"No, it's not like that, we're …" My mind was pushed to the brink. I held my head and frantically denied it.
Suddenly, a loud crash sounded behind me, cutting off my words.
I turned around and saw my mother, covered in blood, hanging upside down inside the car.
She slowly reached out to me, her lips endlessly murmuring my name, "Josephine, Josephine, don't be scared …"
"Mom!" I jolted awake in terror, my chest still tight and trembling. This nightmare had haunted me for nine years.
Cedric clung to my neck, his cold little face pressed against mine, "Mommy, don't be scared. Cedric is here. I will always be with Mommy."
My reason slowly returned. I hugged his tiny body back, my voice hoarse, "Yes … with you here, Mommy's not afraid."
But his next words nearly made my heart stop, "Mommy, Grandpa seems to have fallen in the bathroom."
I rushed into the bathroom and the scene before me made my eyes burn with fury. My father's colostomy bag had burst, feces and urine scattered everywhere.
The wheelchair had toppled over nearby. He was lying in the filth, struggling to get up, his fingernails torn.
I rushed in, "Dad, didn't I say? If you need anything, just call me, okay?"
"You get out, don't look. Get out …" he stuttered.
I didn't listen to him. Though he was ashamed, I still removed his clothes piece by piece, cleaned him up and attached a new bag.
As I tended to the wounds on his fingernails, his eyes reddened with tears, "If only I could join your mother sooner, you'd have one less burden."
My hand paused as I applied the medicine and I forced the tears back down, "Dad, I already lost Mom. I can't lose you too."
His expression grew even more sorrowful. His trembling right hand reached out, trying to touch my right ear, "It's my fault. I failed you."
I pressed his hand against my face and forced a natural smile, "It's okay, Dad. I still have one ear that can hear. It's no problem."
After finishing the treatment, I had Cedric wheel him out to the balcony to see the flowers and get some fresh air, while I went to clean the bathroom.
Once the door was shut, I leaned against the wall and let my body slide down in exhaustion.
Yesterday, Andre asked me, "Does your mother know you're a bar girl now?"
I wanted to know too, was my mom watching all of this from heaven? Would she blame me? But I had no choice. After my father's stroke left him paralyzed, he couldn't be left alone. Cedric's treatments needed constant money.
A 'bad girl' like me, expelled in my first year of college and half-deaf, how many jobs would hire me? All I could choose was nightlife work. The hours fit and the pay was fast.
I once struggled for dignity. I once slapped a boss I couldn't bear. But dignity didn't pay the bills and it didn't cure Cedric's illness. Instead, I had to forfeit half a year's wages just to compensate that boss.
After that day, I forced myself to endure, numbing myself like an emotionless machine.
What's wrong with a touch? What's wrong with a kiss? If it could save my dad and Cedric, I'd even jump myself to the sea.
I never wanted to collapse in tears at the nurse's station again just because I couldn't afford the fees while Cedric was having an attack.
I kept telling myself, I have to make a lot of money. I have to send my dad to the best rehabilitation center. I have to get Cedric a bone marrow transplant, so he can grow up healthy.
But that dream … felt forever out of reach.
