Things Get Better

This is my first story. I want readers to vote and comment, just keep that little bit of info in mind.

To my editor, Ben:

You are an angel for putting up with my shit and slight-perfectionism. Without your help, this story would suck.

To my readers:

This is going to be several chapters and a slow build-up. In other words, this ain't a quick fuck. If that's what you want, go somewhere else. There isn't even any sex at all in this first chapter. If you're into the characters and their story, then I think this will be for you. At least, I hope so.

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The book bag slung over Shirley's shoulder drooped lower and lower with each step she took. The work from her seventh grade classes was weighing it down. She passed a group of teens standing in a group on the cracked sidewalk smoking what was very likely a not cigarette. They were laughing at vapors and clowns that only they could see. Judging by the smell, Shirley guessed it was pot.

"Hey Shirl. Wanna puff?" one of them asked before he fell on his ass.

"Fuck off." She kept walking, ignoring their laughter. Shirley had to get home soon so she could get to studying. She had a big test coming up in Social Studies.

As she walked Shirley thought back to why she was always working so hard. It was all for her mom.

Shirley's mom died when she was a toddler. Every day Shirley spent time to replay memories of her in her mind to ensure that she never forgot her. Her mother had been wonderful despite their situation. She was a popular prostitute with many kids in her broken down apartment. She tried to keep her line of business from her children by introducing her customers as their uncles. Needless to say, they had a lot of uncles. When she wasn't working, Shirley's mother made time to care for her children. She loved to read stories to them, watch cartoons and play games with them, and take them places.

One day, Child Services came by. Apparently the dilapidated apartment the family lived in wasn't good enough and there were too many children. It didn't matter how good of a mother she was. Shirley remembered all the crying and screaming that had gone on when Child Services came to take them away. Shirley had managed to hide in a kitchen cabinet and waited until everything grew quite. She had opened the door and looked around. Shirley could still see the mess that had greeted her. Furniture was turned over, glass from some unknown source was strewn across the floor along with various debris. In the middle of it all, curled up in a ball on the floor, was Shirley's mother. Everything was deathly silent as Shirley made her way over to her. Shirley had touched her shoulder and her mother had looked at her with tears streaming down her face. When she saw Shirley, she grabbed her and held her tightly against her chest as she sobbed.

Shirley remembered what her mother always said, "You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done." That had become Shirley's motto, too.

When her mother died from AIDS, Shirley was sent to live with her aunt and uncle. Her real uncle, that is. They resented having to care for her and never made it a secret how much they hated her. Shirley almost forgot when her birthday was, because they never even mentioned it. The last time Shirley received a gift, a hug, or even a few kind words was when her mother was still alive.

Shirley sighed and adjusted the book bag on her shoulder. She was almost home.

Shirley had been to see Dr. Mendhelson yesterday on her way home from school. She had a bad feeling she was pregnant. A blood test was taken and Dr. Mendhelson said he would call as soon as the results came back.

Shirley walked towards the front steps of her house. The door flew open to show the murderous looks on her aunt and uncle's faces.

"Get out and never come back. This isn't a whorehouse," her aunt spat at her.

Shit. He called...I am pregnant. Shirley mentally shook herself. She'd deal with that later. "You're kicking me out just because I'm pregnant?"

Her aunt glared at her. "If you weren't fucking your teachers to get good grades, then you wouldn't be pregnant."

Shirley felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She earned those grades with hard work and countless hours of studying. She'd never have sex with one of her teachers or anyone else to get anything. Shirley glared back at her aunt, fighting hard to keep her anger in check.

Shirley ground her teeth together, her voice coming out strained. "I told you what happened."

Her aunt's laugh was a sharp and unpleasant rebuke. "You expect us to believe that?"

Her uncle snapped, "You made that pathetic rape story up so we wouldn't kick you out. It won't work. If we kept you, by the time you graduated and left, babies would be climbing out the windows. Like mother like daughter."

Calm down. He's just trying to make you angry, Shirley told herself.

Her uncle continued, "By getting rid of you we're saving ourselves hundreds of dollars."

Shirley cut her uncle off. "You can't even wait for me to have the baby?" Again, her aunt laughed at her derisively. Her uncle sneered.

"Of course not." Her uncle said. The condemnation in his tone was unmistakable "The sooner we get rid of a slut like you the better. You didn't think we actually cared about you, did you?" They laughed as though the best joke in the world had just been told. Shirley reminded herself that murder was against the law and that giving birth in a prison was no way to bring a child into the world.

Fine, she thought as she walked away. I'll do it all by myself. Nothing new there. As she walked down the street with her book bag slung over her shoulder and a baby just beginning to grow in her stomach, Shirley started making plans. Inside her back pocket was the $125 she managed to save over the past six months performing odd jobs in the neighborhood. Shirley always carried it just in case she should get thrown out on the street by those assholes.

Her first course of action was to walk a few blocks and then wait to catch the next bus. Shirley figured that she could ride it to the next city, or maybe even farther. Once she got to a likely city, she would find a homeless shelter to live in until she had enough money saved up for something more permanent. Next, she would find a job. All she had to do was lie about her age. Whether anyone believed her wouldn't matter. Nobody would be able to check up on her. Nor would anyone pass on the opportunity to wring long hours of work out of her and cheat her on her pay. As long as they didn't cheat her too much, she'd have to accept whatever she was offered.

Shirley sat down on the cast iron, bus stop bench and placed a hand on her stomach. It was scary to think that a child was growing inside of her. Shirley was only twelve years old and had just been kicked out of her home. Sure the place had sucked, but it was all she had. Now it was gone. She didn't have any friends or family to help her. She didn't have an income or a place to live, didn't know what giving birth was like, and she hadn't even been given a choice about getting pregnant or losing her virginity. Shirley had been raped. Her virginity had been taken from her.

"Getting on?"

Shirley jumped. She hadn't heard the bus pull up. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to hide her fears. She learned early on to never let anyone see when you're afraid.

Shirley paid her fare and took a seat on the nearly empty bus. She looked through the glass as sceneries flew past her window, without seeing anything at all. All she had was the useless schoolwork in her book bag, the money in her pocket, the child in her belly, and herself.

Shirley took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done. She wasn't the only one relying on herself anymore. Whether she was ready for parenthood did not matter; it was going to happen. For the sake of her child, she knew she must to build something out of the rubble that was now her life. Only Death himself could stand in her way. And if he was reckless enough to try, he damn well better be ready for the fight of his life.

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~ 8 months later ~

A very pregnant Shirley tied a white apron around her pink uniform and pinned her name tag on. She was now thirteen and due very soon. She was working in Diner Fever as a waitress and, four blocks down the main road, at Sleepy Hollow as a maid. The diner gave her a pay check. The motel gave her a place to live. Wherever she went, people leered at her when they thought she couldn't see and whispered when they thought she couldn't hear. The incessant hatefulness hurt, but she trained herself to ignore it. She let the assholes think whatever they wanted. It was easier than telling everyone the truth.

Shirley made her way to her first table, which sat a group of lanky teenagers. "My name is Shirley and I'll be your waitress today. The—"

Laughter and a few whistles filled the air.

"Aren't you a little young to be getting busy?" said the bastard with dreads.

More laughs.

Shirley sighed. She had become inured to this sort of behavior. Refusing to let the jackasses get to her, she rattled off the house specials from memory. "Can I get you anything else?"

"I'd say yes, but it seems someone already got it!" The table erupted in laughter.

Shirley took a deep breath, telling herself to calm down. Lashing back would solve nothing. Neither would crying—not that she'd ever let any of her antagonists see her cry—or saying something smart. She simply replied, "I meant something to drink."

They cracked more jokes about their waddling waitress the moment she left to turn their orders in to the kitchen. As always, the taunting hurt and made her want to cry. However, she was determined to never let anyone see her fear or her pain. You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done. Being unemployed while giving birth was a nightmare she would avoid at any cost. For the sake of her child, she would do her job showing nothing but professionalism, no matter how many of these jackasses she was required to serve.

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~ 3 weeks later ~

An exhausted Shirley lay in her bed at the motel, holding her newborn son. She had to give birth in the cramped confines of a dimly lit motel room because she couldn't afford to go to the hospital. The motel manager Mr. Cross stood over her bed, looking down on mother and child. Disgust was written plainly across his face. "You're paying for those sheets." Mr. Cross informed her.

Shirley nodded, making no attempt at trying to speak. Having no medical insurance, not to mention the money it takes to fill a prescription even if she did, she had been forced to endure the labors of childbirth without pain killers of any kind.

"You're lucky I got that doctor in."

She nodded again and wondered why she had never noticed before how much energy such a simple gesture consumed.

"You'll be paying for him."

Once again, Shirley nodded without saying a word.

Mr. Cross left them completely alone then, grumbling something along the lines of, "What's this world coming to?" as he made his way out of the room. When he reached the threshold, Shirley picked out the words, "pregnant children" before the door slammed shut and he was gone. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She was too worn out.

The new mother watched as her new son slept in her arms. She knew she would fall asleep soon and didn't want to risk dropping him. Summoning more strength than she knew she could, Shirley rolled onto her side and laid him alongside of her. That single movement exhausted her, pushing her ever closer to sleep. She rested her hand on her sleeping son's stomach and watched him as her eyelids fought with her to close.

She had more now than she had when she'd been forced to leave home. She had a paycheck, a place to live, and she even had a few friends. However, she still wasn't ready to be a mother. It didn't matter, it happened anyway. You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done. For the sake of her son, she was going to give him everything she never had, the most of which was a happy childhood.

Her last conscious thought was, He looks like an Andy.

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~ 6 years later ~

Shirley walked into her motel room and reached behind her to untie her apron while silently wishing her headache would disappear. The room's furnishings consisted of two beds, one for her and one for her son, two tables, and a tiny bathroom. It was impersonal and looked nothing like a place where a child was being raised. However, the cold room was better than nothing, which was their alternative.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Andy came running up to her with a book in his hand. Shirley hung her apron on the back of the door and kneeled down to hug her son. He pulled away and looked into her face, "You finished your shift early."

She smiled at him, "I wanted to tuck you in tonight."

"Yay!"

Shirley could see his two missing teeth when Andy smiled at her. But then, she could also see them when Andy was not in the same room or even on the same city block. Right now, though, Andy was grinning and jumping up and down in front of her as if he'd just been given the greatest gift in the world. He grabbed his mother's hand with both of his small ones and pulled her to his bed behind him. His book lay forgotten on the floor.

Andy jumped onto his bed and crawled under the sheets while his smiling mother sat on the edge of the bed.

Shirley usually got home too late to tuck her little boy in bed, and missing out on such an important task killed her. When Andy got home from first grade, he usually ate the dinner she left for him, did his homework, took a bath, read a book, and was asleep by the time she finished her shift in the motel. She felt horrible for not being able to do those things with him, but she had to earn money or they'd be on the streets.

She tucked the sheets around his little body and kissed his forehead. Before Shirley stood up, Andy reached out, grabbed her head, and pushed his lips against her cheek, giving her a sloppy kiss. Shirley laughed and ruffled his dirty blond hair.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy."

"Good night, honey."

"Good night, Mommy."

She stood and walked over to the bathroom door, turning the light in the main room out and picking up his book and placing it on a table as she went.

"Mommy?" Andy said hesitantly.

Shirley turned to face him in the dark, "Yes?"

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

Shirley's breath left her body in a rush. Andy was looking at her and waiting for an answer. What could she say? She couldn't tell him the truth. He was only six years old. What the hell could she say?

She walked over to him and sat back down on the bed, glad the darkness was hiding her face somewhat. She picked up his hand and ran her fingers over it while she gathered herself to think of an answer.

"Sometimes adults fall out of love with one another," she answered hesitantly, hoping it was the correct thing to say. "Your daddy fell out of love with me and left."

She risked a glance at her son's little face and saw it scrunched up in thought as he considered her words. "Did he love me?"

Damnit! What do you say to that?! If she told him yes, he may one day want to find him. What would she do then? If she told him no—she couldn't tell him his daddy didn't love him. That would be far too cruel.

She sighed and said the only thing she could think of, "I don't know, honey. I just don't know."

Andy nodded.

Shirley felt as if she had just aged decades. She moved to the door again.

"Mommy?"

Please, not again. "Yes?"

"Daddy was stupid to fall out of love with you."

Shirley smiled and tears sprang to her eyes. "Thank you, honey. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy."

"Good night."

"Good night, Mommy."

Shirley stood in the shower with the water so hot it turned her skin bright red. She washed her hair while she thought. Andy's response still had her feeling giddy. She chuckled. Daddy was stupid to fall out of love with you. Those were now the sweetest words she could ever imagine anyone saying.

Her good mood didn't last long after she recalled who had really given her Andy and how. That memory led to thoughts of where they were and why she had come home early. She felt she was a failure as a mother. Andy didn't even know how to ride a bike because she couldn't afford to buy one. Shirley tossed her head back into the spray and rinsed her hair, running her fingers through her locks. She sighed and thought. You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done. For the sake of her son, she'd find some way to ensure he had the opportunity to learn things every child should know, such as how to ride a bike.

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~ 12 years later ~

Shirley shut the door to her motel room, staggered over to her bed, and fell across it. She heard a laugh and rolled over to glare at her son.

"Tired?" he teased.

"Just 'cause you're eighteen doesn't mean I can't take you across my knee."

He laughed and bent down to dig in the book bag lying at his feet. When he came back up, he had a textbook in his hands. The moment Shirley saw it she groaned. "Can't you take pity on your poor old mother just once?" she said, earning another laugh.

"First, thirty-one isn't old. Second, this isn't torture."

"Says you." Shirley mumbled.

Andy ignored her and continued. "Third, no."

"What did I ever do to make you so cruel?" She covered her eyes with her arm.

Andy laughed his reply, "It's not that bad."

"It is after a hard day's work."

Andy, once again, chose to ignore her objection. Instead, he showed her the textbook again. "Now come on."

Shirley sighed, sat up, and leaned against the pillows as though they were the only things holding her together. Andy had been teaching her the things he learned in school ever since he reached the seventh grade. It was his idea, and he was adamant about her getting a high school education one way or another. She had never been able to talk him out of a day's lesson, and today didn't look to be any different. After working at 7-Eleven for nine and a half straight hours, she didn't have the strength to argue with the boy.

"What's today's lesson?" she asked hollowly, suddenly longing for the days when Andy's work was little more than drawing scatterplots and memorizing the seven basic characteristics of life.

"Chemistry AP."

Shirley groaned. "Why couldn't I have had a normal son? Is having a boy who wants to play football too much to ask for? Why did I have to get a genius who wants to be a chemical engineer? Who the fuck wants to be a chemical engineer?"

Andy laughed. He knew his mother was only teasing him. When he told her what he wanted to go to college for she was speechless for hours. When her ability to form coherent sentences returned, she asked him if he was serious. When he said yes, she told him she'd be proud of him no matter what he did. She was amazed and impressed that he wanted to give such a hard career a shot.

Shirley sighed, running a weary hand through her dark brown hair. The sooner I get this over with, she told herself. "Fine. Shoot."

Andy proceeded to teach her about covalent and ionic bonds, and then he gave her a test on the material.

"And here's yesterday's test on Government History."