𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝, guy germaine

𝐎𝐍𝐄 | don't cry, don't trip, don't stop

"DON'T CRY, DON'T TRIP, don't stop" was the advice I had been given a few moments ago, advice I have received many times in my life from my mother before this one. Yet this felt like one of the most important.

I was in a blue floral dress my mama found for me at a thrift store and sleek white cowboy boots I took from her closet. I had bothered to use our rusty old hair curler and a blow dryer for once too. Today was a very important day.

I was getting a job.
More importantly, I was in desperate need of this job.

I could hear the echoing music as I walked down broadway, focusing my attention to see if I could pick any songs out. Though it was just 10 am, the streets were already alive and bustling with tourists and locals alike. I didn't have much time before my desired workplace opened - a bar next to a strip club.

Of course, I wasn't going into this blind. I had asked my big brother Judson's girl friends which place would be best to waitress, and this was the one. It got the most customers, paid the best, and you made the best tips if you worked peak hours - all based on it's prime location, which attracted drunkards and people with money to blow all the same.

Though I was just fifteen, I didn't quite look it. If I dared to sneak out on broadway at night, I'd have drunk out-of-towners trying to hit on me as I walked around, thinking I was at least 21 based on my figure. That's why I didn't go out unless Judson was with me, he had a way of scaring people away like a bulldog or a Great Dane.

I was just a block from the bar when I realized just how great all of this action was weighing on me. This wasn't just a silly little job, this was the most important job I could ever have.

We found out about a week ago that my mama has stage three breast cancer, and was reaching the border of stage four. It was the hardest words I've ever had to hear, especially knowing that we had no funds to get her better - we didn't even have insurance.

Ever since my dad died overseas just before my little brother Chris was born, it's been mama supporting all five kids. Yes, she got money from his military pension and we were on food stamps, but that just ain't enough. So mama worked her ass off as a secretary for the local law firm, making sure she could pay rent and the utilities - keep the heat on and have us dressed in more than rags.

Now mama was in so much pain that she couldn't work anymore. They gave her a bit of severance since they felt bad about her situation, but nothing is enough to support all of us. Even if I coughed up all the money I made busking the last four years, money I've been saving for music school, it would hardly get her a month of the pills that could keep her alive, let alone surgery, or radiation, or chemotherapy.

Of course, we had the income that was her new disability check, but we had too many expenses for that. The only break we had was that Judson moved out on his own, so it was down to four kids rather than five.

Even though nothing could save my mama anymore, I knew this job would at least save me and my brothers.

I walked in the purple front doors to the bar, my head held high with a smile. Don't cry, don't trip, don't stop.

"Hey, sorry, we're closed until 11." A man seeming to be the manager spoke from the counter he was wiping.
"I know, I'm here because I heard you had an open waitstaff position."
"Why yes we do, young lady."
He stopped his work, coming around the bar to sit at one of the barstools, gesturing I should sit at the one next to him. I adjusted my skirt as I hopped up on one, and he smiled.

"How old are you?"
"18, sir." The first lie - it was an easy one.
"Have you been a waitress before?"
"Y-yes, I have." I hated lying, it felt so sour on my tongue. But to quote my big brother, sometimes you've got to do what you've got to do.