My Invisible Chains

Knock, knock. "Who is it?" "Take a wild guess." "Oh, Kristine, it’s you. Please come in and have a seat." Pushing the door open I could see Dr. Marcus adjusting a solar plastic plant toy that danced back and forth in his window. He had at least three others next to it, each a different type and color. There was a metal chair with plaid cushions in front of his desk. Upon sitting in it Dr. Marcus stepped away from his window and took a seat opposite of me. Reaching down, he opened the bottom drawer to his desk and removed a file. Enclosed in it was a bunch of papers, some meticulously organized, others not. He flipped open the folder and my mother's picture was on the first page. "How are things going for you and your brother?" He asked with fake excitement. "Is there anything new?" My impatience was dwindling. I had been in this room too many times to play petty games of 'how have you been' or 'anything exciting happening'. "Strait to the point then." Dr. Marcus looked down at the papers. "You know me." Flipping over the first two pages he came to a chart which had a header that read CHEMOTHERAPY. His slender finger went down each row. "Your mother has had fifteen sessions so far. Things are looking up. We are seeing better results than before, but she will still be reviving treatment." "Ok, so the cancer is getting better, you're getting rid of it?" My throat tightened as I scooched to the edge of the seat and rested my arms on his desk. "Well, yes and no." Dr. Marcus was sweating a little bit. He had always had trouble giving people bad news. It was a brain scratcher as to why he stayed in this field. "What do you mean yes and no?" "Well, what I mean is," he looked at my expressionless face, his blue eyes were troubled, his teeth were clenched. Speaking rapidly, he said, "The statistics show that we are clearing up most of the cancer within her lungs." He seemed to be suffering from a dry mouth. "The problem is your mother's asthma and lung condition." As he said this, he closed the folder and moved it to the side of the desk, folding his arms on the table. "Alright, so what about her asthma and lung condition." "Well, I don't think you are allowed to know that information." "Allowed to know? What am I not allowed to know? This is my mother!" "Yes, I understand, but you are also a minor, and under the age of eighteen. You really shouldn't be worrying about this." "Just a kid," I exhaled harshly, "I have been in this office four times now, and all you tell me is that I shouldn't be worrying." "Look, Kristine, you don't know enough about what is going on anyways. It's better if you just focus on your life right now." "Don't know enough," completely discussed and infuriated by this I slammed my hands on the desk and stood up. "I know my mother is suffering from lung cancer, and has been for three and a half years, and because your stupid tests are only sixty-six percent accurate, you were unable to identify and locate the cancer when it would have been best treatable." I now had my index finger pointing at him, he backed away from the desk a bit. He tried standing up. "Kristine," "No, I'm not finished," My voice sounded like gravel coming out of my throat. "Not only did your machines fail to find the cancer, but you took your sweet ass time getting her in one of your fancy rooms after she was sure something was wrong. Now, that is what I know." Dr. Marcus's mouth opened to speak. "What I have gathered," raising my voice to make sure he knew who had the floor, "is that because the cancer has been festering inside her lungs for three and a half years, it has become almost impossible to treat. While you are making progress, you aren't doing nearly enough to make sure she lives through this." Gasping, I tried to regain my breath, I almost let a tear fall. While collecting myself Dr. Marcus stood up, He didn't move much. A wise decision on his part. "Now you are telling me that you have almost all of it cleared up, but there are some minor problems with her asthma and lung condition. Because my mother is stuck in the hospital, I work a part time job to try and pay for all her medical bills, house bills, and weekly groceries; however, because I am under eighteen, you think that I don't need to know what the problem is with her lung condition because I am too young to understand." I made sure the level of sarcasm in that last sentence was above level ten. Mr. Marcus was speechless. His tongue seemed incapable of forming any type of logical phrase. After a few moments he said in a hushed tone, "You know the rules." If only I could take every single one of his dancing plants and throw them at him. Before I could laugh at his lame attempt to answer my lecture, my back pocket vibrated. Pulling out my phone I saw a next message from my colleague at Calypso's Diner. Hey, we need u 2 do a double shift tonight, the house is full and it's a Sunday, be here early. Great. My day has now just improved by a negative eighty percent. "Kristine, if you want to talk about anything," "Nope," this guy is an i***t. I grabbed my bag from the floor by the plaid chair, "no offence, but talking out problems really isn't what I need right now. What I need is to know what is going to happen to my mother and how to pay for the shack that we live in." I turned around and opened the door. "Wait, where are you going?" he almost sounded alarmed. I laughed and held up my phone. "Got called in to work, you know, to pay the family bills." As I walked out, I felt the urge to slam the door behind me, but instead, I got my satisfaction out of making Dr. Marcus close it for me. The diner was on the other side of town, so I had to take the bus. It was January third. Everyone was bustling around, getting ready for school that would resume tomorrow. It was not too horrible of a day. The Christmas lights were all still out, and there was still a little bit of snow on the streets. It was mid-afternoon, but the frost still covered every light post and window. It was usually a relaxing place, but today I really didn't care. It was going to be a long night. Calypso's Diner stays open for twenty-four hours. I usually work the afternoon shift, which starts in about forty-five minutes. I'll work from then to about eight pm. The shift after that goes from eight pm to one am. I've heard that the crowds get rougher the later it gets; I was hoping I would never have to test that theory. The worst thing about it though is that I must be up at five thirty am to make it to the bus stop at seven. I will have all my usual classes, and then I must head back to the dinner for my cross shift. My usual weekend shift starts at three pm, but on weekdays I work from four to nine. Once that shift is over, I then walk back home to study. The next day I repeat, and now I get to start that cycle with four and a half hours of sleep. As I approached the diner, I could see that they had already taken down all the Christmas lights, and all their Christmas sales were off the menu. As you walk in, the best way to describe it would be dull and plain. You had your normal booths to the left and right, with the kitchen in the middle. There were not any pictures on the walls, and some of the lights flickered. They had carpet, but there were stains every yard or so. It was so unkept that you would be surprised that we bring in any money at all. Our manager, who is an old woman who in all honesty doesn't really care about the diner, had to turn this place into a bar in order to bring in enough money to stay afloat. Paychecks aren't as much as most places and we don't get many benefits. I would totally go somewhere else but the other areas only hire eighteen year old's, and they are on the other side of town. Looking over, I could see June bouncing from table to table, taking orders and delivering food. It wasn't until I passed the front counter did she notice me. "Oh look, it's miss too busy." She was holding an empty tray in her left hand and her right was on her shapeless hip. "June, I don't have time for this, could you just tell me which tables I need to take." My voice sounded more tired than I had meant. June wrinkled up her pin like nose and her straight-line smile turned into a slight frown. Shaking her head as if she were looking at a walking dumpster, she said, "You have everything on the left side." I nodded my head. "Are you staying for the night shift?" "tsssss, me?!" Her thin right hand brushed through her red pixie cut. "No, I'm closing the right half at eight. You have everyone else from then till one. Oh, and Prat and May quit so you will be on your own." With a quick spin on her six inch heels, she was off walking back into the kitchen. I knew I should have followed her, but I really just didn't have the energy. Instead, I went around the right side of the kitchen and entered the women's restroom. Walking in, I dumped my jacket and purse on the counter and turned on the faucet. After wetting my hands, I closed my eyes and splashed my face. Looking up, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. In the mirror staring back was a young woman. Her eyes were a dark shade of hazel and there were brown frizzes of hair going everywhere. Grabbing the pick from my purse, I combed it all out. Now it was smooth. Flat with volume. My favorite part was the red highlights. All natural, unlike June's fiery red hair. The face in the mirror was round and had freckles peppered across the bridge of the small nose. My other features, lips, eyebrows, and cheeks were not that great. My lips were thin, and you could see all the dark marks under my eyes. I looked like a zombie. Most say I look nice, but the person in the mirror could pass for being run over by a bus. Breathing out, I wiped the water from my face and opened the first pocket in my purse. Grabbing concealer, I put a few drops under each eye, and then rubbed it all over the dark spots. I then grabbed the blush and blended the color and my skin. After, I took my lip gloss and put a coat over my thin lips. Lastly, I took a hair tie and put my hair up in a high ponytail. Looking in the mirror, I didn't feel as plain. I could feel the makeup on me, but I did not look as dead. I then unbuttoned an extra button on my shirt so that way my necklace would show. It wasn't anything revealing, just enough to see my collar bones and my neck. I then tucked my shirt in and rolled up the sleeves to my elbows. My name tag was at the bottom of my purse but after a round of fishing I finally got it out. Once on, I looked back in the mirror again. I could not help but laugh. I knew I shouldn't have argued with Mr. Marcus today. Arguing takes so much energy away from a person. Now I am at a place where I need it, and don't have it. Quickly, I grabbed my bag and jacket and walked out of the restroom. Turning the corner, I hung my things up on a rack and tied a half apron around my waist. Avoiding the kitchen, I walked over to the left side of the diner and took inventory of all the people over there. Looking up at the clock it was three pm. June had just taken care of the last person over there, and then headed back over to the right side. Taking my place at the front desk, I waited for my first customer. About five minutes later a family of three came in through the doors. There was a mother with tattoos all down her left arm; a daughter who had a nose and eyebrow piercings as well as half her hair shaved off; and a husband, which looked like a sore thumb walking with the other two. He had a button-down shirt and a nice sweater over top. As they came up to the desk, I noticed his slicked back hair. "Could we get a table for three please?" he said. His voice was soft but not meek. He was taller than me, but I didn't mind. He reminded me of Dr. Marcus. I smiled and said, "Of course, right over here please." I grabbed three menus and walked to the far corner on my side of the diner, figuring it might help the poor guy out a little bit. When I pointed to their table the father exclaimed, "Oh! This will be perfect!" the other two didn't seem to care. I then handed each of them their menus. "We currently don't have any specials, and everything is full price. Would I be able to start you off with anything?" I made my voice sound sweet so that they wouldn't glare at me like everyone else today. After I said that the daughter immediately said, "Large root beer," the mom was just as quick, "Same thing," the husband waited just a moment before speaking. "I'll take a medium water please." "I could add a lemon to that if you would like." He looked shocked and relieved. "That would be amazing. Thank you." I laughed. "Anytime." I then turned around and headed to the kitchen. As I walked, that dad crossed my mind. That poor guy. He must have had a rough day. I don't blame him for being relieved for lemon water. Walking through the kitchen doors, I realized that I went in on the left side instead of the right. I can't believe I wasn't paying attention. Before I could turn around Mr. Darrus our cook hollered at me. "I have two plates of flapjacks and syrup on the side." "Um, those aren't mine." "Does it look like I care?" His beady little eyes glared at me, his bushy eyebrows almost making them invisible. "Just get them out of here, I have other things to cook." He ruffled his mustache. It was twice as big as both his eyebrows combined. Behind Mr. Darrus were the drink fountains. After filling and putting their drinks on a platter, I went and grabbed a lemon from the fridge. I lightly placed the lemon on the side of the water cup and walked back out of the kitchen, leaving the flapjacks behind. As I passed through the doors, I heard Mr. Darrus yelling at me. I'll have to deal with that later. I have all night, there will be plenty of hours. When I got back to the table, the family had figured out what they wanted. Turning around, I headed back into the kitchen. "I'm going to need two plates of flapjacks, and one T-bone steak." "What do I look like to you, a waitress?" Mr. Darrus heaved a heavy laugh. "You look like a cook." I said bluntly. "Here's my tab," I put the list of orders on a clothespin and walked out. There were two families waiting at the desk. I hustled over and I gave each family a table. Neither of them needed anything so I headed back into the kitchen. Mr. Darrus had the three plates ready. I grabbed them and took them to the first family. "About time." the daughter said. She looked about my age. "Oh, this is great, thank you." said the dad. "You’re welcome." I then refilled their cups and moved on to the two other families. After jotting down their orders, I went back into the kitchen and clipped the papers up and then headed back to the front desk to help the next people. After seating three more groups I headed back into the kitchen to get the previous orders. When I got there, I started loading up my arms, but the plates weren't arranged right. "Darrus, what's going on here? These aren't the right plates." "What do you mean aren't right, I never mess up a plate." He wasn't even looking. Uggg, he did this on purpose. "I have a full house, and you pulled this?!" "Pulling what? Do you have a problem?" I shook my head. He did make the plates, but out of order. I grabbed the plate closest to me, and the dish on the far left. Then two plates that were in the middle. While balancing them in my arms, I turned around to head back out, but Mr. Darrus was standing in my way, spatula in hand. "I said, do you have a problem?" He stepped closer with his oversized belly. He could have knocked a person over without realizing it. The worst part was that he was so wide, no one could squeeze around him. "With, your cooking, never." I wasn't going to let him win, not this time. He stood there a moment longer, making sure he was wasting time, and then turned back around the corner to finish whatever he had on the grill. Hustling out, I delivered the plates, and seated two more families. I then ran back in and grabbed the next dishes and ran them out as well. After this, I made my way back over to the first family. "How are you guys doing?" "Decent enough. The flapjacks were a little dry." The mom was using a toothpick to clean her teeth. "Don't mind her, the food was great." The husband smiled. "Do you need any boxes?" "No, I think we finished everything, thanks." All three of them stood up and started to leave. The husband stopped and left a twenty dollar tip. "Have a nice evening!" I hollered. He was a nice guy. Picking up their plates, I rushed back into the kitchen, dumping them into the sinks, and then went back to the other tables. At eight pm I had gotten all the families in and out and had seated fifteen others. I still had four tables open, and June was shutting down the right side. Without looking in my direction she walked out, giving a large yawn right where I could see her. Then she was gone.  Back and forth I went, seating people, taking orders, running into the kitchen, running out of the kitchen, taking more orders, and seating more people. Mr. Darrus cep mixing up the dishes, and I cep separating them. By the time ten o’ clock had hit, I had already made a hundred and ten dollars. There were some drunks, but they were few. It wasn't until midnight when I started to feel drowsy. My feet were sore and I was in dire need of Tylenol but there was still an hour left of the night. "Excuse me," a woman was hollering from a center table. "Yes ma'am?"  "I ordered this without sauce, and the whole thing is drenched." "I apologize for that, let me run back in and I'll bring you what you ordered." Running back into the kitchen I could hear a few families trying to get my attention. I couldn't stop because this was getting out of hand. "Darrus!" I let my voice ring through the kitchen. Mr. Darrus was humming a toon to himself while flipping a few hamburgers. "Darrus! What are you doing?!" Turning the corner, Mr. Darrus looked as happy as ever. "Look, you still work here, and the more you pull this the less people will come, meaning you lose money." I hoped this would hit somewhere, but no. He just stood there smiling, flipping his burgers. "I'm going to need a chicken burger with NO sauce, pronto." I dashed back out into the diner, my hair was going everywhere. "Excuse me," a man in the far corner, "how long will you be open?" "We are open for twenty-four hours, but there will be a change in waiters in about thirty-five minutes." He nodded and turned away. Looking back I realized the gall still didn't have her sandwich. I scurried back into the kitchen to pick up the new orders. On the counter was the dry sandwich. "Is this what you ordered Miss?" I held out the dish so she could see the sandwich with no sauce. "Yes, that is what I ordered." After setting down the dish I went back to a few other tables. All of a sudden the clock at the front desk started chiming. One o' clock. "Hey Jesse," the new waiter was off in the corner. "There are a few families left and none of them have ordered yet. You have it from here." He didn't even look up. While shaking my head, I grabbed my coat and purse and walked out the door. Harsh chilly winds carried by Jack Frost circled around me as I trotted through the left over slush. Beep! Beep! An out of control car whizzed past me. Wrapping my coat tighter around, I realized that I had left my winter coat at home. The light drizzle only made it colder. Looking up, I could see multiple lights a few blocks away from me. They were right in front of the bus stop. What were those people thinking? Why would anyone stop their car right in front of a bus stop. As if I had been slapped, I realized that that was the bus, and I was about to miss it. "Wait!" Lumbering through the snow and slush, my legs attempted to catch up to the stationary bus. When I reached the end of the first block the brake lights shut off and the bus started moving forward. "Wait! Please!" By the time my legs had reached the bus stop, the bus was already intertwined with the rest of the traffic. My ride home was gone. Reaching my hand out, I stabilized my wobbly legs on the bench. No, no, no. How could I have missed it? Without even thinking I let the cold rain fall on top of me, soaking my hair and face. My fingers were numb and I couldn't even feel my feet. It was a thirty minute bus ride out of town, and a fifteen minute walk home. That lump in my throat returned. There was no way I was going to get any sleep. Looking back up at the grand clock, it was one fifteen am. Another car buzzed past, spraying water across the sidewalk and on top of my feet. I couldn't say how long I sat their shivering. It was just so cold. The rain washed down my face, or maybe they were tears. I wouldn't know. After the fifth car passed me I looked back up at the clock tower. One twenty-five. The winds were getting harsher. There's no way I'm going to make it without freezing to death. Without instruction, my legs lifted me from the bench and began walking down the road. Step after step after step. Small beads of water flew off of my shoes every time a leg extended. With every mile, the winds blew harder and the rain fell stronger. At about two, I had reached the next bus station. "Berkley." I said, passing the driver and heading to one of the seats. There wasn't a dry spot on me. Upon reaching a seat, my legs collapsed and my head slid up against a window. Closing my eyes, I let the bus engine put me to sleep. "Berkley!" the bus had stopped and the lights were on. My stop. It was still poring and the wind had gotten worse. Turning right on Berkley, I walked toward the trailer park. There were twelve houses in the park, and  each of them seemed to get worse the further in you went. Each one had tin walls and windows, and each had some part that was being harassed by the wind. The screen door on my house, number eleven, was threatening to separate from its hinges and blow away down the road. Each wooden board creaked as I pulled my self up the porch. Abruptly, the screen smacked me, knocking me back down onto the ground. Mud, great. Back up the steps I held up my hand to catch the door. Fumbling with my keys, I finally found the one that would open the house. Door open, I rushed in to hide from the storm.     Inside my little brother was sprawled on the couch and my room was open. My desk chair was turned out, perfect for my wet jacket and purse. Then my phone rang. It was Grace. Ready 4 a new semester!?!?!  Ugg, right. A new semester. Something to look forward to.