Lemons, Dilemmas, and Oh Baby

A Box of Lemons 1

When will someone invent an alarm clock that reaches over and drags a person out of bed in the morning? Emma heard the alarm but didn't move to shut the thing off. It continued to beep for the next fifteen minutes. Finally, she forced herself out of bed. Once again she would be late, especially if her daughter refused to dress accordingly for school.

Emma put on a pair of black denim jeans, a T-shirt would have to do this morning. Her smock would cover it from view, though her boss would probably gripe about not wearing the polo shirt. Her last polo shirt rested on top of the hamper of dirty clothes waiting to be washed. She'd do the wash later, after work.

"Mia, where's your shoes?" Emma lacked patience this morning. She hated waking up irritated, but they went through this every morning. If Mia couldn't find her shoes, she would miss her bus forcing Emma to drive across town to the school to drop her off, making her late even more for work. Her boss was sure to be pissed.

After ten minutes of searching Emma finally located the last shoe. It had been on the opposite side of the room beneath the sofa. She ushered her daughter out the door holding a piece of toast in one hand. This wasn't her typical breakfast fair, today was an exception to the breakfast rule. They were in a hurry. Of course, the bus driver wouldn't wait. He drove off as they made it to the curb.

Fuck my life. Emma cursed under her breath, hoping her daughter didn't hear her words. Damn it, back in the apartment; snatch the keys from the kitchen table along with the purse hanging on the back of the kitchen chair. After a quick swig of the last mouthful of coffee, next she only had to hustle her daughter into the backseat of the car and then into school.

Please, Mia, don't be a problem today, she prayed on the way to the school. Her day was already bad enough. If the teacher stalled her, she might as well call in sick, which would surely see her fired. Emma had already missed three days in the past month because she woke up sick to her stomach. Just when she thought she was feeling better another round of a stomach bug would hit her.

Emma pulled into the parking lot of Kubert's Supermarket at half past eight. She was an hour and a half late for work. This was her second job in the past six years. Her first job was at the local doughnut shop where she had been employed for nearly four years before coming here to work as a produce clerk. She liked the doughnut shop better. Maybe it was time for another job. She quickly checked her long blonde hair in the rearview mirror. It would have to do. At least it wasn't a mess. A hair tie in the bottom of her purse made a quick ponytail before going to face the boss.

How would he handle her news of needing to leave early on Wednesday to attend a parent-teacher meeting? More fuel for the fire.

Kubert's wasn't a superstore; it was merely a local family market on the outskirts of Plattsburgh. The store employed no more than fifty workers on both days and nights. This part of town was sleepy compared to the center of the city where one would find the superstores and larger supermarkets. The only problem with small markets like this one was everyone knew everyone's business.

It wasn't the fact that her co-workers knew she was a single mother. Nor, was it the fact that they knew she lived in subsidized housing. What bothered Emma most was how everyone tried to get her to go back to school and get her high school diploma. This was something she didn't have time for. She had a daughter to rear, and all her time was devoted to her. Anything to do with education would have to wait until Mia was older when she wouldn't need twenty-four-hour supervision. Plus, Emma couldn't afford child care. Especially on the wages, she was paid working here.

"Rough weekend?" Mr. Hamlin asked when Emma scooted into the back room to don a smock over her T-shirt and jeans. He was the meat manager. His hair was a dark mop in need of a cut, a bit long for a man of his age of forty-nine and counting backwards, though the backward years didn't take away the hint of lines forming underneath his eyes. Could those lines be from lack of sleep or stress of the job?

Emma looked about hoping to avoid her own produce manager for as long as she could. She feared what he would say to her for being late again.

"The weekend was okay, Mia couldn't find her shoes this morning."

"You might try setting her things out the night before so you don't have to go through this every morning."

"You're right. I just never remember until we are on the hunt for the shoes."

Emma pulled a stainless steel cart into the produce cooler to load it with fruit. She needed a box of lemons for the shelf. When she lifted the box, apparently the bottom had gotten wet and gave way before the box made it to her cart. Lemons went everywhere, across the floor and under pallets. Ugh - why was her day going this way? She should have stayed home, in bed.

Her boss poked his head in the cooler as she picked up the last lemon." Emma, can I have a word with you?"

She followed him to the office to find the store manager waiting there too. They motioned her to take a seat. This was the moment of her fears coming true.

"Emma, we regret to tell you, we need to let you go."

Pain shot from the bottom of her throat to her heart when she heard those words. They were firing her. Even though she didn't like working here, it had been a job. This position put money in her pocket so she could buy food and pay rent. She had other bills too. What was she going to do now?

Her life had turned into a box of lemons, and the bottom had just fallen out.

(o