A Heart for Rebel
Authors: Mia Natal
* * * *
AMAZON EDITION
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© 2014 by Mia Natal
Edited by April Wood
http://www.facebook.com/authoraprilwood
Cover design provided
by Ritzendollar
Design
http://www.ritzendollardesign.com
All rights
reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part
of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval
system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of
the copyright owner of this book.
This is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The
author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without
permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized,
associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
*Warning*
This book is
intended for mature audience over the age of 18. It contains explicit language,
sexual situations, and minor violence which may be upsetting to some.
Table of Contents
D
RIP...DRIP...DRIP.
Every single night.
Drip...Drip...Drip.
I pull the covers
off, and drag my sleepy behind to the kitchen to shut off the faucet. I turn
the lights on, and look around in disgust as the cockroaches run for cover. Damn,
I hate this apartment. It is what my mother could afford. It is dirt cheap, at
a whopping four hundred twenty-five dollars a month. I'm almost afraid to look
under the cabinet that holds the sink. I would always find some kind of vermin
down there. I pull it open, and jump back. Phew, nothing there. I shut the
water valve off and straighten up. I look at the time, and go check on my
mother. I can guarantee I will find her passed out on the couch. Sure enough,
there she is sprawled out like a dirty used rag. My mother lives a hard life. Pregnant
at sixteen by some loser...My father. She dropped out of school. My father
dumped her sorry ass because; he did not want to take responsibilities for his
actions. He flat out denied he was the father. In my book, he is the epitome of
a dead beat dad. I have no idea if what my mother told me about my conception
is the absolute truth, but I believe it. I have no other story to compare it
and form my own truth. Do I sound bitter? In reality, I’m not. It is what
it is. I know there has to be something more out there for me. I have
aspirations and dreams of becoming me. First I have to figure out whom, becoming
me will be.
I stare down at my
mother. I do not know if I love, or hate her. I think I tolerate her. I'm
grateful to her. She gave up everything to have me, to keep me. My father
wanted her to have an abortion. Her parents gave her an ultimatum. Her choices
from her “supposedly loving” parental unit were, abort, or live on the streets.
Thankfully, her choice was me. I cannot imagine how horrific it must have been
for her, shuffling from shelter to shelter. Always on guard that no one steal
her measly possessions, or trying to fend off any sexual advances from
perverts. She finally caught a break, and got housing through the local
department of children and family. This is the reason why the rent is so cheap.
We are piss poor, but we make the most of it. My mother is thirty-eight years
old, but chooses to act like a sixteen year old. I've had to become mother to
my half-sister, Bailey. She is eight years old, and I love her to death. She
has blonde ringlets and blue eyes. She has the cutest deep dimples when she
smiles. When she grows up she will be breathtaking.
Bailey's father is
another loser, but he pays his child-support like clockwork. Everyone loves
Bailey. She is sweet tempered, and a ray of sunshine in a dreary, bleak
existence. I wish I was half as beautiful as my little sister. I'm pretty sure
when they were handing out looks; I got the short end of the stick. I'm not
ugly. I'm okay, cute even. I have jet-black hair and eyes the color of
amethyst. I work full time in a coffee shop to help pay bills. I take courses
at night at a community college to enrich my life so that I can eventually be
successful. The blaring of police sirens jars me from my thoughts. Have I
mentioned how much I hate living here? We live in a five story walk up in the
South Bronx. Hunts Pointe, otherwise known as the Pointe, by those that live
here.
I seriously need to
get my mother to her bed before the Chihuahua size rodents gnaw on her.
"Ma, wake
up," I say while shaking her shoulder.
"Reby, is that
you?" she asks.
"Yeah Ma. You
fell asleep on the couch again. Let’s get you to bed," I say.
"You're a good
daughter, Reby. I love you," she mumbles.
"I love you
too, Ma. Lemme help you up," I reply offering my hand to lift her up. I
put my arm around her waist and dragged her to bed. I pull off her clothes as
best I could and left her in just her underwear. I cover her up and head back
to bed.
I could use another
hour of sleep before I need to get up and get Bailey ready for school. I just
laid my head down when my alarm clock went off. I head to take a shower. The
walls are covered by soap scum and mold. I need to spray Clorox before I leave.
I dress for work in an ugly waitress dress. It's a drab yellow ensemble with my
name stitched on the right side. I head to Bailey's room.
"Good morning
munchkin, time to get up. I'll go get breakfast ready while you brush your
teeth," I said.
"I don't want
to get up Reby. I'm sleepy," she said.
"I know, but
you don't want to be late. You have a spelling test today," I said.
“Reby, five more
minutes please," she whined.
"Come on
sleepy head. Times a wasting," I said while tickling her.
She giggled and
sighed, "I'm up, I'm up."
"I got your
outfit ready. It's on the ironing board," I said before heading towards
the kitchen to get her breakfast ready.
Bailey walked into
the kitchen dressed and ready for school. "What's for breakfast,
Reby?" she asked.
I knew that would
be the first thing she asked. She does it every morning even though she knows
the answer. "Pancakes munchkin, it's always pancakes," I reply.
I know it's not the
most nutritious meal, but Bailey only wants pancakes in the morning. I would do
anything just to see her smile. Bailey ate her pancakes and drank a glass of
strawberry milk. I grabbed her book bag and ushered her out the door. I took
her two doors down from our apartment to Mrs. Sullivan, who is kind enough to
drop my little sister off at school.
Mrs. Sullivan is a
lunch monitor at the school. I knock and wait for her to unlock the door.
"Good morning,
Mrs. Sullivan," I greeted.
"Good morning,
Rebel. Bailey, honey come inside. I should be ready soon," she said.
"Thank you,
Mrs. Sullivan," I said while kissing Bailey on her head.
"Rebel, I've
told you a billion times there is no need to thank me. I love the company of
our precious Bailey here,” she said.
"I know but…,"
I said.
She shooed me out
the door, "No buts, now get out of here before your late for work. “Good
luck today on your test munchkin. I guess I'll see you Sunday night," I
said.
"I'm gonna
miss you, Reby," Bailey said.
"You'll only be
gone two days. I want you to have fun with your dad," I said.
"I will, but
it’s not the same without you," she pouted. God, I love my little
munchkin.
"Do well on
your test and when you get back, I'll take you out for ice cream," I said.
"You
promise?" she asked.
"I
promise," I replied. I left Bailey and headed to work. I have a full
schedule today. I work from eight till six then I have school tonight. I get
paid today and half of it will go towards paying bills. The other half I've
been saving for something special. I try to budget my funds and only spend when
it's absolutely necessary. It's not like I make a lot.
I hop on the train
that will take me into Manhattan. When the train stops on forty-second street a
mass of people get on. I look to my right and my gaze lands on the profile of a
guy. I wasn't able to get a good look at him, but what I was able to see
intrigued me. His profile was sorta, kinda cute. I get off at Chambers street
and walk the two long...long blocks to my job. I work at a quaint kitchenette
that serves great food. The plus side of working here is that it's within
walking distance to school.
I get to work with
fifteen minutes to spare. I walk in and greet my best friend, "Hi
Marissa."
"Hey Reby,"
she squeaked.
"What time do
you get off today?” I ask.
“I get off at one
today. I have a class at two today. What about you?” she asks.
“I get off at four.
My only class starts at five-thirty,” I reply.
“So you finish at
around six-fifteen?” she asks.
“Technically class
is supposed to end at that time, but my professor usually lets us go at around
five-thirty,” I reply.
“Cool. You can come
with me to get my belly pierced and possibly another tat,” she says.
“Okay, sounds good.
I don’t have to watch Bailey this weekend. She’s spending the weekend with her
dad.”
“Speaking of Bailey
how is the little munchkin?”
“She’s a sweetheart
as always, but growing so fast,” I reply. I cut our conversation short and got
to work. I have customers sitting at my tables. I hustle to and fro getting
their orders in and on their tables as quickly as I can.
My usual customers
are waiting for me at table five. The rowdy construction workers who come in
here every day for breakfast and to playfully harass me. I make my way towards
there table with pencil and order pad in hand.
“Good morning boys.
What can I get for you today?” I asked.
“Rebel, my love you
can go out with me for starters,” Tony, the cute Hispanics said.
“Sure, right after
you ask your wife’s permission,” I said with a smile.
“You are a cruel,
cruel woman, Rebel,” he said jovially. I ruffle his hair and laughed at his
shenanigans. I took down their order and shortly after I placed their plates on
the table. I refilled their coffee cups a few times. Once they had their fill
of food, Tony raised is hand indicating he wanted the bill. I placed their bill
face down on the table and told them to take their time. The rest of my shift
is brutal. My feet, back and hands hurt from waitressing, but it pays the
bills.