Scarlet Truth

Clara Daniels. “Table four needs more water, Clara!” Mason calls from the kitchen window. “Table two needs Philly cheese steak,” he added. “Got it!” I called back, balancing a tray as I dodged a waiter carrying three plates of pasta. Friday evenings are usually very busy at Le Petit Haven restaurant and all hands are on deck. Work has been draining. At the restaurant, customers complained about portions, staff called in sick, and Mr. Wilson, the restaurateur, seemed to like snapping every five minutes. He is strict but fair. He's usually like this on Fridays. But I endured it. I had to. After all, it was not just about me anymore. I studied business administration in school. After school, I tried getting my dream job, which was working at Microsoft, but all efforts proved abortive. I was later stuck working in Le Petit Haven Restaurant as the manager. It is an elegant and vibrant restaurant. We all treat ourselves with respect. My mind went to my mother. I left her lying on the couch this morning with a damp cloth on her forehead. The cough and fever have been persistent, and have gotten worse, and the wheezing, geez, the wheezing still echoes in my ears. My mom was diagnosed with a lung infection. The doctor advised admission, but the cost is a challenge, and finances have been tight for both my sister Nadia and me. We don’t have health insurance. I put on a smile as I served the couple by the window. “Here is your Philly cheese steak, Enjoy.” But my smile faded the second I turned away. “Tonight Nadia and I have to figure out how we would raise Mom's treatment.” "It’s okay, Clara." I consoled myself. "You’ve done harder things before," I whispered. My phone buzzed in my apron. It was a message from Nadia. Nadia: Clara, it’s Mom. It’s bad! I’m taking her to the hospital. Meet us there. My heart sank to my stomach, my face was covered in sweat, my palms suddenly became damp, and my breath was suddenly in high pitch. My mind lost balance, racing to process Nadia’s message. "Bad?" "How bad?" I wondered. I went straight to Mr. Wilson’s office and told him what Nadia said. “Sir, I'm so sorry, but I have to leave now. My Mom has been rushed to the hospital. My sister just texted.” My voice was trembling. "Oh, sorry to hear that," he said. "You can go, we will manage," he added. I grabbed my things and rushed out of the restaurant. The message kept replaying in my mind. It was getting dark as I hurried, looking to see if I could get a cab, my feet pounding the pavement. Everywhere looked foggy. I stopped a taxi. “Sir, I'm going to St. John Hospital,” I said. “Enter,” the cab-man replied. I grabbed my phone out of my bag and called Nadia. “Hello?” Her voice cracked. “Nadia! How is Mom?” “She is in the emergency room, where are you?” She said, her words tumbling over each other. "Clara, she couldn’t breathe, I thought—" “I’m almost there.” I cut her off. "Don’t cry, I’m coming." After the call, my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I could see the hospital from a distance. "Mister, please could you drive faster?" I said, "It's an emergency," I said in a shaking voice. “Alright, we will get there soon,” he said. He probably overheard my conversation. Please, God… don’t take her from us too. “Please stop here,” I said to the driver. We got to the emergency entrance. I gave him his money and came down, running towards the emergency room. Every step I took felt heavier than the last. I got to the waiting room to find Nadia pacing, her face pale with tears. “Clara!” she cried, running into my arms. “Where is she? What is happening?” “She is in with the doctors.” Nadia’s voice trembled. "They said her lungs are infected… there’s fluid. They need to drain it immediately." I felt weak. “Okay… okay,” I murmured, gripping Nadia’s shoulders. “We’ll do whatever they say.” A doctor approached, his expression was unreadable. “You are her daughters?” he asked. “Yes,” I said quickly. “How is she?” “She’s stable for now, but we need to do the surgery urgently to prevent complications. The estimate is about $20,000.” Twenty thousand? I swallowed hard, forcing myself to nod. “Alright, we will raise the money.” But as the doctor left, tears rolled down my cheeks. Nadia fell on a chair, and her hands were on her head. “Clara… we don’t have that kind of money.” “I know,” I said softly, staring at the hospital walls. "Dad’s death had wiped out our savings, Nadia cried. "The relatives who had once promised to ‘always be there’ have left us." She sobbed. “We’re on our own”. My life has revolved around bills, medical appointments for my mom, and work schedules. Since dad died of hypertension three years ago, it feels like we have been moving in circles. He was with us one moment, smiling, holding the family together, and the next he was gone, leaving Mom, Nadia, and me to pick up the shattered pieces. Mom has not been the same since then. Her health has become fragile. I pulled my arms around Nadia, even though my hands were shaking. “We will get the money,” I whispered. “Alright!” But deep down, I didn't know how we were going to get the money. *** Nadia and I spent the night at the hospital. Mom was still unconscious and was in the intensive care unit (ICU). We rested in the hospital lounge, but I hadn't slept much. I sat up slowly, my body was heavy with exhaustion. I looked around, but Nadia was nowhere to be seen. I stood up and saw her coming from the restroom. “Hey, let's check on Mom,” she suggested. “Yeah,” I said, getting my slippers on. The nurse was attending to Mom when we entered the ward. She was still on oxygen. “Good morning nurse, how is she?” “She is responding to treatment.” The nurse's response brought a mix of relief and concern. Nadia glanced at me with her eyes clouded with worry. The amount the doctor said felt like a stone was placed on my chest. We paid a bit last night, but where on earth are we supposed to get the rest? “Mom, hang in there, don't leave us.” Nadia sobbed and tears rolled down my face. I joined Nadia and hugged her tightly. “We will figure it out.” *** The restaurant had a lively atmosphere with waiters taking orders and serving customers. I had to pretend like I was okay. I went over to the counter and reviewed menu plans and reservations. “You can do this Clara.” I encouraged myself. “Clara, good morning!” I heard Mason's voice. “Good morning Mason,” I managed to put on a smile. “Are you good?” I guess he was able to see through me. “You look tired,” he added. “I didn't sleep well last night, but I am fine.” I started writing, pretending to focus on the book, to avoid eye contact. “You left in a hurry yesterday. Did anything happen?” So Mr Wilson did not tell him, that's good. “I went to see a relative at the hospital,” I said, looking down. “Hope the person is fine now.” “Yes.” I lied. I wasn't okay, but I didn't want to burden anyone with my problem. Everybody has theirs. Mason is the head chef at Le Petit Haven. We have grown close over time, but he can be annoying sometimes. As the day went on, I forced myself to stay focused. Orders came in, the waiters frequently asked questions, Mr Wilson calling multiple times. I handled it with steady hands. Mason appeared again. “Take, you look like you could use this.” He said with a cup of tea. “Thanks.” I smiled weakly and took it. *** “Bye guys!” I bade everyone goodbye and left Le Pepit. I had been thinking all day about how we could raise twenty thousand. I had to do something. Nadia had sent messages that she was in the hospital, so I went home to get a few things. I went to mom's room and that was when it hit me. The jewelry! Dad got gold jewelry for Mom for their anniversary years ago. Looking at it made me emotional, it reminded me of their love together. This could save Mom. I grabbed it and didn't want to think much about it. I had to sell it tonight! I reached for my phone and searched for jewelry buyers near me. One link caught my eye, ‘Quick cash for gold and luxury items’. There was a number there, so I called. A man with a brisk voice answered. “Hello, I have gold for sale,” I said over the phone. “Send a picture to this number. If it's good, I'll pay cash.” “Okay.” I ended the call. I opened the curtain to get a good picture and sent it to the man.