I was steeling myself to go back to work when the hospital called again.
My mother's attending physician delivered the news with audible regret.
Her condition had taken a sharp turn for the worse. There were signs of heart failure.
He urged me to authorize surgery immediately. No more delays.
Otherwise she might not make it through the week.
I leaned against the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the floor.
A low, broken sound escaped my throat, and the tears finally came.
I gave myself five minutes. Five minutes and not a second more.
When the time was up I wiped my face, gathered every scrap of courage I had left, and went to Jacqueline to ask for an advance on my wages.
She was lounging in her office chair.
One leg crossed over the other, painting her toenails red.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Talked myself into it for what felt like forever.
Finally, my voice shaking, I opened my mouth.
“Jacqueline, could I get a few months' wages in advance? My mom's gotten worse. She needs surgery right away……”
Jacqueline was pressing glitter onto her nails. She didn't even look up. Just let out a short, derisive laugh：
“Are you sleepwalking? First you go after my husband, now you're coming for my money?”
I bowed to her, close to begging：
“I'm not joking. My mom is on the operating table right now, waiting for the funds to come through!”
“If you advance me the money, I'll agree to anything. I'll work overtime for free from now on. No, forget that. I'll give up the next few years of my salary entirely!”
“Your mother dying is none of my business.”
She rolled her eyes at me.
She stood to leave.
I wasn't ready to give up. I stepped in front of her.
“Please……”
“Get away from me!”
Her arm swung hard.
The bottle of nail polish struck my forehead.
Something warm trickled down my temple. Blood.
She sat back down, folded her arms, and smiled. Even the smile was vicious：
“Your mother's got nothing to do with me. Shouldn't you be asking your father to foot the bill?”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot. You don't have a father. Your mother spread her legs for some nobody, and you're what crawled out.”
“Why else would your daddy let her rot like this and let you sell yourself to seduce other women's husbands?”
Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head.
I stared her down, my eyes so red the veins must have been showing：
“Enough. That's the second time you've insulted my mother.”
She swayed to her feet and leaned in close.
“You want to glare at me? Try me. I will fire you right here, right now. Then you won't even have a branch left to climb.”
Spit flecked my face.
“Who do you think you are, expecting me to lend money to the tramp chasing my husband? Say one more word and I'll dock this month's pay too. Every last cent.”
So this was what poverty really did. It stripped you of your dignity and left nothing behind.
I clamped a hand over my mouth, ran out, and hid in the break room, crying without making a sound.
My fingers closed around the silver ring hanging from my neck.
The cold metal pressed into my palm.
Dad, where are you?
How could you be this cruel? How could you just abandon Mom and me?
I pulled myself together and got ready to go back to the floor.
But Jacqueline was already there, blocking the break-room door with a crowd of employees behind her.
“Odette Perez, don't you move!”
My heart dropped.
“What's wrong?”
Jacqueline's voice was ice：
“Five thousand dollars is missing from the register. You tell me what's wrong.”
My stomach sank and I scrambled to explain：
“I was hauling stock all day! I never went near the register!”
She arched a brow, looking at me like I was dirt：
“How do we know you didn't sneak over when nobody was looking?”
“I didn't!”
My eyes stung so badly they must have been crimson.
“Check the cameras! The footage will prove I was never at the register!”
Jacqueline let out a scornful laugh：
