DAISY
"This is the Holding Duties office. I'm Nina Chou. How may I help you?" the voice on the receiver says immediately after picking up the phone.
I begin with hope. "I'm Daisy Esteban. I made arrangements a few weeks ago with Mr. Hui, but I can't reach him now. Can you please connect me to his office?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Esteban, but Mr. Hui has been absent for a week."
"Do you have any idea how I can reach him?" I ask desperately.
"I'm sorry, but we do not give out personal information. However, I will write down your complaint and send it to his desk. When he returns, he will attend to you."
That wasn't helpful at all.
"Thank you." I hang up, lie back on my bed, and let out a frustrated sigh.
I wouldn't be thanking her if not for my middle school social studies teacher back in Hong Kong, who made a big deal about showing gratitude.
Earlier today, my mom's doctor called and suggested another chemo treatment for the slightest chance of hope. They believe it might help as a sole treatment to cure my mom without needing additional therapies.
I have a thousand emotions, mainly because I feel so useless—I'm so far from home.
Knowing my mom well enough, I know she has always hated chemo. She says it makes her sick and has a long list of other side effects I don't want to remember.
My mom is a strong woman, but even the strongest fall and my mom happens to be one of them. I remember the days we went to the hospital for her chemotherapy. I never missed a session. I would always sit right next to her while she received treatments.
That was the cure, I believed, even though I witnessed the side effects—nausea, fever, fatigue, pain, hair loss. I remember shaving her once-healthy light brown hair in our tiny bathroom. Then there was bleeding. That was when I had enough and insisted on ceasing the treatment.
What if another round of the same treatment comes with those effects? How can Mom handle it by herself? She has no one to take care of her.
I know the risk. I've seen mornings when she fails to wake up, days when she can't help herself, and nights when she passes out on the bathroom floor.
Why did I accept the scholarship? Why did I even apply for it in the first place? If I knew it would take me away from the only parent I have present in my life.
There's a brink of tears in my eyes as I type a quick text message to her, letting her know about my first day of school, which I completely fabricated. My mom had always hoped my first day at SU would be organized, smooth, and easy—she had no idea.
In the text, I also mention the chances we have if she agrees to take another round of chemo. I want to believe she will be okay. All I hope is for Mr. Hui to call back; I need someone to assist my mom. Otherwise, I will have to find a way to pay for hospital treatments, which are quite expensive given that we aren't citizens of this country.
Just as I send the message, the bedroom door creaks open.
"Hey, girl?"
I glance at the door, meeting Riley's eyes.
"Hey, Riley." I force a smile and sit up.
Her neutral expression fades, replaced by concern. "Have you been crying?" she probes. "What's wrong?"
Here's a little explanation: your boyfriend is making sure my life is a mess. I'm dealing with the fear of living thousands of miles away from my mom, who is barely holding herself together and about to start another treatment. We're running out of budget and need money to care for my sick mom.
However, I don't tell Riley that. She has no idea my mom has lung cancer. "No, I just applied some self-treatment for last night's lack of sleep eye bags," I lie.
She steps into the room with dilated pupils. "Really? I had the same nerves last night too. I couldn't sleep." She frowns. "I think the first day of college can stir up unknown anticipation." She adds, hopping onto the bed with a slight moan.
"Where have you been?" I ask.
"Mrs. Chandler invited me to some friends' gala as her plus one," she explains. "KC was supposed to represent, but he can be stubborn all the time," she finishes exhaustively.
I look away, avoiding her gaze as I murmur, "Oh."
"So, how was your first day of school?" She prods my elbow with an intrigued smile.
"Fascinating," I answer simply.
Her smile widens along with her eyes. "Does that mean you've met someone?"
Taken aback, I can't help but laugh at her expectations. "No, what? Oh my gosh, Riley. It means I found the school completely to my liking."
"Well, that's something. Mine was just as I pictured it. I drew everyone's attention," she says, elated.
"Shiny," I counter.
"You know it."
The rest of the night, we chat until we both fall asleep on my queen-size bed.
The next morning, I wake up feeling much better than before, though my brain demands more sleep, which I can't provide.
I take a quick shower and change into a knee-length dress and denim jacket. I hurry down to the first floor, praying I make it on time before the professor enters the lecture hall.
On the first floor, Vance stands in his uniform with his usual generous smile. "Good morning, Miss Esteban."
I screw my eyes shut and breathe, mentally wishing for any other way to escape the building every morning without having to confront him. Not that I have anything against him; I just don't want to go through another awkward conversation with time against me.