they're crying their head off. I'm just a little waterlogged 'cause I walked all the way here in this downpour."

He shook his head quickly and blinked a couple of times. "Of course, I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I'm not usually like that. Please, come in."

He took a step back, giving me room to enter. As soon as I did, I couldn't help but look around. This place was even nicer on the inside.

"I'm Allen, by the way. Allen Carr."

He stuck out his hand and I shook it. "Mika Simmons."

"So, Mika," Allen said, dropping his hand to his side. "Tell me about your experience. You seem quite young to have experience like this."

I shrugged. "Took care of my baby sister since she was just a tiny infant. And I ain't young. I'm twenty-two. Plenty old enough to have taken care of a child."

His face seemed to soften to one of pity. I didn't want his pity. "You had to take care of your sister? What about your parents?"

"What about them? Don't know who they are. Foster parents took me in one year and Amy the next, then left us behind. I was fourteen, she was two months. And I raised her by myself for seven years."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Wait. Seven years. Wouldn't it be eight years, based off the ages you said?"

I shook my head. "Shit happens." I didn't want to think about that. Ever. She wasn't here, and that's all that he needed to know. Actually, he didn't even need to know that, so why was I telling him? I didn't even know this guy and I was telling him my life story. "Enough about me. I'm not here to tell you about me. Tell me about your kid. That's why I'm here."

Allen sighed. "I just put him down for a nap. His mother dropped him off last night, with a note explaining that he's mine. Haven't seen her since, I guess, since I got her pregnant, really. I'm by myself raising a kid I wasn't expecting and have no idea what to do with. Which is why I need the help."

I had a soft spot for babies missing a parent. After all, I was one of them. "What's his name?" I asked, curious.

Allen shook his head. "I haven't decided yet. The mom left that up to me. I've been going back and forth over Edwin and Boris all day. Can't decide."

I couldn't help but scoff. "Boris? Why the hell would you choose Boris? Or Edwin, for that matter. You don't want your kid growing up with either name, man."

"Boris was his mother's father's name. Edwin was my father's."

I shook my head. "No. Good for wanting the family name and all that. But trust me, names matter. Don't do that to your kid."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Ugh. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You'll come up with a good name for him." For some reason, I even believed that when I said it, and I wasn't sure why. I didn't even know him.

The unnamed baby started crying then. Allen looked down the hall, where the sound was coming from, and let out another sigh. "I just put him down."

"Want me? I can show you how I do things?"

"Yeah. Sure."

He led me down the hall to the baby's room. It smelt recently painted, with some furniture haphazardly lying around the room.

"This is dangerous, first off," I said, looking around. "Get the baby away from the paint fumes, and clean up this mess. You'll end up tripping over something, god forbid you trip with him in your arms."

"Oh my god, you're right." He started pushing things closer to the wall while I went over to the crib.

"Hi little guy," I said softly. The baby was beautiful, he really was. Those eyes were definitely his father's. The same light gray color. Picking him up carefully, I rocked him back and forth, giving him my finger to hold on to. Immediately, he quieted down, and Allen led me out of the baby's room and into the living room.

"I don't know how you did it, but you're hired. Can you be here tomorrow morning at six?"

I didn't look up from the baby's face as I answered. "Yeah. Yeah I can do that." I didn't realize how much I missed having a baby in my arms.