“I’m not ashamed to ask for help. I was always told, a closed mouth don’t get fed. Thanks anyway though,” she replied, walking away.
Brix took his comment a little offensively. She had never been ashamed to ask for help, and she wouldn’t start. Shemel didn’t mean to offend her. He figured the joke would make her laugh, but it had not. Now instead of holding a conversation he was actually interested in having, he was watching as Brix switched away.
“Damn she was fine,” he said to himself, before heading up to the register.
He only ran in the store to grab a few things and it had taken longer than expected. His cousins and best friend were outside waiting on him, and he already knew they were going to be talking shit once he made it back to the car. On the other end of the store, Brix picked out a few sets of oils, that she didn’t need, and made her way to the front. If there was anything she loved more than baking, it was smell goods. No matter how stressful of a day she had, her oil diffuser and peaceful room gave her a good energy. It was something she grew to love after her dad passed, and it helped her through many nights of crying.
She paid for her items using her mom’s food stamp card and did a little praise dance inside for the government assistance. To her, the more money she could save toward bills, the less she had to stress. The free money was definitely going to help multiply her income by the end of tomorrow. If Brix didn’t know anything else, she knew how to make shit happen. Hustle to her wasn’t just about getting up every day and going to her job. It was about having ambition and a plan. She didn’t plan to work at the bank for the rest of her life, but for right now, it was what was bringing in the money, alongside her other profits. If she wasn’t baking or at the bank, she was helping people budget their money. It might sound crazy, but she knew what she was doing. If she were to ever go to college, Brix told herself she would major in business and accounting. That was a dream of hers that had been put on hold, but she still found a way to live it out.
* * * * *
Pulling into the driveway, she yawned once more before pulling the groceries from the back seat. She heard the slow jams playing before she could even walk in the house and knew her mama had already started on her orders. Although she was disabled, Mrs. Carla still did as much as her body would let her. The accident had caused her so much nerve damage and anxiety; there was no way she could go back to work. She tried and it just wasn’t happening. The long hours she used to pull with being a nurse, were a no go now.
“Look at you in here grooving,” Brix said, placing the bags on the counter.
“You know once those old jams come on, you can’t help but to groove,” she smiled while twirling Brix around by her hand.
Their relationship over the years had grown stronger than before. When the man of the house died, so did a piece of them. When times got hard, they leaned on one another and pushed each other to be stronger than the day before. It wasn’t always easy, and being that he wasn’t Brix’s real father, it made her love for him expand even more. He was her real father in her eyes, and that’s all that mattered.
“How many you mixed up so far?” Brix asked as she peeked inside the oven window.
“Just the first two. I’m working on the cupcakes now,” her mother replied.
“Why does a little girl need fifty cupcakes and two sheet cakes anyway?” Brix asked.
A lady her mom used to work with had placed the order for her granddaughter’s sixth birthday party, and Brix could not understand what six-year-old needed that much cake. She was going to do the job, regardless of how big the order, but still. She figured you could never have too much.
“You’re asking the wrong person. Ms. Tamika has been spoiling that child since she was born. We couldn’t walk anywhere on her floor without getting stopped by her to see a picture of her grandbaby,” she replied, smiling.
“Well this grandbaby of hers sure better be smiling tomorrow. I’s tired,” she said, yawning.
“Don’t come in here yawning now. I was doing good,” her mama said, swatting her with the dishrag.
The two stayed up together until Mrs. Carla got tired and went to bed. Brix was still up whipping though. Once she finished icing the cupcakes and flipping the sheets onto cardboard, she began her next order. She had turned from her mom’s old tunes and was now listening to “We Could Be Better” by Janine and the Mixtape. She shook her head thinking of the last time she felt any type of feelings for a guy. Her ex-boyfriend, Drew, used to be the love of her life, or so she thought. They had been dating since high school and some years after that. It wasn’t until her father died that the relationship began to feel more one-sided and lonely for Brix.