“Welcome, welcome to Caraval! The grandest show on land or by sea. Inside you’ll experience more wonders than most people see in a lifetime. You can sip magic from a cup and buy dreams in a bottle. But before you fully enter into our world, you must remember it’s all a game.”
―
Stephanie Garber,
Caraval
“faithful, resolute, alive, You and the Two Lands that has no enemies; This life is no more than a dream, so seize the day before it passes!” ― Stephanie Thornton, Daughter of the Gods: A Novel of Ancient Egypt
“It's a physical sickness. Etienne. How much I love him.I love Etienne.I love it when he cocks an eyebrow whenever I say something he finds clever or amusing. I love listening to his boots clomp across my bedroom ceiling. I love that the accent over his first name is called an acute accent, and that he has a cute accent.I love that.I love sitting beside him in physics. Brushing against him during lands. His messy handwriting on our worksheets. I love handing him his backpack when class is over,because then my fingers smell like him for the next ten minutes. And when Amanda says something lame, and he seeks me out to exchange an eye roll-I love that,too. I love his boyish laugh and his wrinkled shirts and his ridiculous knitted hat. I love his large brown eyes,and the way he bites his nails,and I love his hair so much I could die.There's only one thing I don't love about him. Her.If I didn't like Ellie before,it's nothing compared to how I feel now. It doesn't matter that I can count how many times we've met on one hand. It's that first image, that's what I can't shake. Under the streeplamp. Her fingers in his hair. Anytime I'm alone, my mind wanders back to that night. I take it further. She touches his chest. I take it further.His bedroom.He slips off her dress,their lips lock, their bodies press,and-oh my God-my temperature rises,and my stomach is sick.I fantasize about their breakup. How he could hurt her,and she could hurt him,and of all the ways I could hurt her back. I want to grab her Parisian-styled hair and yank it so hard it rips from her skull. I want to sink my claws into her eyeballs and scrape.It turns out I am not a nice person.Etienne and I rarely discussed her before, but she's completely taboo now. Which tortures me, because since we've gotten back from winter break, they seem to be having problems again. Like an obsessed stalker,I tally the evenings he spend with me versus the evening he spends with her. I'm winning.” ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
“He looks up.Our eyes lock,and he breaks into a slow smile. My heart beats faster and faster. Almost there.He sets down his book and stands.And then this-the moment he calls my name-is the real moment everything changes.He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend.He is Etienne. Etienne,like the night we met. He is Etienne,he is my friend.He is so much more.Etienne.My feet trip in three syllables. E-ti-enne. E-ti-enne, E-ti-enne. His name coats my tongue like melting chocolate. He is so beautiful, so perfect.My throat catches as he opens his arms and wraps me in a hug.My heart pounds furiously,and I'm embarrassed,because I know he feels it. We break apart, and I stagger backward. He catches me before I fall down the stairs."Whoa," he says. But I don't think he means me falling.I blush and blame it on clumsiness. "Yeesh,that could've been bad."Phew.A steady voice.He looks dazed. "Are you all right?"I realize his hands are still on my shoulders,and my entire body stiffens underneath his touch. "Yeah.Great. Super!""Hey,Anna. How was your break?"John.I forget he was here.Etienne lets go of me carefully as I acknowledge Josh,but the whole time we're chatting, I wish he'd return to drawing and leave us alone. After a minute, he glances behind me-to where Etienne is standing-and gets a funny expression on hs face. His speech trails off,and he buries his nose in his sketchbook. I look back, but Etienne's own face has been wiped blank.We sit on the steps together. I haven't been this nervous around him since the first week of school. My mind is tangled, my tongue tied,my stomach in knots. "Well," he says, after an excruciating minute. "Did we use up all our conversation over the holiday?"The pressure inside me eases enough to speak. "Guess I'll go back to the dorm." I pretend to stand, and he laughs."I have something for you." He pulls me back down by my sleeve. "A late Christmas present.""For me? But I didn't get you anything!"He reaches into a coat pocket and brings out his hand in a fist, closed around something very small. "It's not much,so don't get excited.""Ooo,what is it?""I saw it when I was out with Mum, and it made me think of you-""Etienne! Come on!"He blinks at hearing his first name. My face turns red, and I'm filled with the overwhelming sensation that he knows exactly what I'm thinking. His expression turns to amazement as he says, "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."Still blushing,I hold one out. His fingers brush against my palm, and my hand jerks back as if he were electrified. Something goes flying and lands with a faith dink behind us. I open my eyes. He's staring at me, equally stunned."Whoops," I say.He tilts his head at me."I think...I think it landed back here." I scramble to my feet, but I don't even know what I'm looking for. I never felt what he placed in my hands. I only felt him. "I don't see anything! Just pebbles and pigeon droppings," I add,trying to act normal.Where is it? What is it?"Here." He plucks something tiny and yellow from the steps above him. I fumble back and hold out my hand again, bracing myself for the contact. Etienne pauses and then drops it from a few inches above my hand.As if he's avoiding me,too.It's a glass bead.A banana.He clears his throat. "I know you said Bridgette was the only one who could call you "Banana," but Mum was feeling better last weekend,so I took her to her favorite bead shop. I saw that and thought of you.I hope you don't mind someone else adding to your collection. Especially since you and Bridgette...you know..."I close my hand around the bead. "Thank you.""Mum wondered why I wanted it.""What did you tell her?""That it was for you,of course." He says this like, duh.I beam.The bead is so lightweight I hardly feel it, except for the teeny cold patch it leaves in my palm.” ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
“Our space was a home because we loved each other in it.” ― Barbara Ehrenreich, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Every single parent teetering on poverty does this. We work, we love, we do. And the stress of it all, the exhaustion, leaves us hollowed. Scraped out. Ghosts of our former selves. That’s how I felt for those few days after the accident, like I wasn’t fully connected to the ground when I walked. I knew that at any moment, a breeze could come and blow me away.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“I love you, I whispered to myself. I’m here for you. Reassurance of self-love was all I had.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“She soon learned, though, that giving weight to other people's opinions was creative nihilism; it was like being banished from the Land of No Words and exiled to the Land of All Bullshit.” ― Stephanie Kallos, Broken for You
“I felt like sitting down meant I wasn't doing enough--like the sort of lazy welfare recipient I was assumed to be. Time lounging to read a book felt overly indulgent; almost as though such leisure was reserved for another class. I had to work constantly. I had to prove my worth for receiving government benefits.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Do I need to check up on you guys later? You know the rules.No sleeping in opposite-sex rooms."My face flames,and St. Clair's cheeks grow blotchy. It's true.It's a rule. One that my brain-my rule-loving, rule-abiding brain-conveniently blocked last night. It's also one notoriously ignored by the staff."No,Nate," we say.He shakes his shaved head and goes back in his apartment. But the door opens quickly again,and a handful of something is thrown at us before it's slammed back shut.Condoms.Oh my God, how humiliating.St. Clair's entire face is now bright red as he picks the tiny silver squares off the floor and stuffs them into his coat pockets. We don't speak,don't even look at each other,as we climb the stairs to my floor. My pulse quickens with each step.Will he follow me to my room,or has Nate ruined any chance of that?We reach the landing,and St. Clair scratches his head. "Er...""So...""I'm going to get dressed for bed. Is that all right?" His voice is serious,and he watches my reaction carefully."Yeah.Me too.I'm going to...get ready for bed,too.""See you in a minute?"I swell with relief. "Up there or down here?""Trust me,you don't want to sleep in my bed." He laughs,and I have to turn my face away,because I do,holy crap do I ever. But I know what he means.It's true my bed is cleaner. I hurry to my room and throw on the strawberry pajamas and an Atlanta Film Festival shirt. It's not like I plan on seducing him.Like I'd even know how. St. Clair knocks a few minutes later, and he's wearing his white bottoms with the blue stripes again and a black T-shirt with a logo I recognize as the French band he was listening to earlier. I'm having trouble breathing."Room service," he says.My mind goes...blank. "Ha ha," I say weakly.He smiles and turns off the light. We climb into bed,and it's absolutely positively completely awkward. As usual. I roll over to my edge of the bed. Both of us are stiff and straight, careful not to touch the other person. I must be a masochist to keep putting myself in these situations. I need help. I need to see a shrink or be locked in a padded cell or straitjacketed or something.After what feels like an eternity,St. Clair exhales loudly and shifts. His leg bumps into mine, and I flinch. "Sorry," he says."It's okay.""...""...""Anna?""Yeah?""Thanks for letting me sleep here again. Last night..."The pressure inside my chest is torturous. What? What what what?"I haven't slept that well in ages."The room is silent.After a moment, I roll back over. I slowly, slowly stretch out my leg until my foot brushes his ankle. His intake of breath is sharp. And then I smile,because I know he can't see my expression through the darkness.” ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
“You also," he said, lowering his voice, "haven't yetthanked me for saving you from sitting in the flower bed."She didn't even look up. "It was entirely your fault that I nearly did. If you hadn't sneaked up on me, I wouldn't have been in any danger of landing in the weeds." She glanced briefly at him, a touch of color in her cheeks. "A gentleman would have coughed or something."Vane trapped her gaze, and smiled—a slow, Cynster smile. "Ah," he murmured, his voice very low. He shifted fractionally closer. "But, you see, I'm not a gentleman. I'm a Cynster." As if letting her into some secret, he gently informed her: "We're conquerors—not gentlemen.” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow
“We were expected to live off minimum wage, to work several jobs at varying hours, to afford basic needs while fighting for safe places to leave our children. Somehow nobody saw the work; they saw only the results of living a life that constantly crushed you with its impossibility. It seemed like no matter how much I tried to prove otherwise, “poor” was always associated with dirty.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“When people think of food stamps they don't envision someone like me, someone plain faced and white, someone like the girl they'd known in highschool, someone who'd been quiet but nice, someone like a neighbor, someone like them. Maybe that made them too nervous about their own situation. Maybe they saw in me the chance of their own fragile circumstances, that with one lost job, one divorce, they'd be in the same place as me.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“None of that worked. What my mind needed to know was that someone was there to make it all better. That summer, through gritted teeth, I’d decided that person was me, not a man or a family, and it would only ever be me. I had to stop hoping for someone to come along and love me. I had to do it myself, ducking my head and barreling through anything life brought.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Due to my self-employment, I had to report my income every few months. Earning $50 extra could make my co-pay at day care go up by the same amount. Sometimes it meant losing my childcare grant altogether. There was no incentive or opportunity to save money. The system kept me locked down, scraping the bottom of the barrel, without a plan to climb out of it.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Letting go is never easy. Especially when you can’t see where you’re going to land. But I’ve learned that sometimes, you just have to throw your weight behind the change. Take the chance that you may fall.” ― Stephanie Campbell, Delicate
“Despite being wealthy and having the two story houses of our American dreams, the marbled sink bathrooms, the offices with bay windows looking out at the water, their lives still lacked something. I became fascinated by the things hidden in dark corners and the self help books for hope. Maybe they just had longer hallways and bigger closets to hide the things that scared them.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“The months of poverty, instability, and insecurity created a panic response that would take years to undo.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Single parenting isn’t just being the only one to take care of your kid. It’s not about being able to “tap out” for a break or tag team bath- and bedtime; those were the least of the difficulties I faced. I had a crushing amount of responsibility. I took out the trash. I brought in the groceries I had gone to the store to select and buy. I cooked. I cleaned. I changed out the toilet paper. I made the bed. I dusted. I checked the oil in the car. I drove Mia to the doctor, to her dad's house. I drove her to ballet class if I could find one that offered scholarships and then drove her back home again. I watched every twirl, every jump, and every trip down the slide. It was me who pushed her on the swing, put her to sleep at night, kissed her when she fell. When I sat down, I worried. With the stress gnawing at my stomach, worrying. I worried that my paycheck might not cover bills that month. I worried about Christmas, still four months away. I worried that Mia's cough might become a sinus infection that would keep her out of day care... . I worried that I would have to reschedule work or miss it altogether.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“faithful, resolute, alive, You and the Two Lands that has no enemies; This life is no more than a dream, so seize the day before it passes!” ― Stephanie Thornton, Daughter of the Gods: A Novel of Ancient Egypt
“It's a physical sickness. Etienne. How much I love him.I love Etienne.I love it when he cocks an eyebrow whenever I say something he finds clever or amusing. I love listening to his boots clomp across my bedroom ceiling. I love that the accent over his first name is called an acute accent, and that he has a cute accent.I love that.I love sitting beside him in physics. Brushing against him during lands. His messy handwriting on our worksheets. I love handing him his backpack when class is over,because then my fingers smell like him for the next ten minutes. And when Amanda says something lame, and he seeks me out to exchange an eye roll-I love that,too. I love his boyish laugh and his wrinkled shirts and his ridiculous knitted hat. I love his large brown eyes,and the way he bites his nails,and I love his hair so much I could die.There's only one thing I don't love about him. Her.If I didn't like Ellie before,it's nothing compared to how I feel now. It doesn't matter that I can count how many times we've met on one hand. It's that first image, that's what I can't shake. Under the streeplamp. Her fingers in his hair. Anytime I'm alone, my mind wanders back to that night. I take it further. She touches his chest. I take it further.His bedroom.He slips off her dress,their lips lock, their bodies press,and-oh my God-my temperature rises,and my stomach is sick.I fantasize about their breakup. How he could hurt her,and she could hurt him,and of all the ways I could hurt her back. I want to grab her Parisian-styled hair and yank it so hard it rips from her skull. I want to sink my claws into her eyeballs and scrape.It turns out I am not a nice person.Etienne and I rarely discussed her before, but she's completely taboo now. Which tortures me, because since we've gotten back from winter break, they seem to be having problems again. Like an obsessed stalker,I tally the evenings he spend with me versus the evening he spends with her. I'm winning.” ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
“He looks up.Our eyes lock,and he breaks into a slow smile. My heart beats faster and faster. Almost there.He sets down his book and stands.And then this-the moment he calls my name-is the real moment everything changes.He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend.He is Etienne. Etienne,like the night we met. He is Etienne,he is my friend.He is so much more.Etienne.My feet trip in three syllables. E-ti-enne. E-ti-enne, E-ti-enne. His name coats my tongue like melting chocolate. He is so beautiful, so perfect.My throat catches as he opens his arms and wraps me in a hug.My heart pounds furiously,and I'm embarrassed,because I know he feels it. We break apart, and I stagger backward. He catches me before I fall down the stairs."Whoa," he says. But I don't think he means me falling.I blush and blame it on clumsiness. "Yeesh,that could've been bad."Phew.A steady voice.He looks dazed. "Are you all right?"I realize his hands are still on my shoulders,and my entire body stiffens underneath his touch. "Yeah.Great. Super!""Hey,Anna. How was your break?"John.I forget he was here.Etienne lets go of me carefully as I acknowledge Josh,but the whole time we're chatting, I wish he'd return to drawing and leave us alone. After a minute, he glances behind me-to where Etienne is standing-and gets a funny expression on hs face. His speech trails off,and he buries his nose in his sketchbook. I look back, but Etienne's own face has been wiped blank.We sit on the steps together. I haven't been this nervous around him since the first week of school. My mind is tangled, my tongue tied,my stomach in knots. "Well," he says, after an excruciating minute. "Did we use up all our conversation over the holiday?"The pressure inside me eases enough to speak. "Guess I'll go back to the dorm." I pretend to stand, and he laughs."I have something for you." He pulls me back down by my sleeve. "A late Christmas present.""For me? But I didn't get you anything!"He reaches into a coat pocket and brings out his hand in a fist, closed around something very small. "It's not much,so don't get excited.""Ooo,what is it?""I saw it when I was out with Mum, and it made me think of you-""Etienne! Come on!"He blinks at hearing his first name. My face turns red, and I'm filled with the overwhelming sensation that he knows exactly what I'm thinking. His expression turns to amazement as he says, "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."Still blushing,I hold one out. His fingers brush against my palm, and my hand jerks back as if he were electrified. Something goes flying and lands with a faith dink behind us. I open my eyes. He's staring at me, equally stunned."Whoops," I say.He tilts his head at me."I think...I think it landed back here." I scramble to my feet, but I don't even know what I'm looking for. I never felt what he placed in my hands. I only felt him. "I don't see anything! Just pebbles and pigeon droppings," I add,trying to act normal.Where is it? What is it?"Here." He plucks something tiny and yellow from the steps above him. I fumble back and hold out my hand again, bracing myself for the contact. Etienne pauses and then drops it from a few inches above my hand.As if he's avoiding me,too.It's a glass bead.A banana.He clears his throat. "I know you said Bridgette was the only one who could call you "Banana," but Mum was feeling better last weekend,so I took her to her favorite bead shop. I saw that and thought of you.I hope you don't mind someone else adding to your collection. Especially since you and Bridgette...you know..."I close my hand around the bead. "Thank you.""Mum wondered why I wanted it.""What did you tell her?""That it was for you,of course." He says this like, duh.I beam.The bead is so lightweight I hardly feel it, except for the teeny cold patch it leaves in my palm.” ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
“Our space was a home because we loved each other in it.” ― Barbara Ehrenreich, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Every single parent teetering on poverty does this. We work, we love, we do. And the stress of it all, the exhaustion, leaves us hollowed. Scraped out. Ghosts of our former selves. That’s how I felt for those few days after the accident, like I wasn’t fully connected to the ground when I walked. I knew that at any moment, a breeze could come and blow me away.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“I love you, I whispered to myself. I’m here for you. Reassurance of self-love was all I had.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“She soon learned, though, that giving weight to other people's opinions was creative nihilism; it was like being banished from the Land of No Words and exiled to the Land of All Bullshit.” ― Stephanie Kallos, Broken for You
“I felt like sitting down meant I wasn't doing enough--like the sort of lazy welfare recipient I was assumed to be. Time lounging to read a book felt overly indulgent; almost as though such leisure was reserved for another class. I had to work constantly. I had to prove my worth for receiving government benefits.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Do I need to check up on you guys later? You know the rules.No sleeping in opposite-sex rooms."My face flames,and St. Clair's cheeks grow blotchy. It's true.It's a rule. One that my brain-my rule-loving, rule-abiding brain-conveniently blocked last night. It's also one notoriously ignored by the staff."No,Nate," we say.He shakes his shaved head and goes back in his apartment. But the door opens quickly again,and a handful of something is thrown at us before it's slammed back shut.Condoms.Oh my God, how humiliating.St. Clair's entire face is now bright red as he picks the tiny silver squares off the floor and stuffs them into his coat pockets. We don't speak,don't even look at each other,as we climb the stairs to my floor. My pulse quickens with each step.Will he follow me to my room,or has Nate ruined any chance of that?We reach the landing,and St. Clair scratches his head. "Er...""So...""I'm going to get dressed for bed. Is that all right?" His voice is serious,and he watches my reaction carefully."Yeah.Me too.I'm going to...get ready for bed,too.""See you in a minute?"I swell with relief. "Up there or down here?""Trust me,you don't want to sleep in my bed." He laughs,and I have to turn my face away,because I do,holy crap do I ever. But I know what he means.It's true my bed is cleaner. I hurry to my room and throw on the strawberry pajamas and an Atlanta Film Festival shirt. It's not like I plan on seducing him.Like I'd even know how. St. Clair knocks a few minutes later, and he's wearing his white bottoms with the blue stripes again and a black T-shirt with a logo I recognize as the French band he was listening to earlier. I'm having trouble breathing."Room service," he says.My mind goes...blank. "Ha ha," I say weakly.He smiles and turns off the light. We climb into bed,and it's absolutely positively completely awkward. As usual. I roll over to my edge of the bed. Both of us are stiff and straight, careful not to touch the other person. I must be a masochist to keep putting myself in these situations. I need help. I need to see a shrink or be locked in a padded cell or straitjacketed or something.After what feels like an eternity,St. Clair exhales loudly and shifts. His leg bumps into mine, and I flinch. "Sorry," he says."It's okay.""...""...""Anna?""Yeah?""Thanks for letting me sleep here again. Last night..."The pressure inside my chest is torturous. What? What what what?"I haven't slept that well in ages."The room is silent.After a moment, I roll back over. I slowly, slowly stretch out my leg until my foot brushes his ankle. His intake of breath is sharp. And then I smile,because I know he can't see my expression through the darkness.” ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
“You also," he said, lowering his voice, "haven't yetthanked me for saving you from sitting in the flower bed."She didn't even look up. "It was entirely your fault that I nearly did. If you hadn't sneaked up on me, I wouldn't have been in any danger of landing in the weeds." She glanced briefly at him, a touch of color in her cheeks. "A gentleman would have coughed or something."Vane trapped her gaze, and smiled—a slow, Cynster smile. "Ah," he murmured, his voice very low. He shifted fractionally closer. "But, you see, I'm not a gentleman. I'm a Cynster." As if letting her into some secret, he gently informed her: "We're conquerors—not gentlemen.” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow
“We were expected to live off minimum wage, to work several jobs at varying hours, to afford basic needs while fighting for safe places to leave our children. Somehow nobody saw the work; they saw only the results of living a life that constantly crushed you with its impossibility. It seemed like no matter how much I tried to prove otherwise, “poor” was always associated with dirty.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“When people think of food stamps they don't envision someone like me, someone plain faced and white, someone like the girl they'd known in highschool, someone who'd been quiet but nice, someone like a neighbor, someone like them. Maybe that made them too nervous about their own situation. Maybe they saw in me the chance of their own fragile circumstances, that with one lost job, one divorce, they'd be in the same place as me.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“None of that worked. What my mind needed to know was that someone was there to make it all better. That summer, through gritted teeth, I’d decided that person was me, not a man or a family, and it would only ever be me. I had to stop hoping for someone to come along and love me. I had to do it myself, ducking my head and barreling through anything life brought.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Due to my self-employment, I had to report my income every few months. Earning $50 extra could make my co-pay at day care go up by the same amount. Sometimes it meant losing my childcare grant altogether. There was no incentive or opportunity to save money. The system kept me locked down, scraping the bottom of the barrel, without a plan to climb out of it.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Letting go is never easy. Especially when you can’t see where you’re going to land. But I’ve learned that sometimes, you just have to throw your weight behind the change. Take the chance that you may fall.” ― Stephanie Campbell, Delicate
“Despite being wealthy and having the two story houses of our American dreams, the marbled sink bathrooms, the offices with bay windows looking out at the water, their lives still lacked something. I became fascinated by the things hidden in dark corners and the self help books for hope. Maybe they just had longer hallways and bigger closets to hide the things that scared them.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“The months of poverty, instability, and insecurity created a panic response that would take years to undo.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
“Single parenting isn’t just being the only one to take care of your kid. It’s not about being able to “tap out” for a break or tag team bath- and bedtime; those were the least of the difficulties I faced. I had a crushing amount of responsibility. I took out the trash. I brought in the groceries I had gone to the store to select and buy. I cooked. I cleaned. I changed out the toilet paper. I made the bed. I dusted. I checked the oil in the car. I drove Mia to the doctor, to her dad's house. I drove her to ballet class if I could find one that offered scholarships and then drove her back home again. I watched every twirl, every jump, and every trip down the slide. It was me who pushed her on the swing, put her to sleep at night, kissed her when she fell. When I sat down, I worried. With the stress gnawing at my stomach, worrying. I worried that my paycheck might not cover bills that month. I worried about Christmas, still four months away. I worried that Mia's cough might become a sinus infection that would keep her out of day care... . I worried that I would have to reschedule work or miss it altogether.” ― Stephanie Land, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
