A Normal Life

My cheeks hurt as I force myself to smile. “Thank you for your patronage!” I call with false cheer as I bow, only to get a mumbled reply, drowned out by the pouring rain.

The door closes as I straighten back up, and I only allow myself to stop smiling once I turn away from the client’s house, just in case he might be looking through the windows. My lips fall into a frustrated grimace.

I’d rush to my car, but I’m already soaked to the bone after spending almost five full minutes waiting in the rain for that asshole to actually answer his doorbell, so there’s no point. My long, black hair is sticking to my forehead and my back, weighed down by the water, and my glasses are dotted with raindrops, making my vision blurry as I fumble with the car door handle.

At least, my jacket hides the white t-shirt I’m wearing underneath it, but then again, maybe the guy would’ve actually tipped me if he’d gotten a look at my drenched top.

Dick.

I sigh as I almost collapse into my seat, anchoring my cellphone to the phone stand, the delivery app already searching for my next, certainly lackluster-paying job.

I put the keys in the contact, and start the car, but don’t drive off quite yet, letting the AC blow against my wet clothes for a moment. I stare out into the pitch black night, only illuminated by my car’s headlights and the lights of the house behind me.

I look at the digital clock in my dashboard. Nearly midnight. I yawn.

I still don’t move.

I let my forehead drop against the steering wheel with a dull thunk, and sigh tiredly.

It’s dark. It’s cold. It’s late. The perfect trio for a shitty night of work. You’d think that the pay would at least be good when the conditions are bad, but of course not.

That would be in a world where God doesn’t hate Hidaka Kiko.

Instead, I live in an area where people have figured out that they don’t need to tip, because the only people desperate enough to work for delivery apps are desperate enough to work for no tip.

I shiver in my wet clothes as I force myself to sit up straight again. No matter how I feel about the matter, I don’t have a choice. The desperate don’t have that luxury.

I blink as my phone rings, and I grimace as I see who’s calling. Shit.

I force myself to smile as I answer. “Hey Mom!” I say happily.

“Hello, Kiko. Are you still out doing deliveries?” She asks, her voice sounding slightly shaky through the phone line, and I force my smile to remain affixed to my lips.

“Yup! You don’t have to wait on me, Mom. I probably won’t be home for a while yet.”

The line is silent for a moment, and I hold my breath. I don’t want to have this conversation with her right now. About how late it is, and how bad the weather is, and how about I just come in early tonight?

“I see.” She finally replies, and I force myself not to let out a sigh of relief. “I’m about to head to bed myself- be careful on the road, Kiko. I heard the rain is only going to get worse…”

I look out my windshield, and grimace. Worse than this? “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Goodnight Mom.”

“Goodnight, Kiko. I love you.” She says softly, and my heart twists in my chest.

“Yeah. Love you too.” I say, before hanging up, and sagging in my seat.

I stare out at the rainy road waiting for me, and try to convince myself that the increasing volume of the pounding of the rain is only in my head.

That’s enough of a break.

My car rattles as I drive off into the night, and I grimace at the sound.

Something’s wrong with it, and I need to get it repaired, but I can’t spare the cash for that right now.

My mom’s patience is about to run out with me. And if it isn’t, then it should.

Barely employed, barely educated, barely making it by- I was already a failure when I barely managed to graduate high school, and I’ve been proving what a stroke of luck that had been ever since.

At 25 years old, I’m still leeching off my mom like a parasite while all my high school friends I no longer talk to move up in life.

I try to make up for the drain I put on her by paying her rent on my room, but in actuality, I’m mostly paying her back for money she’s lent me in the past.

Hell, I still owe her for the car I’m currently driving.

I need to actually start paying her rent, and soon. She might not show it, but I can tell her own finances are getting tighter, and eventually, she’ll either have to lower her quality of life for me, or kick me out.

And I hate both of those options.

She doesn’t deserve such a failure of a daughter, but she made due, working hard to give me opportunities I failed to take advantage of.

And now here I am. Complaining.

I grit my teeth, my hands tightening around the steering wheel, before I force myself to let out a slow breath.

Getting angry is useless. Crying in frustration too.

I won’t be changing anything tonight. All I can do is try my best.

Even if my best isn’t very good.

And so, with that familiar refrain on my mind, I drive off into the night, narrowing my eyes to see through the unilluminated countryside road through the pouring rain-

I blink as my phone dings, hope surging in my heart as I go to accept the new order-

Only to groan as I see that it’s a text from the customer whose house I’ve just left.

‘Sorry to bother you, but my food is cold. Why didn’t you carry it in a thermal bag to my door?’

I stare at the words on my screen for a moment, dumbfounded.

Your food’s cold? The food you left to wait outside in the rain for five minutes? I wonder how that could’ve happened!?

I groan as I thump my head on the backboard of my seat. I know I should’ve used the bag- We’re always supposed to use a thermal bag, but using the bag outside while it’s raining means I have to stand in the rain while unzipping it! The food would’ve been fine if he’d just answered his door promptly instead of wasting both of our time! Like, you ordered food! Aren’t you hungry!? Why aren’t you waiting by the door for it to get there?

But I can’t tell him that. Not only because it would be admitting that I fucked up, or because it would be insulting a customer, but mostly because I need to keep my ratings up. Can’t have an unhappy customer tanking them and impacting the rate at which I’m offered deliveries.

That’s the same reason I can’t just ignore him either, even though I really want to.

I lean forward and start painstakingly typing out a response with my shaking index finger, doing my best to keep the digit stable through the many rhythmic bumps underneath my wheels, almost mirroring the way my eyes bounce between my screen and the obscured road. I grit my teeth in annoyance. Goddamn country roads.

‘I’m so sorry to hear that.' I begin typing, but almost as soon as I start, I pause, worrying my lip as I try to think of the right words to limit the damage as much as possible. But it’s hard to find the words when most of my focus is on driving.

I click my tongue, annoyed. Get a grip, Kiko. Your mom works two jobs. You can write a text message.

I look down the hill I’ve just crested. The road is clear of any other drivers this late.

I give my phone my full focus as I start rolling down the hill. I can't make his food hot, but I can shift the blame away from me. Is that a shitty thing to do on my part? 

Maybe so. But I don't have the luxury of self-righteousness.

'This is a common issue with that particular restaurant.' I type painstakingly, carefully trying to balance how obviously I'm deflecting blame-

My right front wheel hits a pothole- hard. My teeth chatter together as my head sinks in between my shoulders for a moment as my car bounces lightly, the bottom of it hitting the road as we land back on earth-

Something underneath my car breaks with a screech of rending metal, and my stomach sinks into my shoes. What broke? The suspension? The axle? Both!?

The car starts swerving as I grip the steering wheel with both hands, but it isn’t responding to my commands as I try to retake control of the vehicle.

I hit the brakes, but the car barely slows on the rain-slick road. Worse, it starts picking up speed as gravity decides to start being a bitch too. Still, I lean forward and put as much of my weight on the brake pedal as I can-

I hit another goddamn pothole, and this time the car jumps.

I only have a moment to see the light-dotted puddles on the road be replaced by the stars in the sky before my head slams into the steering wheel once more. Then, I know nothing.

I’m sorry…

I wish I could offer you a choice…

But the desperate do not get such luxury…