by Ivy Clyde
It only took a second for my sleep to evaporate. Jumping toward the window, I pulled away the curtains. From the intensity of the blue sky, it was safe to assume the time was close to noon.
“Sorry,” I said, rubbing at my eyes. “I slept for too long. Is it okay if I come in another half hour?”
Sergei gave an exasperated sigh, muttering something in Russian. “Don’t be late. I haven’t got time to waste on teens all day.” The call switched off.
Throwing the phone away, I raked my fingers through the tangled lengths of my jet black hair. Because of last night’s exhaustion, I had slept through the alarm. My stomach groaned audibly, reminding me why I felt so weak.
Climbing off the creaking bed, I headed into the kitchen. It was a cramped section with barely any space to move around. My bedroom was slightly larger with enough space to accommodate a single cot. This tiny apartment on the top floor of a crumbling building was my home. Since Mom didn’t live with me anymore, I didn’t see any reason to live in a better place. Rent was the lowest in this area that was close to school. With barely any functioning utilities, the bills stayed low too.
I looked around the cabinet over the stovetop for a box of cookies. The last of the cereal was gone two days ago. With no time to spend on shopping, I had to do with the chocolate chip cookies that were the only edible thing in the apartment.
They tasted soft and stale but I swallowed four down with a glass of water. Milk would have been great but the fridge had stopped working a month ago. Another thing to add to the list of stuff I need, I thought dryly.
After a quick stop in the bathroom, I began shedding off my waitress uniform. Both the shirt and skirt were badly crumpled after having slept in them but last night, I’d been too tired to bother taking them off.
It was almost a relief to put on my jeans and hoodie. The long length of my hair was wrapped in a tight bun and the hood thrown right over it. My curves were perfectly hidden under the bagginess of my pants and the oversized hoodie. If I walked with a stocky pose, people would surely mistake me for a boy.
Taking my iPad from my backpack, I connected it to the desktop computer which sat in the corner of my bedroom. My work station was the only spot in the derelict apartment that looked new and shiny. It only took a few minutes for the whole system to fire up and print single copies of the test papers.
I rolled the sheets and tucked them inside the side pocket of my jacket. Throwing the hood over my head, I hurried out of the apartment to go over to Sergei’s “office”. It was nothing but an abandoned shack that he’d forcibly taken over. He met with both clients and workers (like me) there and negotiated deals between them.
Even though the sky overhead was a bright blue, none of the light reached the alleys through which I walked. The smell of rotting garbage assaulted my nose as I took care not to step on puke or dog crap. Sergei operated from one of the worst neighborhoods in all of Philly.
I felt eyes on me as I neared Sergei’s place. Ignoring them, I entered the small dingy space he called an office. Two jocks from my school sat on the plastic chairs he kept for clients. I recognized them both but kept my face hidden, bothering to look at Sergei only.
My gangster boss was dressed in a stained, crumpled shirt. His graying hair was receding away from his shiny forehead. His dark eyes watched me expectantly. “You have it?” asked Sergei, giving me a glimpse of his tobacco-blackened teeth.
Taking the roll of test papers from my pocket, I placed it before him on the table. He checked them all and gave a nod. “Good.” He looked toward the two hulky boys before him. “There you go. Let me know if any of your friends need my help too.”
“Sure thing, man,” said one of them. They had gleeful looks on their faces as they glanced through the papers.
“We’ll contact you again,” said his friend as they both got to their feet to leave. They looked at me but I made sure to keep the hood over my face. They would never know that the person who hacked into the school’s portal to steal the test papers was in the same grade as them.
“Come here,” called Sergei, beckoning me with a thick finger.
I walked closer to his desk.
“You almost had me worried today,” he said, glancing at me with his pale watery eyes. “I don’t like irresponsible people.” The cold look in his voice was enough warning for me.
“Sorry,” I whispered, hating the way my voice shook. It wasn’t just about what he could do to me. I was more scared about what I’d do if he stopped giving me work. Mom’s life depended on the steady jobs he gave me.
“Be careful next time, kid.” He threw a couple of hundred dollar bills at me.
I collected them, not counting the bills before him. Scooping them all up, I shoved the money in my pocket. “Thanks.” Without another word, I hurried out of the shack, intent on getting out of there before he changed his mind and got one of his men to beat me up to prove his point.
Thankfully no one stopped me on the way back home.
Reaching the apartment building, I ran up the stairs, ignoring the colorful graffiti that had become discolored over the years since they were last painted. No one bothered to vandalize a rundown place like this. Some day when the whole thing collapsed to the ground, the authorities would just sell the land and some rich asshole would build a mall over its grave. Until then, kids like me got to rent the flats in it.
There were still a few hours left for school. If I went now, I could probably attend three afternoon classes.
Nah, I thought immediately, entering the apartment and pulling the hoodie away from my head. It really was too hot to be wearing one in peak summer.
Since it was a weekend tomorrow, I decided to go visit Mom. It would be nice to eat some lunch with her and pretend my life wasn’t any different than it had been three years ago.
I entered the bathroom which was smaller than the janitor’s broom cupboard. At least, hot water still came in when I turned on the shower knob. As I relaxed under the warm stream, my mind strayed over to the young man I’d seen last night. Part of me wished I could’ve known who he was.
And then what? A snide voice said in my mind. He’s probably some rich douche attending the mayor’s party.
I slammed the wall before me, rivulets of water streaming down my face. No matter how tough I tried to be, I still yearned to have friends or someone who could share the reality of my life. Mom barely had months to live now. There was no way I could tell her about the place I was living in or the kind of people I associated with to pay for the care center she stayed in.
Mom thought I was still staying in the more comfortable but modest apartment where we lived when we moved out of our home in residential Philly. We sold our beautiful house when Mom got diagnosed. The health insurance she was on wouldn’t pay for the treatments the doctors suggested, so we sold and moved into a smaller apartment. But then, things got really bad once it became evident that none of the treatments were working on her. Most of our money went down the drains for nothing.
The doctor gave her two years.
Out of that, only six months remained.
Mary was one of Mom’s closest friends. Mom had been her divorce lawyer when she was in trouble with her abusive husband. Their relationship soon turned into a personal one. Mary was the one who helped me shift Mom into a private care center where she would have help twenty-four-seven. Her medicines would be given on time, someone would always be there to help her into the bathroom if she didn’t have the strength to move, her meals would be given on time. Basically, she would have some comfort while cancer nibbled every last morsel of her life force.
Tears mingled with the water flowing down my body and into the drain.
No one needs to bear my burdens, I told myself, turning off the shower. You’ve dealt with it for so long. You can do it for a few more months.
Stepping out of the shower, I looked through the few clothes I had. Among them, I found a plaid red shirt and jeans that actually fit the shape of
my legs. They were rarely worn, so the fabrics still retained their color and softness. Mom would never know my situation when she saw me in them.
I donned the clothes, proceeding to tie my hair into a French braid. My lack of practice showed in the way it looked slightly lopsided. Still, adding a fluffy red scrunchy at the end made a world of difference. Besides, the aim wasn’t to look pretty. It was to fool Mom into thinking nothing had changed since she went to live at the care center.
Taking out a stack of makeup, I went back into the bathroom where a square mirror hung over the sink. I applied some pink gloss and mascara, almost surprising myself with the effect it had on my features. They made me look like a completely different person. I stared a moment longer at my reflection in the spotted surface of the mirror.
Taking my one and only handbag, I walked out of the apartment. The summer afternoon was amazingly warm with a clear blue sky overhead. Even with the clouds hanging over me, I felt an excitement suffusing through me.
I absolutely loved going to meet Mom at the care center. It was as far from my drab reality as possible. The staff was warm and friendly, always wearing neat uniforms while serving the patients. The landscaped gardens around the property were amazing places to relax and enjoy the summer sunshine. Being with Mom brought memories of a time that was long gone from my life.
My father passed away in a car accident when I was ten. We’d been a normal family until then with both parents working and me attending a nearby public school. Our Christmases were homely with a beautifully decked tree, good food, and presents.
After Dad’s passing, Mom worked long hours, pushing her limits. I suspected it was partly the grief of losing the love of her life that made her drown herself in work and ignore the signs of fatigue and sickness in her body. It wasn’t like we were scraping by. Mom just couldn’t stop working.
I hailed down a cab and climbed inside. Most days I would take the bus down to the care center but my pockets were warm with cash today.
It took almost an hour to reach the care center located in Knightswood, a small town outside Philly. As always, I stared out of the window as the car passed the vast campus of Knightswood Academy, an elite prep school reserved for the wealthiest and most affluent kids in the country. The brick-red building was built sometime in the early nineteenth century but still retained its imposing architecture.
“Impressive, huh?” the cab driver commented from the front seat.
“Yeah. Wonder what kind of people go to a place like that.”
“It’s definitely not for people like us.”
I sat back in my seat, almost laughing at the thought of attending Knightswood Academy. The number of times I’d hacked into their network was enough to expel me.
My spirits rose as the cab came closer to the care center building situated in a wooded area. Surrounded by hills, it was the ideal place for patients to relax and get well. I just wished Mom was one of them who would be going home after a quiet retreat.
After paying the cab driver, I climbed out and headed for the visitor’s center.
Mom had no idea I was coming to visit her today, so one of the nurses would have to get her from her room. Praying she was feeling well enough to see me, I asked the woman sitting at the front desk to inform Mom of my visit.
“Please have a seat. We’ll have someone get Mrs. Wilson,” said the receptionist with a ready smile.
I tried to smile back but felt awkward. It wasn’t an expression I was used to anymore.
Being Friday, the vast hall adjacent to the reception area was almost empty. Families mostly came on weekends, so there were neither any guests nor patients around me as I sat down on a comfortable couch. There were stacks of glossy, colorful magazines on the coffee table before me, featuring the inhumanly beautiful models on the cover. I eyed them, wondering if I cared about the top ten tips that hinted your husband was cheating on you or the latest summer trends in beachwear that summer.
“Skye.” Mom’s familiar voice had me look up immediately.
It took me a moment to absorb the difference in her appearance since the last time I’d seen her. Mom was thinner, the bones of her elbows jutting out in an ugly way. The thick waves of her dark hair were reduced to short, thin wisps that barely covered her scalp. I swallowed the choke that came from knowing she was wasting away before my eyes and stood up to hug her.
“What are you doing here today?” she asked in a chiding tone. The woman was close to dying but was worried about her daughter missing school. It was a struggle not to roll my eyes at her.
“Can’t I come to see you?” I asked in return. “School won’t vanish if I didn’t attend for a single day.” You could vanish though…forever…I thought silently. Swallowing against the wave of emotions surging through me, I added, “Afternoon classes got canceled. It’s boring to be in the apartment all by myself, so I came. I missed you, Mom.”
Mom smiled. Even though her cheeks had hollowed out, she still looked beautiful when she smiled. There was still light in those brilliant blue eyes that were so similar to mine.
“I missed you too, honey.” She stepped back and eyed me from top to bottom. “You’ve lost weight, sweetheart. Are you eating your meals on time?”
“Of course, Mom,” I lied. “It’s the stupid assignments and a hundred quizzes that get me all wound out. It’s the stress. Anyway, summer holidays start next week. I can come to see you more often then.”
“You don’t have to make the trip so often,” said Mom. “It’s too far from the city. Just stay in and sleep late. You need to relax too. Anyway, have you thought which colleges you want to apply to?”
“What?”
“Colleges, honey. You can’t keep waitressing forever. A good graduate degree will help you get a better paying job with less stress. You should definitely consider NYU. It would be easier since I’m an alumnus and already know the head of admissions at the law department. I could talk to Samantha about you and…”
I tuned out her words as she talked about colleges and the people she knew who could help me narrow down the admission requirements to get in. Mom was dying but she channeled all her remaining energy into giving me a life she thought her daughter deserved. College seemed like a very normal thing to do after high school but part of me wondered if I’d ever be able to walk back to the world of “normal”.
“Mom, I am hungry,” I said after a while, interrupting her. “Does the cafeteria stay open past lunchtime?”
“Hungry? Yeah, the cafeteria stays open until late at night.”
“I love their tuna melt sandwich.”
A light giggle escaped Mom.
“What?”
She shrugged but a glint came in her blue eyes. “I’m just glad to know you’re excited about food. It means you’re not anorexic or going through an eating disorder.” She slowly got to her feet, clutching the back of the chair to support her frame. “Come on. It’s been a while since I watched you eat.”
I rushed to her side, knowing she was too weak to even walk on her own. As she leaned on me, I hardly felt her weight. Her body was so light. I struggled against another wave of emotions, fighting not to cry and keep a smile on my face for her sake.
We spent an hour at the cafeteria. While I ordered myself the cheesy sandwich, Mom sat with a glass of juice which she barely touched. Soon, it became evident that she couldn’t sit up anymore. She needed to lie down.
I called for her caregivers and watched them help her back to her room. They were adept and made the task of putting her back to bed and making her comfortable look simple and effortless. It felt good to see Mom being taken care of. It was worth everything I had to endure to give her this treatment. I would do anything to make her last moments as painless as possible.
Mom fell asleep within minutes of being put to bed. It was only then I realized how even sitting and talking was exhausting for her. With nothing else to do, I decided to go back home.
I called for a cab to take me back t
o the city.
It took a while for the Uber to arrive. It would be late by the time I go home, I guessed, thinking about the evening traffic we would face on the road back to the city.
It was a quiet ride back to town and as expected, the journey was longer than the one this afternoon.
“Could you drop me by that store?” We were close to my neighborhood now. The sight of the grocery store reminded me of my empty kitchen cabinet. At the very least, I needed to pick up some cereal and cookies.
Paying the cab driver, I climbed out, feeling a gentle breeze lifting the stray strands from my forehead. The area was dark except for the brightly lit store. Better hurry up, I told myself, rushing inside the shop.
The man at the counter looked alarmed at the sight of me. His eyes went to the street outside and then back at me. Something was definitely up.
Snatching a box of cereal and cookies from a nearby aisle, I threw them on the counter, hoping to pay up and get out of there before trouble broke out. It wasn’t that unusual for things to happen in this part of the city because the cops rarely patrolled the area.
Grabbing my stuff, I walked out of the shop, eager to hurry back to the safety of my apartment before a fight or shooting broke out. I’d barely walked a few feet when a shout stopped me in my tracks.
“Stop right there!” a sharp male voice commanded me.
My hands clutched the brown paper bag. My heart beat frantically in my chest as I slowly turned around the spot. My instincts told me to run but I might end up getting shot if I disobeyed.
A tall man stood in the shadows, watching me.
“What do you want?” I asked in a wavering voice. My eyes darted all around the area, trying to see if he had other accomplices with him.
“Maria?”
I froze at the sound of that name. A breeze blew by, lifting the sparse hair on the back of my neck. What was with that name that caused me to shiver even though the night was warm? I didn’t want to find out.
I ran.