The next day, my brother and I headed out the door and started walking towards the sidewalk. The leaves, in various shades of brown, crunched underneath my work shoes that were a size too big and usually left blisters on my ankles if I didn't wear high socks. Jack trailed behind me humming that acoustic indie music he always listens to. The sound of cars whooshed past as we crossed the parking lot to the shopping plaza. I stopped in front of the grocery store and looked up at my younger brother.
"This is $40. Try to get the basics. Milk, bread, eggs, maybe peanut butter, and see if you can find any meat that's cheap enough to cook up," I handed him the two twenty dollar bills.
"You said we could get a candy bar this week!"
"I know. I shouldn't have promised anything," I glanced into the shop windows.
"Just this once. Tomorrow's my birthday even," he said.
I paused, "I promise you, I'll get you something even better than a candy bar for your birthday."
"Pinkie swear?" Jack cracked a smile.
"Pinkie swear." I laughed.
Jack stepped into the grocery store as I ducked my head against the wind and walked a couple shops over to the burger shop. I pulled the glass door open for the incoming customers and followed them in. I swooped the dangling red strands of hair off my face and into a ponytail. With a sigh, I grudgingly pulled on the ButterBurger hat.
"Amy!"
I looked up to see my boss crossing his arms.
"Cutting it close, don't you think?"
"I'm 5 minutes early," I tilted my head and looked at the clock.
"Get to work. We already have a line up of orders," he frowned.
I carefully stepped around him and headed behind the counter to the loud hissing ovens. They kind of reminded me of him. Both were hot headed.
"Hey, don't listen to him. He's just an angry little man," Rosendo handed me my apron as I clocked in.
With a second glance back at him pacing behind the counters, I laughed. "He’d probably start throwing our plastic dishes against the wall if he heard that."
"And then yell at them since they wouldn't break," Rosendo smirked. He pushed me towards to cash register as the boss walked closer, giving his infamous evil eye.
The slow trickle of people became a wave as the lunch crowd came in. A little kid stomped his light up tennis shoes on the white and blue tiled floor, dragging his mother towards the ice cream station. Order after order passed, leaving my face tired from that forced smile that usually came naturally to me. After staring at the Reese's pieces at the topping bar, the faint light from the clock caught my eye as it flickered between the date and five o'clock.
"Hey, I'm gonna head out Rosendo," I walked past him.
"Is it five already?" he said back, looking at his watch. "I'm gonna stay a little after."
My fingers wrapped around my coat as I tried to ignore the dizzy feeling and my grumbling stomach. I closed my eyes and waited for the feeling to pass, mumbling about how good a chocolate shake would taste.
"Ams, you okay?" the sound of Rosendo's voice came from behind me.
I quickly straightened and pulled my coat off the wall, trying to blink the little black dots from my vision. "I'm okay. I'm okay."
"Have you eaten anything today? You know you can get a discount on the employee meal," he pointed back at the burger station.
"I'm okay, don't worry about it. I've got to save up for brother's birthday tomorrow," I tried to walk around him.
"Wait!" he exclaimed. Bringing his voice down lower he nodded toward the fridge, "They don't have security cameras in there."
"I'm not going to steal!"
"I was stating a fact. I don't know what you're talking about. I also have a granola bar. Fact. See?" He fished in his pocket and pulled out a crushed Quaker Oat bar. "Here. I want you to have it."
"Fact?"
"Fact."

The sun was on the edge of the horizon as I walked past the line of shops. The cheerful bell chimed as I walked into the grocery store and bought a small cake for $5. I quickly made my way to the music store by jaywalking across the street holding my breath between the obnoxious car fumes.
The music store was where my brother and I usually hung out with our friends. The people there often were musicians that weren’t much better off themselves. I usually headed straight to the drum sets, but today I turned left to the row of guitars.
“Hey, Julie! What’s shakin bacon?” I waved as Julie looked up from the counter.
“Nothing much, buttercup,” she winked. “Whatcha here for girl?”
“A guitar. For Jack. I got just over $50. Anything I can get for that cheap?” I squinted at the prices.
Her blonde hair swirled as she moved back and forth between the aisles before finally twirling a blue and black guitar from the rack. Julie always had that rock and roll elegance that radiated a cool and collected vibe. She never asked questions, but she always seemed to know what was going on. Every once in a while, she’d sneak us snacks or mittens when the weather was too cold.
She laid the guitar on the counter with a happy gleam in her eyes, “This is a Rogue Starter Acoustic Guitar Blue Burst. I can throw in a case for free. Just don’t tell my boss and we should be all good. A.G.”
I looked around in mock suspicion, “You got the goods?”
Her blue eyes shifted side to side, “You got the money?”
I handed her the debit card and she quickly swiped it. Suddenly, the guitar was in the
case and the debit card was in my hand.
“See you later alligator!”
“After while crocodile!”

The morning light filtered through the blinds, leaving slots of lights across my covers. I slipped out from beneath my covers and ran across the cold tile floor. I quickly changed into the my favorite soft blue shirt and worn-in jeans. It was Sunday, so Jack wouldn't be up until 10 am. I crept past my mother's room, peeking in. The black sheets were still prim and proper and the notepad laid suspiciously under the green lamp.
Will be back in two days. Something came up. Rent money is in the envelope.-Mom
Mom had always been like this after Dad left. I had been 5 and Jack was 3 when the calm night air was disturbed by screams of rage. Jack had stumbled into my room and hid under the covers with me. We flinched after hearing the crashing of plates collapsing against the kitchen wall. There was the loud revving of an engine and the yells of my mom calling him back. She constantly checked out the door for days, expecting him to suddenly show up. He never did and in the end I felt oddly relieved. The sinking feeling only came when Mom started to leave as well. She tried to take care of us, but it was too much for just her. My brother and I have been trying to fill the void ever since.
There was a twist in my stomach as I reread the note. I should be used to this. Why the hell wasn't I used to this yet? I ripped the note off and crumbled it up. After taking a deep breath, I flattened it out again. I diligently copied the same strokes in my mother's handwriting and wrote Happy Birthday Jack! An emergency came up in the family and I will try to be home as soon as I can. I'm so very sorry. I took a breath and signed Love, Mom. Even to me it sounded phony, but hopefully Jack wouldn't notice.
I walked the new note and rent money to the counter. Then I stepped around the couch and turned on the radio, playing soft music. A cold blast of air drifted along my feet as I stood close to the door. Shivering, I pushed a towel along the doorway crack to stop the cold air from drifting in.
"Hey, 'melia," Jack shrugged.
“Hey, you were supposed to be sleeping! I didn’t finish your birthday breakfast!” I jumped up.
“Yeah, sure. The same old toast with a candle in it,” He dragged his feet to the fridge.
“I may have changed it up this year!” I said as Jacob rolled his eyes. I continued, “Well, I MIGHT have if you weren’t up so early.”
I grabbed two pieces of bread and popped it in the rusty toaster. The electric hum stopped and the toast ejected onto the countertop. I blew the hair out of my face as I spread peanut butter and jelly on the toast and placed it on two paper towels. I stuck a yellow candle in the first piece and placed it in front of Jack.
“Happy Birthday, Jack.” I said in a sing-song voice.
We ate quietly, listening to the soft pop songs drifting through the air when Jack finally broke the silence.
“Where’s Mom?” he asked. He looked at the table and started tracing the stains.
I bit my lip and looked at the counter where I had set the note down. His eyes followed my gaze and he went up to grab the note. He read it outloud and his face fell. He kept looking at it again and again. Suddenly, he tore the paper in half.
“Did you really think I would buy this?” Jack stormed. “Mom would never sign her name with love.”
“I was just trying to-” I explained
“Do you think I couldn’t handle it? Is that it?” he interjected.
“It was for-” I tried to point out.
“For my own good? You don’t need to protect me. I’m 15. I’m in high school. I can handle it,” he shred the note again, “I don’t need-”
“I didn’t want you to go through what I did!” I yelled. He stopped ripping the note and I looked up at me. I took a breath, “I’m so sick and tired of her leaving and trying and failing to take care of us and...and I don’t want that life for you. I really, really don’t.”
Jack looked at the ceiling with shiny eyes.
“Here,” I passed him the original crumpled note from my pocket. “If you really want to read it. I’m gonna get some air.”
I paused at the doorway, “I’ll be at the park if you want to come.”
Jack stood there in silence looking at the note. I simply nodded, put on my boots and coat, and left.
The frigid morning air felt cool against my cheeks as I jumped down the patio steps. The urge to run just hit me and I took off. Weaving in and out of parked cars, I swiveled around the condominium complex until I found the metal chain fence around the park. I twisted my boot into the chain link and hoisted myself over. The sound of my own heartbeat pounded through my skull as I rested my hands on my knees. I took a deep breath and inhaled the frigid musty air. Dew drops from the grass clung to my boot before I stepped onto the damp wood chips. The empty park seemed peaceful as I made my way over to the swings.
It must be that humans can only hold so many emotions because the second I sat down, my throat felt tight and my eyes started watering. All of a sudden, my nose started running and I just plain lost it. Sobs shook my body and my breath became uneven. Every time I tried to stop, it seemed to get worse. How on earth do people cry pretty in movies? Whenever I cry, I’m a complete mess.
“Are you okay ma’am?” a high-pitched voice behind me asked.
Normally when people ask that question, it makes it worse. I was so surprised, I turned around to see this young girl, probably around kindergarten age, jumping onto the swing next to me.
“I...I’m just sad. That’s all. My brother and I got in a fight and things went downhill and I’m not even sure my mom cares,” I rambled.
“There’s a song my babysitter Julie sings for me sometimes. It says you are what you love, not who loves you,” she started swinging her legs back and forth.
“Is she pretty musical?” I tilted my head.
“Yeah, she says music makes people feel better,” she said. I smiled, remembering Julie throwing in the guitar case for free. I remembered the guitar under my bed and how happy Jack would be to get it.
I swung higher, letting the wind brush the hair from my face. “You know, you remind me of a friend.’’
“Really?” she asked curiously.
“Yeah. I don’t know much about her since this is the first time we’ve talked.” I smiled.
“Oh,” she squinted in concentration. Her eyes widened and said, “Oh! My name’s Tessa. What’s yours?”
The list of names and nicknames sorted through my head. I finally settled on my favorite and said, “It’s Amelia. Just Amelia.”
The cool air rushed against my cheeks and through my hair as I swung higher and higher. In a life full of stolen moments, I was determined to not let this one go.

I jumped off the swing, letting the moment of flight take over before stomping into the ground. The shock traveled up my legs as I stood up. With a small smile, I looked back at Tessa and tipped an imaginary hat. I took two steps before breaking into a sprint, using my momentum to propel me over the fence, the chain links pressing into my palms. The leaves scuttled across the pavement as I let my mind go on autopilot.
I paused at the old wooden door, which I have seen kicked, slammed, gently prodded open, and punched. My pale fingers wrapped around the metal handle and firmly pushed it open. Jack was standing in front of our beat-up couch with red rimmed eyes and his hands tightly wrapped around his ribs. I kicked off my boots and with two steps I gave him a hug.
"I was kind of hoping you were Mom for a second," Jack said with a shaky breath.
I ran my fingers through his hair and said, "I know."
After a moment I stepped back and said, "Wait here."
I ran towards my room, grazing the edge of doorway. I flipped the edge of my covers from my bed and leaned down to grab the guitar case. Gently, I guided it out from under my bed and tied a makeshift piece of yarn into a bow. I pressed my back against my bedroom door and peered out at Jack who was looking around with a confused look on his face. I tiptoed towards him with the guitar as he looked towards the kitchen. As he shifted his gaze my way, I dropped to the ground behind the couch. I quickly looked over the couch and then back down. I was too fast to see anything. I hopped up and down again. I was still too fast to see anything. Finally, I crouched on the balls of my feet and jumped up.
"SURPRISE!" I yelled.
"AHHHH!" He screamed, jumping back.
"Tehe. I scared you," I smiled as I hid the guitar behind my back.
"I was simply doing that to make you feel better," he grinned sheepishly.
"And I'm simply giving you this because it's way better than a candy bar," I winked.
I passed the guitar case into his hands and watched as he raised his eyebrows. He looked down at the case and up at me.
"Let me guess...it's a banana," He said.
"No!" I exclaimed.
"A rock?" He smirked.
"Just open it, you doofus," I threw my hands up in exasperation.
"So it's not a rock," He said as I glared at him. He looked back down and said, "Alright, I'll open it.”
He untied the frayed piece of rainbow yarn and placed it gently on the ground. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he unzipped the sides of the cases and clicked the buckle open. His eyebrows shot up as he lifted the guitar from the case. He cracked a smile, strumming his hand across the strings.
“No way. Dude. What’s the catch? Is it mine? Like really mine?” He stared at the guitar in awe.
“Dude. It’s your birthday. Of course it’s yours,” I laughed.
He carefully put the guitar into the case and ran up to me, pulling me into one of his rare, genuine hugs. In a voice halfway between laughing and crying, he choked out, “This is definitely better than a candy bar.”
In a life like ours, I have come to realize that life is measured in a series of moments. Our mom may not be in them, and our dad is in even fewer, but we fill it in other ways. We have music to make us feel less alone and at least we still have a place to call our home. We have guts and creativity, and in a life like ours, it’s all you need.