Our Little Happy Ending

Fights..New people..

Picture of Dimitri on the side --->

Chapter 2 > Fights..New People..

In my cramped shoe-box apartment with just two bedrooms, a single bathroom, a small kitchen, and a tiny living room, I feel lucky that it came furnished when I rented it. Right now, I'm in the girls' room, getting them ready to head over to our neighbor Susana's place. She's a Venezuelan woman in her thirties who kindly babysits my little ones when duty calls.

Viola's in a teal green shirt, white leggings, sandals with teal dots, and a matching headband. Maia's donning a red shirt with "Mommy's Sweetest Thing" written on it, black leggings, red shoes, and a headband in white and red. Once they're set, I slip into my work uniform—a red polo, a black vest, black pants—and lace up my beat-up Converse.

With Viola in my arms, my bag slung over my shoulder, and Maia holding my hand, we head out, locking the door behind us. We make our way to Susana's door and knock. She opens it right away, cooing over how cute they are.

After kissing both my girls on the cheek and bidding them farewell, I bend down to Maia's height for a hug. She says in that sweet tone of hers, "Momma, I love you." Watching her scamper inside, I start my walk to work, just two blocks away.

As I stroll, I stuff my keys into my bag, which holds my wallet with a meager $17, some quarters, my Blackberry Torch, sonograms of the girls in my belly, and pictures from their birth. My makeup essentials—cherry chapstick, fruity lip gloss, eyeliner, and mascara—also find a spot in there.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps behind me. Whirling around, I find no one there. Thanks to my dad enrolling me in self-defense and MMA classes as a kid, I'm not easily spooked. "You don't scare me! Show yourself!" I challenge.And show himself he does—a guy from a local Spanish gang, Bravo. Armed with a makeshift gun, he threatens me. "I'm gonna kill you," he says.

Unfazed, I taunt, "Do it. Shoot. We both know you don't have the guts or the balls." Shocked, he demands my bag, but I refuse vehemently, asserting my hard-earned right to it.

In the ensuing scuffle, I disarm him and knock him out with a swift punch to the temple before continuing to work.

Arriving at the café, I'm met with warm greetings from my coworkers and boss. "Good morning, lovelies," I call out, heading over to Stella at the counter. She's my best friend, younger than me but wise beyond her years. Stella Calypso, with her hazel brown eyes and pixie-cut brown hair, lost her parents a year ago. I've offered her a home with us once I find stability.

As two attractive police officers enter, I welcome them with menus in hand. Leading them to a booth, I set down the menus and told them to take their time. Stella's already swooning over them, but I remind her to focus.

She eventually hands their order to Jim while I help Luke, the barista, with the drinks. Serving their beverages, I watch as Stella flirts shamelessly, though I can't help but worry about her antics.

Once their food arrives, I step back, and Stella whispers-yells her admiration. Reasoning with her, I stress the importance of apologizing to Officer Green for her behavior.When she does, they exchange numbers, and I find myself caught up in the whirlwind of their budding romance.

Feeling overwhelmed by my own emotions, I start to break down. But Dimitri, one of the officers, steps in to comfort me, guiding me through calming breaths.

As I compose myself, I realize I'm running late. Stella offers to cover for me, and Dimitri insists on walking me home. Despite my protests, I relent, and we head out together.