Mr Sinclair's Mistress

Rosalie Maxwell

Life gets harder as I get older and I'm getting tired of it. My family's dream is exhausting, and a long time ago it became mine too. I run myself ragged every day, sometimes I come back and I'm too exhausted to do anything other than work and sleep, but I can't because their dream is mine. My parents used to own a general store called Maxwell's. It's named after our family and, when they were young, the shop did really well; but now, people buy what they need online, and the business my parents poured blood, sweat, and tears into, is failing. I don't see us making it another year.

Their medical bills are behind, along with their rent that is one month past due and the only reason our landlord is not evicting us is because he has known my parents for thirty years. If it weren't for that, and the fact I promised to pay him before the month ends, they'd be sleeping in this store. Even right now, the electricity in my parents' apartment is off, and I need to provide another fifty dollars to get it turned on.

My eyes begin to burn with frustrated tears, and I stop moving boxes to try and catch my breath. Pressing my palms against my eyes I take a deep breath, but my emotions are too strong. I'm too damn tired. I'm so sick of caring, but I have to, I need them. I can't give up on them. I feel like I'm the only one who gives a shit about this business, too.

My parents barely come to the store anymore. My mother, Mariah, only shows up when she needs money to waste on the latest gambling place that would accept her. My father prefers to come here with his friends to raid the alcohol section with his friends whenever he likes. Since I added that section, I've never come back to find the money from a complete purchase or even any bottles of alcohol left. David Maxwell is very charitable when it comes to the distribution of alcohol that I provided for his dying business.

As for my brother, he is always off doing who knows what, and I'm left here, trying my damn best to make ends meet. I have to come over every day after work just to make sure everything is intact and they don't need anything. I have to make sure the lights are on, the water is running and check if there's sufficient food. I'm not sure how much longer I can do this before I break before I quit, but what kind of person would that make me if I quit on my family? I can't do that to them even though they have done it to me. They left me with this store and now I'm stuck unless I want my family to be homeless.

I no longer have the energy to do this. I no longer have the will to be the only one keeping my family afloat.

When do my hopes matter? When do my dreams and wants matter? I don't think I even have any of those, to be honest. No one has ever cared. It's always been about me taking care of them. I've dedicated everything. I've drained my savings account to keep food on the table and electricity running in their home.

I have nothing to my name now except my house because they had nothing to theirs. All those jobs I worked when I was younger, including my present job as an assistant, at one of the most popular companies in D.C., every dime pinched and saved in hopes of buying my own house one day, gone.

I know I'm bitter. I know that. I know I'm selfish and I'm being a bad daughter and sister, but when do I stop being all that for them, and where does that leave my family? I can't stop, right? I can't stop being what they need me to be. It isn't fair to them.

"It's not fair to them," I mutter and then exhale loudly, mentally scolding myself for letting my emotions crowd my duty to my family.

I can't think of quitting, because they need me and I need them, we're family. Especially with my grandma living in my parent's house now. My parents had demanded I take her to a retirement home because they didn't want to have to take care of her at this age, but I refused. I refused to let my grandmother, the woman who had done a better job at raising my brother and me than our mother. Especially now, with her being very old I didn't trust any retirement home.

Gran needed patience, and enough care while being surrounded by loved ones. And I'll continue to provide that for her as long as we're both alive. Even if it means coming from work to see her every day when I'm supposed to be resting for my next day at work.

I throw my wild curly hair in a messy bun to at least get it off my sweaty neck and stand in front of the box fan for a few minutes. It's blowing dry, hot air but it's better than nothing, right?

The doorbell chimes and I hold my breath, hoping it's a customer but it's just my younger brother, James.

"Rosalie! I fucked up, sis. I fucked up!" He slams the door, locks it, and laces his fingers behind his neck.

I drop the broom when I see the bruises on his face. "Oh my god, James. What happened?" I hurry to the front door and flip the sign to close. "Who did this to you?" I grip his chin, turning his head left and right. He has a black eye and a split lip. One hand is holding his side as if he has been kicked. "Who did this to you?" I repeat.

He pulls away and begins pacing the length of the room, "It doesn't matter. I need some money," James tells me.

"W-what? I don't have any money right now." I say honestly. "Who hurt you, James? We should go to the police right away." I walk closer to him and begin studying the bruises again.

"I said leave it! All I need is the money you're going to give me." He says roughly.

"I told you, I'm currently broke. But if you can be patient, I'll try to ask for an advance at work. I already spent my last salary on all the needs you and our parents have." I explain gently.

"So, not only are you useless to me right now, you're calling us needy?" He sneers.

"W-what? James don't be ridiculous. I never said that. You should know what I-" he cuts me off abruptly.

"Never mind. I'll find the money myself." He walks towards the door to leave.

My heart breaks as I blink back tears, "James! Wait, I don't have the money now but just be patient with me, please." I go after him and beg.

"Leave me alone, Rosalie. I don't need your stupid money." James spits before walking out and leaving me alone in the dimly lit, and quiet store.