Entangled with the lost heir

Stacy's POV

I missed another opportunity to get a job. Even when I had a smiley face on, my shirt and skirt were crisp and smooth. My makeup is lightly done.

One that wasn't going to have the female employees wondering if I've gone to steal the favor of their superior and colleagues, or one a female superior would disagree with.

I made sure I did everything right, but the moment I heard the man say with a weak smile,

"I'm really sorry,"

I needed no further explanations. A vacancy I had well applied for. An interview I earned.

How was another candidate suddenly given the bag just yesterday? I thought on my way home as the afternoon sun hit my face. “Thank goodness I reused my sunscreen before leaving home.” I said to myself.

I could see my mom trailing down the stairs, and I knew her hawk eyes, firm but gentle, were gawking at me from where I sat down.

I fought back the tears in my eyes, preparing to pretend all was okay. I couldn't bring myself to her. I have failed again; I don’t know what to do again.

I was staring down at my phone before I realized she was already standing before me. I pretended whatever it was I didn’t know about it.

Staring at my phone made it so oblivious she was now standing there, but what I wasn't prepared for was when she crouched down, her hands on my knees, her face warm and her eyes tender, telling me that everything was going to be fine.

Perhaps, I needed not to lie. I couldn't hold back the tears at that moment, and I crashed my head into my mom's embrace, soaking her dress with my tears.

"You will get another one," she said as she patted my shoulders gently, but I could tell she was only saying that to console me.

"What makes you so sure?" I asked between sniffles, trying to get myself together.

She smiled, "I just know so, and as for those people, they can shove their appointment up their asses!"

I burst into a fit of laughter, “Mom!” and I could tell she just wanted to cheer me up from the way she smiled back.

In a few seconds, the somber feeling clouds my expression, and I rested my head on her shoulders.

“I just want to give us a better life, Mom. Am I not old and conscious enough to do that?”

“Look at you speaking like all you do is sit home and play video games!” she frowns,

“You step out there all day, seeking out every opportunity available. Hell, you were the one who made me understand the modern way of writing CV's and applying for jobs via emails.”

“You made me a critique of how well you composed your application letters, how well your choice of dresses looked, that alone should remind you, my girl, you are doing more than enough.”

“No, I'm not.” I whisper, and another stream of tears comes pouring down.

“My poor girl”, I heard the hurt in her voice as she embraced me tightly.

“It would have not been this difficult if Joe had never been around,” I mutter, and I knew my mom heard it when she went rigid beside me.

We remained silent for a few more seconds, and in that little moment, I knew whatever she was going to say as always was only meant to comfort me. I knew a part of her still blamed me for Joe. Still blamed me for what happened after Joe.