The younger woman asked about the pay, and the older woman answered, “Very generous, otherwise no one would even consider trying.” That was the moment something inside me pushed forward before I could stop it.
I walked into the café and approached their table with a voice that sounded thinner than I wanted. “Excuse me, I overheard you speaking about a caretaker position, and I need work.”
The older woman studied me carefully, taking in every detail without hiding her doubt. “This is not simple work, you understand that,” she said, her tone calm but firm.
“I understand,” I replied, even though I did not.
She explained the responsibilities in detail, including feeding, bathing, lifting, and emotional endurance that even professionals could not handle. I thought about Caleb’s fever and Lily’s hollow knees and answered honestly, “I have children, and I cannot afford to quit anything.”
Something shifted in her expression, something small but real. “What is your name,” she asked.
“My name is Olivia Brooks,” I said.