Industry (Part 1) - Completed

“Come on, baby!” Mary Maple called from the front door, her voice unnaturally bright. “Alice is already asleep—you know she’ll sleep through the night! We’ll be back long before she even knows we left!” She grinned like her words made perfect sense.

Isabella stood frozen in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest. Deep sadness bubbled just beneath her eyes. How many times had Mary said something like this? How many times had she been left behind—an infant herself—while her mother ran off chasing parties, men, and whatever came with them?

It didn’t matter. That kind of hurt had nowhere to go. She swallowed it down, like always.

“I’m not leaving Alice alone, Mom,” Isabella said flatly. “You go ahead. I’ve got schoolwork to catch up on anyway.”

Mary groaned, dragging her heels like a teenager caught in a lie. “Izzy, don’t be like that. You’re always so serious. You’re eighteen, not eighty. You need to live a little.”

Isabella’s face didn’t change. “Goodnight, Mom.”

Mary huffed, muttering something under her breath as she slammed the door behind her.

About an hour later, Martin arrived. He kissed Isabella’s cheek, told her the apartment looked great, praised her for being responsible, then helped himself to her bed for the night. Isabella watched him disappear into her room, taking up space in her life like it was owed to him.

She couldn't sleep—not really. She tried to sleep next to Martin for an hour or so before her anxiety mounted and she crawled back out of bed. She pulled on a hoodie, tiptoed back to the kitchen, and sat down with her laptop. If she could keep her grades up, stay organized, be dependable—maybe that meant she was okay. Maybe it meant she was worth something. That she could build something more for Alice.

It was still dark outside when the phone rang, loud and sudden. She scrambled to answer before it woke anyone.

“Hello?” she whispered, tense as she heard movement from the hallway.

“Sweetheart!” Mary’s voice blared through the phone, sloppy and too loud. “I’m so glad you’re up!”

“What’s going on, Mom?” Isabella asked, emphasizing the word Mom just as Martin appeared, shirtless and irritated, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

“I need money,” Mary slurred. “Baby, listen, the cops came to this dumb party—y’know, the one I was working at—and they got it in their tiny little brains that I was propositioning a minor! Can you believe that? I was just drunk, okay? Not doing anything shady!”

She cackled. It wasn’t joyful. It was jagged and loose, like her brain was slipping sideways.

“But anyway, the bail’s real high ‘cause they’re saying it’s, like, some serious charge or whatever. So I need you to front me, like, a few hundred. Just until payday. You got it, right?”

Martin had stepped close enough to hear every word. Without asking, he took the phone from Isabella’s hand and held it to his ear.

“No,” he said, calm but cold. “We’re not covering your bail.”

There was a pause—then Mary shrieked, “I wasn’t talking to you! Put my daughter back on the phone! She’s not your puppet, Mr. Moneybags. She works! She earns her own cash. She can make her own decisions about helping her mother!”

Martin didn’t flinch. “My decision is final.” He hung up.

Isabella stared at him. Her stomach was tight, coiled up with something she couldn’t quite name. She wasn’t even sure what she would’ve done if the choice had been hers. Would she have helped? Could she?

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t her decision. Her life felt like a long line of things she had to manage, juggle, carry—without any of it actually belonging to her.

Martin handed the phone back to her. “You don’t need to deal with her drama anymore. Focus on school. On your future.”

She nodded slowly, though her chest felt like it was caving in. “Yeah. Okay.”

And just like that, Mary Maple disappeared from her life again.

But Isabella stayed. She stayed with the baby. With the bills. With the homework and the dishes and the weight of it all pressing down on her shoulders. Numb, but upright.