Protect Me From Myself

Chapter-Two

Roya

Jaxson and I settled in very well over the following week. May comes by every day to check on us and see if we need anything. I tell her each time that we're fine. For the first two days, she brought us dinner that she'd made for us. She's such a lovely woman, and Jaxson has become quite attached to her.

She also drove us around town once or twice in order for me to get familiar with the place I now live. I must say, it wasn't hard to memorize the place. And Jaxson loves the waterfront. I take him for a walk along it each evening before his bedtime. The fresh air knocks him out, and he sleeps all night without any problems. It's so nice to see Jaxson like that, especially when he could never sleep easily in the past.

Of course, my eyes scan every person I see as I always think, “Could they be them?” I've yet to pluck up the courage to ask anyone if what I know could be true. All I own is a newspaper clipping with a picture of their faces, a print of their names, and what happened all those years ago. And, of course, the name of this little town. I only hope they still live here.

I managed to get Jaxson into a preschool program, which he started today. He sobbed his little heart out when I left him. I've never left him like that before. It killed me inside to walk away from him, and I sat in my car for ten minutes crying before I finally pulled away. He'll only be there for half a day, four hours each day, but he's never really been away from me in his life. Apart from the times he was in hospital and I had to work, but this is different. This is the first normal thing he's been able to do. And I wanted to make it seem fun for him, but it seemed anything but to Jaxson.

I'm now about to walk into the local boutique to ask if there's any work available. May pointed out that the young woman who owns the place might be looking for help. I'm nervous as hell. I don't have nice clothes, but I have one decent white and flowing skirt, a tight white button-down sleeveless shirt, and a matching pair of white sandals that I've put on today. Thank God it's summer.

I've tied my long blonde hair up in a high ponytail. I don't own much makeup, but I have enough to make me look half-decent.

I look up at the sign above the door as I stand outside, trying to pluck up the courage to go inside. Aimee's Boutique.

It's simple, I like it.

With one last deep breath, I walk inside. There's a young brunette standing behind the counter. She's dressed in a pretty yellow sun dress, her hair is braided, and she's smiling while swaying at the sound of pop song coming from the radio. She may be in her mid-twenties, but she has the look of someone a little younger.

She looks up at me and smiles wider. “Hi, there. How can I help you?”

Breathe, Roya. You need this job. If it's a no, maybe she'll know somewhere else in town that is hiring.

I walk toward the counter, stopping right in front of it. God, she uses a lot of perfume. And it must be expensive, I can smell it really strongly. It's a pleasant smell, though.

“Hi. My name is Roya Nixon.” She takes my outstretched hand and shakes it with a smile on her face. “I've just moved into town recently, and I'm looking for a job. And I wondered if you had anything going?” I ask hopefully.

“I see. Well, first of all, it's nice to meet you, Roya. Your name is awesome!” She laughs like she's never heard my name before. For all I know, she hasn't. “Secondly, I'm Aimee. Welcome to my boutique. I am actually looking for help.”

Yes!

“As this is a small town, it's not easy to find the help you need. At least it's hard to find decent seamstresses. I'm about to close up for lunch. If you'd like to join me in my office, I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

I nod my head and wait for her to close up shop.

As she closes up I notice it: a framed photograph behind her counter. Aimee with another woman, standing cheek to cheek, looking like they're partying. From the way they're dressed, it seems like a wedding or cocktail party. The woman in the picture with Aimee looks familiar, older than the newspaper clipping I have, but if Aimee has a photo, surely that must mean that she not only knows her but that she still lives here?

“Ready?”

“Sorry. I was just admiring your picture. Is that your mother?”

I know the woman has three daughters.

Could Aimee be one of them?

“Oh, no,” She laughs. “That's my mother's best friend. She's like an aunt to me. We were at her daughter's wedding, and someone took the picture. I hung it up in here because she's been my inspiration for many things.” She chuckles.

Okay, so she's an inspirational woman. I can see that. I like it.

“Does she live close?”

“Yes,” She nods, and my heart does a backflip into my ass. “On the other side of town. Anyway,” Aimee holds her hand out, motioning me to walk this way.

She leads me into her office at the back of the store, which itself is impressive. It's small, but I can tell she does good business here. She has some fantastic designs hanging up in the store itself. Plus, she has rails and rails of se.xy lingerie of all colors and styles. I can see myself working here. I'd be happy here. I love the old-fashioned mirrors on the walls and the stall-type dressing rooms at the back of the shop, covered with a black curtain. It's authentic, rustic, old.

Aimee offers me coffee, which I turn down. I don't drink coffee; I never have. She then offers me a bottle of water, which I accept. I'm dying of thirst in this heat. Her office is quite cozy. There's nothing more than a filing cabinet, a desk with a phone and laptop, and the chairs Aimee and I are sitting in. But somehow, it gives off such a warm feeling.

“So, Roya. What brings you to Oak Springs?”

“A fresh start.” I shrug. I can't tell this woman why I'm really here. I need to go slow and gather all the facts before I get to the point of it all.

“Where about are you living?”

“Hillside.”

Why is she asking me where I live?

“The Clarke's old place?” I nod. “Ah, yes... So, I assume you're a seamstress, and May told you to come here?”

“Yes. I make a lot of my own clothes. I'm also quite gifted with lingerie.”

“Would you happen to have any samples with you?”

“No. But...” I lift my portfolio out of my backpack. Yes, I use a backpack. “I do have this.” I hand it to her and sit quietly while she looks through it. Every now and again, Aimee's eyes widen in surprise. She looks impressed. I hope she's impressed.

I always take pictures of the things I design and make; I then stick the photos in my binder, which acts as my portfolio, along with drawings of designs I would like to make but could never afford the material to do so. I have a lot of designs in there, everything from cocktail dresses to corsets to baby doll night slips.

I'm starting to feel nervous. Some of my designs are a little out there. This place isn't the kind of place that sells gothic lingerie, nor is it the kind of place that sells erotic clothing. I shouldn't have been so bold as to bring this to Aimee. I should have taken those drawings out and shown her the simpler things. My palms are sweating, and my mouth is dry.

I take a long draft of my water while keeping my eyes on Aimee. She seems to be engrossed in something. Something has definitely caught her eye.

“Roya, these are exquisite.” She lowers the portfolio so I can see what she's referring to. Oh, my Seductive line. A line of erotic lingerie I designed last year. “Have you produced these for anyone else?”

“No. I never had the courage to show anyone else. I forgot they were in there.”

“Would you be able to mock me up a few samples? I'd like to show them to a group of my more...” She takes a deep breath and smiles. “Let's just say I have a few ladies who regularly buy lingerie from me who I think would love this. How long before you can have the samples to me?”

I swallow hard. This is a great opportunity for me, but I don't have a sewing machine, nor do I have the money for materials.

“I'm not sure. I mean, I haven't been able to buy a sewing machine yet. And I'm not really sure where I'd purchase the right materials.”

“Give me a list of the materials you need, and I'll get them to you. And you can use my sewing room to make them. It's out back where I usually make everything customers order from me.”

“I don't know what to say.”

Jesus, is everybody in this town so damn friendly?

“Get these samples to me by the end of the week, and we'll discuss that job.”

“Really?” She nods with a smile on her face. “Oh my God, thank you so much.” I can't believe it; my life is finally looking up!

“As you're new in town, why don't you join me and a couple of my friends for dinner? It's nothing fancy, just the local pub. But it will be a good way for you to meet some of the girls.”

“I don't know.” I'm not a sociable person. I've spent the past five years keeping myself to myself. Just Jaxson and me for the past four.

“Come on. This town is a small one, and pretty soon everybody will want to know who you are. If Mrs. Clarke hasn't told them all about you by now. It will be a good way for you to make friends. And as your boss, I insist.”

“I thought you said we'd talk about the job after I get the samples to you?”

“Oh, come on,” She rolls her eyes playfully. “I think we both know that I'm going to give you the job. Especially if these designs are anything to go by.”

“Wow.” I'm overwhelmed. But, “I don't know anybody else in town, and I can't leave my son alone.”

“You have a son?” I nod my head. “You don't look old enough.” She chuckles.

“I'm old enough. His name is Jaxson.”

“How old is he?”

“He just turned four.”

“And how old are you exactly?”

“Twenty-one,” I say quietly.

I always get this wherever I go. People seem to think that because I was so young when I had my baby, I should have given him up to people who could have cared for him better. People don't seem to realize that I'm what's best for Jaxson. We may not have had much up until now, but I have worked so hard since he was born to pay for his medical care and get him what he needed. I literally worked my fingers to the bone. We lived in squalor just so I could keep him alive. I kept him because I loved him too much to give him up, and I knew there would come a day when everything would get better for us.

“I love my son, Aimee. I know I was young when I had him, but he's my life. And I really need this job so that I can pay for his medication.”

Her eyes narrow in concern. “What's wrong with him?”

“He was born prematurely, and he had complications with his breathing. He was four months old before I could take him home. Then, after that, it was just one sickness after another.” My lip quivers.

I can't bear any of this; it's killing me. I'm trying so hard to be strong for Jaxson, but it's so hard because I am so scared for him. He may be getting better, but the thought he could any day relapse is too much for me.

“Roya, it's okay,”

I shake my head and wipe the tears from my face. I feel like an idio.t crying in front of this woman, but I can't always help it.

“I moved here because Jaxson needs a place where he can feel safe. He has problems connecting with people. He's frightened of everyone and everything, and I knew coming to this quiet little town would be just what he needed.

“We used to move around a lot. I never felt like I belonged anywhere, and I had to go where the work was. And I finally just wanted somewhere we could find peace for Jaxson and me. Somewhere we can call home without having to move again.”

“I can understand that.” She says kindly.

“When Jaxson was two years old,” I breathe deeply, looking up at the ceiling. “He was diagnosed with leukemia.” I sob into my hands.

I haven't said it out loud to anyone else in two long years. But then, I've had no one but my son since before he was born. I have no idea why I'm telling this woman all of this; I've known her for twenty minutes. But if I am to live in this town, people are bound to find out about Jaxson's illness. Plus, we have a connection of sorts.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry.” She jumps out of her seat, rushes around her desk, and crouches down in front of me, taking my hands in hers.

I didn't come in here intending to do this. I don't want to guilt Aimee into giving me a job, but I am so desperate. My baby needs a lot of care, and I have to earn money to pay for it. Plus, I have mounting medical bills that I can't pay now. Fighting Cancer for two years and all the treatment Jaxson needed cost so much more than I could have ever hoped to pay for. My insurance just didn't cover everything. The little... let's call them “Jobs” I did were the only way I could make ends meet.

If I'm honest, I'm going to need two jobs even here in order to earn enough money to pay rent and buy food. God knows how I'm going to afford everything Jaxson needs, and that's what is scaring me so much right now. My insurance just won't cover it, and it never will. But I can't allow myself to be selfish; things have improved since I moved here.

“He fought so hard for two years. He had three operations; one included removing half his left lung.” She gaps in shock. It is shocking, but this is the reality I have lived with since Jaxson's diagnosis.

“Three weeks ago, he was finally given the all-clear. My baby is finally in remission. But I'm terrified that he'll relapse and that fear will never leave me. But I need to work because the medical bills that piled up since his birth seem never-ending.”

“Listen to me,” I look up at her. She's got tears in her eyes. I didn't tell her this to upset her. “I know how scared you must be, and that's why you need friends. Believe me, everyone here is very friendly. You have a job here; that's a guarantee.” I breathe deeply in relief. “Come to dinner; bring Jaxson with you. It will do him and you the world of good to meet everyone. Plus, one of the girls who will be there tonight is a nurse at the hospital. It will be good for you to meet her.”

“I don't really want Jaxson's first meeting with people to be overshadowed by his illness, nor the fact he's a cancer survivor. People will find out soon enough. But for tonight, can we keep it between us?” She nods with a smile on her face. “Okay,” I smile. “Where and what time?”