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I munch on a single fry, eating each of them one by one to avoid looking like a pig. I can't go shoving food in my mouth when Diego's usual dates probably don't eat at all. He's sitting across from me, taking a bite out of his dollar-menu burger. I assured him he could order more than just the cheapest thing on the menu, but he wasn't having any of it. He was happy with his simple cheeseburger meal.

This is a pretty small McDonalds. It's two storey's, but both levels are only a few square feet. We're on the second floor, at a table in the corner. The only other people here are a couple and their two kids, both running up and down the corridor to get their energy out.

"So how long have you been working at Benny's?" Diego asks, swallowing his food.

"Uhm... about two years. It's probably less than that, but it feels like forever."

"Were you a waitress before that, too?"

"Yep. I've been waitressing for 12 years now — since I was 14."

"Oh, fuck. That's been a while, then."

"Too long," I nod. "Have you always worked for your family?"

"Yeah. Well... I didn't start working there until my early twenties. Before that, I was just partying."

"That must've been nice." I wish I could've done that.

"Mostly just stupid," he admits. "I was a reckless kid."

"I'm not going to lie, I've seen articles about you before."

"Bad ones?"

"Not good ones," I chuckle. "Just a lot of fighting, really."

"Yeah, I don't really have a good track record, do I?" he takes a sip of his drink. He doesn't seem bothered by the conversation, so I dig deeper.

"What changed?" I ask. I'm not sure if something has, but it seems like it. He's rarely in the news anymore.

"Just family stuff," he shrugs. "Something happened to one of my sisters. She went through something pretty rough, and I felt kind of guilty for not being there. I guess I just realised I had to be there for my family more, you know?"

"That's pretty nice of you."

"It's the right thing to do."

"You have a few sisters, don't you?"

"Four — one older, three younger."

"You're the only boy?"

"Yeah, but I was always pretty close with my dad, so it didn't bother me much growing up/."

"I've noticed that. You two come in together a lot."

"Well, we work together," he says. "But we're pretty close, anyway. He's my best friend."

"Really?" I scowl. "Your dad?"

"Yep," he laughs. "I know it's strange, but we just get along well."

"Do you hang out like best friends?" I wonder. I can't imagine being that close to a parent.

"I'd say so. We watch a lot of sports together, and we go on drives pretty much every week."

"On drives?"

"Yeah, we both like cars, so we just... go out into the country and drive around."

"Recklessly, I assume?"

"Sometimes we like to go fast, yeah," he admits. "But we mostly just chat."

"That's so weird to me," I say. "Why your dad?"

"He's always just been there for me, you know? He set a great example for me, and I look up to him more than I probably should. I mean, if I turn out to be even half as great as he is, I'd be happy."

"That's so good," I smile. I wish I had that. "You're lucky to have him."

"For sure," he nods. "What's your family like?"

"Oh, it's just me," I wave him off. There's no way I can tell him about the girls. "I've never met my dad, and my mum passed away a few years ago."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago," I assure him. And I mean it. It really is okay. I've learnt to live with it. "I have a sister, but we don't speak anymore."

"That's..." he furrows his brows. "Sad."

"It's okay." It's definitely for the best.

"What about the other girl at the restaurant — the one you were with today?"

"That's Karla," I tell him. She's technically Hayley's aunt, but I don't want to bring that up. "She's my best friend. She actually got me the job at the restaurant."

"That's nice of her."

"Very," I nod. "What about you and Roman Sainte? You two must've been friends for ages."

"Way too long," he laughs. "I love that guy. We can just hang out watching sports all day."

"Is that what you do in your free time?"

"Mostly, yeah. I go to the gym a bit, too, but I'd happily postpone that if there's a game on."

"What kind of game?" I don't really care about sports, but I have to be polite."

"Anything, really. Usually football or basketball."

"Nice," I nod. I have no idea what else to ask about that. I worry the conversation is going to fizzle out, but Diego picks it right back up.

"How about you? What do you do outside of work?"

"Nothing, really," I shrug. Nothing besides raise two children and run the household. "I don't have much free time."

"Not on the weekend?"

"I'm usually still working." That's a lie. I don't work on the weekends. I keep that time free to spend time with the kids, even If it's just grocery shopping.

"What about after work throughout the week?" he asks. "You must at least watch Netflix like the rest of us."

I've never watched Netflix in my life. I don't have an account. I don't even have Wi-Fi at my place.

"I used to cook," I respond. "I haven't done it properly in a while, but I actually got accepted into culinary school after I graduated."

"Oh, wow. That's cool."

"I didn't end up going, but it was nice knowing that I could."

"Why didn't you go?"

"Family stuff," I shrug. Someone had to stop my mother from becoming homeless.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure you would've made a great chef."

"Thanks," I smile. My food is almost finished by now. There are just two more nuggets left, but part of me wishes I had ordered more. It's been a while since I've out, let alone on a date. I know we're just at McDonald's, but I'm in good company. Nobody ever really asks me about myself. When I talk to people nowadays it's mostly about the kids. I've never had to talk much about my life before — to consider my own interests and history. And I don't mind it. It's nice to feel important... like I'm actually my own person, rather than just a mother.

"Your phone's ringing," Diego's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry?" I ask.

"Your phone is ringing," he motions down to the device on the table. The screen is flashing with Karla's name. I check the time. It's only 5:30. There's no way Karla is there yet, but I doubt she'll be there after 6.

"Do you mind if I take this?"

"Go for it," he nods.

I bring the phone up to my ear. I search for somewhere private, but there's nowhere. The toilets are downstairs, and with the other family on this level, this is probably the quietest spot I have access to.

"Hi, this is Amelia," I tell the person on the other end.

"Hi, this is Karen from Huts Point Daycare. I'm sorry to interrupt you so suddenly, but it seems we have a bit of a situation developing with Penelope."

"What's going on?"

"She's been coughing quite heavily all afternoon, and she's just come inside from playtime and wasn't breathing properly. She's gasping for air and is starting to turn blue."

"What?" My heart sinks. "What do you mean?"

"It's protocol here for us to call an ambulance, but wanted to confirm with you if that's-."

"Yes!" I blurt. "Call an ambulance!"

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"Yes! Are you serious? Call an ambulance!" My kid is not fucking dying over money — money that I now have. Our conversation ends quickly, and I immediately start gathering my things.

"Is everything okay?" Diego asks.

"No, no. I'm sorry, I have to go," I jump out of my seat.

"Let me at least walk you to your car."

"I don't have a car. I caught the subway."

"Then let me drive you."

"No, it's fine," I shove my leftover food into the garbage bin.

"Seriously, let me drive you. I don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely."


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