Aria

I sat on the bed of the motel room, staring aimlessly at the shopping bags full of clothes I had bought, as well as a single bag from the grocery store. Where was I supposed to put all of this?
I sighed in frustration, feeling a sudden urge to scream. I couldn't keep doing this forever. Eventually, I was going to run out money to pay for my motel room, as well as food. The last thing I wanted was to end up on the street, but it seemed like that was the only direction I was headed towards.

I ripped a piece of paper from the bag which held my groceries, tearing it to tiny pieces in my misery.

I realized that first, I needed to find a permanent home. In order to keep that permanent home, I needed a job. In order to get a job, I needed to apply for one. To apply for a job, I had to have skill. I had gone to college, right?

I racked my brain for a few minutes, trying to picture myself sitting in a college lecture room, but I couldn't. Had I really not gone to college? Shouldn't that be something I could remember?

God. I needed a drink.

Yes, perhaps a drink would help me relax so that I could figure out what I was going to do. I nodded, patting myself on the back for the idea, and started laying out the clothes that I had bought recently. I had purchased a couple pairs of jeans, some plain t-shirts, one casual yet classy black lace dress, and three pairs of shoes. I had been trying to keep my budget to a minimum as I shopped, knowing I would need the majority of my money to pay for my motel room.

I picked up the black dress and the pair of heels from the floor and changed into them, heading towards the full body mirror. I cringed, missing my sixteen year old figure. As much as I tried to push it away, the past seemed to keep bugging me. It didn't matter; I could barely remember a thing after the age of sixteen.

I brushed my hair out and grabbed the bag of makeup I had purchased while searching for clothes. There were many expensive brands that had been displayed on the shelves, and it baffled me that anyone would want to pay so much for one small bottle of foundation of concealer. Satisfied with my drug store priced makeup, I applied it to my face.

The walk to the bar wasn't too long, though I had to remain cautious of the cars that whizzed by carelessly. The traffic was terrible tonight, so crossing the streets was a tedious job. Once I safely reached the other side of the street where the bar was, I relaxed, knowing I'd gotten past the worst part.

As I walked to the bar, my mind raced. I was thinking of many things, but primarily how I would obtain an occupation. How was I supposed to find myself a job if I knew nothing about myself? Had I even gone to college? I frowned at the thought. I must have gone to college. I had to have. But what if I hadn't? Where had I been before now, if I had no job to support myself? What had my income been? Had I even had an income? And still the golden question prodded in my mind; how had I gotten all the money in the brown, leather backpack?

All my thoughts cleared as I approached the entrance to the bar. A lady in a skimpy black dress, with a little too much makeup and bleach blonde hair stood in front of the entrance, chewing boldly on a piece of bubble gum.

"Hi." I smiled, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. I blinked afterward, unsure of what I was supposed to do. What, did I need her permission to enter the bar?

"You don't look too sketchy." she spat, eyeing me up and down. I squirmed, feeling uncomfortable under her stare. "Go on, then." She motioned towards the door, stepping to the side so I could enter. I gave her a weird look and walked past her, entering the bar.

I realized upon entrance that this was not a calm, classy bar, where people arrived in suits and drink wine rather than beer. Instead, people were grinding against the bar counters, and I spotted a few couples making out in the corner. Or perhaps they weren't even together, maybe strangers. I shuddered at the sight, prepared to leave, but then remembered just how much I was craving a drink, something to relax my mind.

I spotted a large bar counter and made my way towards in, sitting down on an empty bar stool. I waved politely at the male bartender to get his attention, briefly studying his appearance. He had dark blonde hair, and when he turned, my eyes connected with his deep blue orbs.

"And how may I be of service, honey?" the bartender winked, licking his lips as he scanned my face. My eyes narrowed when I noticed his eyes lingering around my chest area. I snapped my fingers in his face with a scowl, gaining his attention.

"Eyes up here, kid." I snapped. He smirked. "Get me a strawberry martini."

"Of course, babe." The bartender, whose name tag read Hank, winked, walking off to make my drink. I rolled my eyes, already unsure about coming to the bar in the first place. I didn't appreciate how flirty Hank was being towards me, especially because he looked like he was a teenager fresh out of high school.

I rested my elbow on the cool counter, and my chin in my hand, kicking my legs back and forth on the table as I waited for my drink.

To my alarm, a purse was slapped onto the counter beside me, followed by a woman in her mid forties plopping down on the bar stool beside me. I stared at her curiously, realizing that she was completely worn out. She had tired dark bags under her eyes, and the small smile she sent me was dull.

Say something, my inner conscience prodded. Say something to her. "Hello." I blurted in a high voice, startling her and myself at my suddenness.

"Uh, hello." the woman nodded at me, giving me a brighter smile. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I nodded hesitantly. "I'm okay."

The woman laughed, pushing her hair back. I noticed there was no ring of her left ring finger. "You're not from here, obviously. 'You alright' means 'how are you'." To a bartender, she shouted, "get me a beer!"

"Oh," I laughed sheepishly. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"Well, that's a dumb question." the woman snorted. "It's obvious that I'm not too great, considering that I haven't had a good sleep in days."

"Oh," I frowned. "Well if it helps you feel any better, I haven't been having the easiest time with my life, either."

At that moment, Hank came back with a pinkish drink in one hand, as well as a beer in the other. He set the beer bottle in front of the woman and the strawberry martini in front of me, winking and eyeing my cleavage again before sauntering off. I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief, before taking a sip of my martini. I cringed immediately at the taste of the alcohol burning down my throat. Maybe I wasn't much a of drinker.

"Wow, that guy is all over you." the woman laughed from beside me. "You should go after him."

I was by far thankful that the dim lit bar hid my blush. "I'll pass." I said. "I'm dealing with a lot right now, and the last thing I need is a man who looks like he's twenty years younger than me."

"Nonsense!" the woman waved me off. "You look like you're in your early thirties."

I rolled my eyes, a smile taking over my lips. I couldn't help but feel a bit more confident at the compliment. "Thanks." I laughed. "You look great, as well."

"Yeah, right." the woman scoffed. "I've been so stressed lately, with my job and all, it's clear that I don't look good. You must know, the stress of having a job, right?"

I cast my head down shamefully, then looked back up at her. "The truth is, I don't have a job." I answered honestly. I watched the woman's eyebrows furrow. "I was laid off about a month ago, and now I'm struggling, living in a motel, with barely any money." It wasn't completely a lie.

"Oh, poor you." the woman frowned. "What was your previous job?"

I gulped. This was it. It was time to lie as much as it took to make a convincing story. "I used to be a teacher." I lied. "It was such a great job, but unfortunately, I lost it."

"What subject did you teach?" the woman asked, sipping her beer.

"I taught English." I answered smoothly. "It was, and always will be my favorite subject."

"Oh, English." the woman repeatedly teasingly. "I hated English with a passion. Maths was always my strongest subject."

I grinned, shaking my head. "And I always hated maths." The woman laughed, and I did, too. "So, what do you do? What's your job?"


"I'm a principal at Prince William Secondary Academy." She answered. "School is starting in a month, and I've just divorced my ex-husband. He was the one taking care of our children. But now that he's gone off with his side whore, I've got no one to babysit my kids and it's stressing me out."

"Have you tried looking for a babysitter?" I suggested, stirring my drink. "Oh, and I'm Aria, by the way."

"Gemma." the woman smiled. "And yes, I have tried looking for babysitters, but I haven't been fond of any of them. I need my children to be with someone that I trust."

"That's understandable." I nodded. " I can definitely see where you're coming from."

"Yeah." Gemma grimaced. "It's just, everyone who applies for the job is either too young or only in it for the money. I need someone who actually cares about the well-being of my children."

"And I would agree with you." I said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Just keep looking. I'm sure you'll find someone."

"Time is running out." Gemma sighed. "I'm worried that I won't find anyone."

"Well, what are they like, your kids?" I asked, trying to stop her moping.

I smiled when her eyes brightened, just at the thought of them. It didn't take me more than that to know that she was a loving mother. "I have two kids, a boy and a girl. The boy is three, named Jack, and the girl is two, named Jamie. They're both incredibly sweet kids, and so easy to handle, but I just can't find the right person to handle them."

Something in that moment tugged in my chest, an aching familiarity to the situation that Gemma was explaining to me. like I had been in her shoes before. Like I had been with kids before. It frustrated me than as much as I jogged my memory, the last thing I remembered was the last day of school of junior year.

"I know what it's like." I blurted out by mistake, caught up in my thoughts. My eyes widened as I realized what I had just said.



"You do?" Gemma questioned. "Have you worked with kids before?"

At that point, I no longer had control over the lies flying out of my mouth. "I used to babysit for my neighbors all the time. It's a pleasure, you know, working with kids, especially when they're younger, because then you get to watch them grow into these beautiful people and know that you've played a part in helping them become the people they are."

All the while, Gemma studied my face carefully, a smile slowly working it's way onto her face.
"I guess babysitting children really influenced me to teach. One time, a girl I used to babysit asked me how to spell a word, and soon I was teaching her the entire alphabet. The best part was that she listened. I never went to college, but the mother of the children I babysat saw that I had a love for teaching and pulled some strings to get me a job at the school she worked at as a secretary. Unfortunately, when the times got tough, I was the first one they cut off, mainly because I hadn't gotten a degree, which is honestly complete bullshit, because I was in love with my job, and I adored those kids more than any teacher in the school."

I was indeed, a stellar liar.

By the time I had finished speaking, a huge grin had spread across Gemma's lips, and I was a bit worried that her jaw might just fall off. A grin that wide looked painful.

"What?" I laughed nervously, realizing that I had just ranted out a huge lie. But if it was a lie, why did it seem so real?

"Aria, I think I've found my new babysitter." Gemma continued to stare at me, the grin never leaving her lips. I narrowed my eyes at her, tilting my head in confusion. She looked at me with hopeful eyes, and then I suddenly realized who she was talking about.

"Me?" I pointed to myself, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Yes!" Gemma exclaimed, nearly knocking her beer over from her excitement. "You're perfect for the job! You're mature, kind, sweet, passionate about kids, and you seem to be very intelligent." She listed off qualities on her fingers.

I tried not to let my mouth hang, but I was more than shocked that this opportunity had come so quick. What were the odds that I walked into a bar with only a bag of money and came out with a job?

"So, what do you say?" Gemma bounced in her chair excitedly. "You can even stay at my place, if you want. That way, you won't have to keep living in a stinky motel room. I bet that sucks."

Gemma had to be one of the coolest principals in London.

"Y-yes." I exhaled. "Yes, thank you. Oh my god, thank you."

"No, thank you!" Gemma laughed, amused by my flustered reaction. "You don't realize how much stress you've taken off my shoulder."

"And you don't realize what a relief you've given me." I replied. Gemma grinned, and surprised me by wrapping me in a bone crushing hug. I hugged her back, happy tears pooling in my eyes.
Something told me that this was the start to finding out about the life I had forgotten. I had just conquered step one.

---

Gemma kindly drove me to my motel to gather what little items of possession that I had, sharing a delightful conversation with me the entire way. We got to know each other a bit better, such as I learned that her ex-husband was a dick. She ranted for a good five minutes about everything terrible he had done, including coming home drunk, not being around for the kids, and to top it all off, cheating on her behind her back with his assistant. Gemma swore that she was over him by the time he suggested they get divorced.

We discovered that we both had a peculiar liking for Nutella, and a hatred for pickles. We shared a legitimate conversation about everything wrong with pickles and everything heavenly about Nutella. I also learned that she had a younger brother, who lived just outside of London.

"Do you have any siblings?" she asked me, once we left the motel with my things in the back of the car.

Immediately, I got a feeling a nausea at the thought of a sibling. I squinted my eyes, trying to remember. An image of a brunette haired girl with bright blue eyes, holding my hand as we ran down the streets of a shabby neighborhood fazed over my mind. My jaws tightened. I remembered.

"Yes." I answered, clenching my teeth. "She died in a car accident. Her name was Scarlett."
Scarlett, my older sister. Memories started flooding back with every second. I remembered the little amount of time we had gotten to spend together, before she started coming home with odd glass bottle in her hand, that I soon learned were bottle of beer. I remembered the apartment smelling like cigarettes, because her room was filled with them. I remembered our father shouting at her, our father...my father...

"I'm so sorry." Gemma squeezed my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts before I could remember any more. Something about the thought of my father made me feel sick. Maybe it was better that I didn't remember. "I know what it's like to lose someone you love."

"Yeah." I sighed quietly, pressing a smile to my lips before turning to face the window. How could I have forgotten the death of my sister? I must have gotten a good knock in the head to have forgotten that.

Gemma pulled into a gated community, punching a number into the code box. It made a sound of approval, and the mechanical gates opened to us. I stared in awe at the houses that we drove by, wondering how the hell Gemma could afford to live in such a community from just being a principal at a secondary school.

Gemma must have noticed me gaping out the window, because she laughed. "My brother has, or, had a good job. He insisted that I take some of his money since he has so much." she explained, giggling softly.

"Damn, wish I had your brother." I joked, biting my lip when Gemma pulled into the driveway of a house at the end of the street. Gemma snorted, pulling the key out of the ignition. She grabbed one of my bags from the back seat, and I grabbed the other, and together we approached the front door.

Gemma's house was beautiful on the outside, with limestone built into the arched roof and down the sides of the house. A large glassy window stood out at the front of the house, with tan brick surrounding it. However, the interior design of the house topped the outside by a landslide.

Upon entering, a large chandelier hung from the ceiling, like crystals raining down on us. The floor was covered in a dark cherrywood, the wood that I was especially fond of. A study with french doors was to my left, and a dining room that led to the kitchen on my right.

"You're house is beautiful." I gasped, only for Gemma to give me a humble smile.

"Thanks." she said. "Come on, I'll show you your room."

I followed her through the first floor of the house, until she stopped in front of a door. She turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, revealing to me, what would be my new room.

"This is too much." was what slipped from my mouth as soon as I saw what Gemma was offering to me.

The room was gorgeous. Everything about it was so elegant, from the maroon and golden colored bedspread, down to the beautiful designed rug and draperies that hung in front of the windows. I shook my head, and Gemma threw an arm around my shoulder.

"Don't worry about it." she patted my opposite shoulder. "It's the least I can do."

"Thank you." I whispered, turning to give her a hug.

Gemma left shortly after to pick her children up from her brother's house, who she explained had been taking care of them when she wanted to go out on her own. Gemma teased me before she left, telling me not to burn the house down.

Her free-spirited attitude and occasional sarcasm made me smile, and I knew without a pinch of doubt, that she would be a great friend to me, as I would be to her.

I wasn't sure if her children would like me, but one thing was for sure.

This was definitely a step up from that nasty hotel room.

Notes