Endless Pursuit

Chapter 3

Ten years later

Miranda woke up that Monday morning but not on her bed rather on top of a pile of books and bills on the old, rickety table in her tiny room. She sighed heavily and stood up from the desk. Glancing at the clock. It was half past seven.

Shit! She was late for school.

Her eyes fell over the pile of books on the table, the still open Philosophy textbook she had been trying to pour into her head since yesterday, and the school remainder bills, as well as the house rent remainder bill her landlord had flung in her face yesterday evening while she was watering her old, decaying garden.

“Miss Grey! This is the third time this month I am asking you for your house rent! The next time I ask, I will also throw you out! I don't know how you guys would occupy a house that isn't yours and decide not to pay for it! This is the second year, Grey! The second year! And you haven't paid any damn money for the rent!”

The Landlord Mr. Tom, had complained fiercely.

“Um….Sir, things have been difficult for us, so we haven't been able to pay. But I can assure you,” She paused, scratching her head as she was about to tell the apparent lie she had spoken for the past month, “We will pay the rent very soon.” She assured, her voice sounding halfhearted.

Mr. Tom looked her with scorn. While she bit her lip.

“And how soon is soon?”

“Very soon.”

“Silly girl! Do you think your landlord is too foolish to fall for your ploy again? Never! You have been telling me you will pay soon for months! And I have been allowing this because I know how hard things are for your family. But now I know you are just tricking me. This is the final warning. If you can't pay my rent, leave my house and let someone who can pay occupy it!” He threatened and stormed off.

She sighed heavily. “If only.” She whispered.

She took her bath and went into the kitchen. She narrowly missed the glass that flew towards her face from the kitchen doorway. She immediately dodged, and the glass bottle flew past her face, landing on the wall behind her and shattering the glass into pieces.

Miranda frowned and looked into the kitchen, wondering who had thrown that bottle. It was her mother, Esther, who stood in the middle of the kitchen with rough, dirty, matted hair, ragged clothes, and a murderous look on her face. Miranda sometimes referred to her as Esther, her name, because I sometimes she just could not bring myself to view her as her mother.

She rolled her eyes, walked into the kitchen, past her mom, and took a cup from the kitchen cabinet. She started to make her tea.

Esther her mother heaved furiously, still looking outside the kitchen door.

Esther put her cup under the old tap of the sink and started to fetch water into it.

“Don’t you guys ever stop?” she asked, her eyes focused on her cup.

Esther sighed and leaned on the old kitchen cabinet.

“Careful!” she cried, but it was too late as parts of the worn-out cabinet fell from the pressure of her mother's body to the floor.

“s**t. I didn't know they had become this weak.” Esther flung her hands in frustration.

Miranda stared at the old pieces of wood on the floor and sighed.

“You didn't know they would be so weak, but you know how old they are,” she stared and remarked sarcastically.

Rats and cockroaches ran out of the broken part of the cabinet. Esther jumped to avoid them, while Miranda

took a broom and started hitting them. She was used to the rats and cockroaches by now.

It's a regular sight when you live in the oldest house in the slum and grew up in stark poverty.

“I'm not cleaning this up,” Miranda said pointing to the pieces of wood on the floor, “ And I'm not cleaning that either.”

This time she was pointing at the pieces of glass outside the kitchen her mother had just broken.

“Sorry Child. Your father had me riled up this morning again.” Esther apologized without blinking, looking in one direction.

Miranda rolled her eyes.

“He does that every morning. I suppose you should be used to it by now.” She responded casually.

She placed a cup on her lips and sipped the water, which was sour. She did not know if something was wrong with the water or if it was because she was in a foul mood.

“Your father is the worst. He makes my life miserable all of the time! I really can't stand him!” Esther shrieked

“If you can't stand him, then leave him. Haven't I said this more than a thousand times? And I am not even exaggerating. Leave him, and let us finally have some peace in this house. I am tired of your constant fighting and arguments all day long. And it would help if you stopped breaking all the plates we have. It's not like there's any money to replace them.” Miranda could no longer but vent off the sour feeling in her belly with the long rant.

Esther said nothing, simply staring down at her feet.

Miranda walked out of the kitchen.

“Wait!” Esther called

She stopped and looked back.

Esther came out of the kitchen, looking at her with wary eyes.

“Can you give me a dollar? I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday night, you see?”

“Why? I cooked food when I returned had there's still food in the pot.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

Esther remained silent.

“Alright, fine!”

She took some money from her purse and gave it to her mother.

“Use it to buy what you want to buy. I know you will still spend it on booze anyway,” she said.

“Thank you so much, daughter! I will repay you as soon as possible!”

Miranda scoffed.

“I'm serious,” said Esther, “ I promise to pay back! I'll get a job and pay you all the money you have given us!”

“Hmmm,” Miranda said and walked out of the house.