I sit with that, the simplicity of her answer both shocking and enviable.Wouldn’t it be easier if I could be content?
A flicker of dedication lights me up again.I dive back into my follow-up story, determined to impress Luna.
A new email from Luna hits my inbox.Subject line:New Restaurant Opening.Pulse & Co, Soft Launch Tonight.
Of course.Another food feature.My fourth this month.
It’s not that the food isn’t good.It’s just… how many ways can I describe a tasting plate before I start to sound like a menu myself?
I close the email without reading the rest.
The office clears out at five, but I stay until five-thirty, as usual.That extra half-hour feels like a quiet promise to myself.A reminder that I’m willing to go the extra mile.
Before I head out, I look through my socials.I’m mid-scroll when a video auto-plays on my feed.It’s my sister, Aurora, standing on a rooftop in LA, the skyline behind her.First week as a junior buyer at Bloomingdale’s.Still feels surreal,her caption reads, followed by three champagne emojis and the hashtag#PostGradDreams.
A hollow ache settles in my chest.People always leave… for school, for jobs, for something bigger.And I stay.Even Aurora, my little sister, she’s twenty-three and already living the life I used to dream about.
I used to imagine myself in a city like that, going after stories that set my heart on fire.I even had the application saved for a job in New York.
But then Mom was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation a few years ago.The bills piled up.And here I am, watching someone else live the life I wanted, while I write about turkeys hijacking luxury vehicles.
Mom used to teach art at the elementary school.She loved it, always came home with glitter in her hair and paint on her sleeves.But since the flare-up a few months ago, the dizzy spells and the new meds, she’s been on medical leave.She says it’s just until things stabilize, but I’ve seen the way she touches her chest when she thinks no one’s looking.She hasn’t been back to the classroom yet, and I’m not sure when she will.
Fifteen minutes later, I pull into our large circular driveway, climb the three steps to the front door, and let myself in with my key.The noise hits me instantly.Home.
I’m the oldest of seven.A chaotic, wonderful mix of boys and girls.At twenty-seven, I carry the invisible badge of eldest child responsibilities.Ignoring the noise of the kids, I drop my bag in my room and head to the living room, where Mom’s curled up on the sofa, her face a little paler than usual.I tell myself not to overthink it.She’s just tired.Still, a twist curls in my stomach.
“Hey.”I lean down to kiss her cheek.“Have you eaten?”
She blinks up at me, smiling.“Not yet.Just needed to rest a bit first.”
“I’ll get started.What would you like for dinner?”
“I’ll help.”She slowly rises.“I hadn’t planned anything in particular.”
I hold out my hand.“No, you rest.I’ve got it.”
“I’m sick of resting.That’s all I do.”She waves me off.
I glance at her as she walks into the kitchen, noticing how carefully she moves, the way she pauses slightly when catching her breath.
“Mom,” I say softly behind her.
Grabbing vegetables from the fridge, she lays them on the counter.
“How are you feeling today?”I grab a knife, cutting board, and pot.
I wait, expecting her usual answer while chopping broccoli.But stay hopeful for something different.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.“I’m fine, sweetheart.Just a little tired.”
I put the knife down gently.“You don’t have to pretend with me.”
With a sigh, she leans against the counter.“I know.But worrying about it won’t change anything.I’m managing.”
I watch her from the corner of my eye as we work.Her breathing is shallow again, the kind that barely reaches past her ribs and makes me worry.She used to glide through the kitchen, humming, wiping down counters, stirring sauce, or checking on the oven.Now she has to pause just to catch her breath.
A tightness builds in my chest as my mind races.What if I don’t get that promotion?What if something happens to her, and I can’t afford the hospital bills?What if I’m not enough to hold all this together?Will I be forced to tell my siblings about our financial situation?
