Aria
“Get away from my presence!” Mr. Wales scorned. “I don't need a sick person working for me. The customers are complaining!”
He pushed me out of his coffee shop, turning deaf ears to my pleas. My colleagues watched in pity.
“Poor girl,” one of the customers said, shaking her head.
“Give me one last chance, Mr. Wales,” I begged. “I’ll do better.”
“Go to the fucking hospital, you need help.” He shoved me out into the rain, slamming the door at me.
I stared into space, fighting hard to swallow my tears, but they came rushing down mixing the raindrops that had begun to soak my clothes.
I turned away, walking down the road as the rain drenched my clothes. But I didn't care, that was the least of my worries.
My hands trembled as I clutched my worn purse against my chest. I was getting weak and tired, my legs trembled as I walked.
This was the fourth job I'd lost this month. Each time, it was the same story. The involuntary movements, the occasional slurred speech, the way customers would stare and whisper whenever I had an episode. Nobody wanted to employ someone who looked like they were drunk or on drugs.
I was dying. At least that's what the doctors said. I have just six months left to live and my sister’s lying on the hospital bed, her life hanging by the thread.
I needed to work. I needed to save us. I can't afford to watch my sister die like my mother from this same disease. Lucia is all I have and for her sake, I will fight.
“Take care of your sister, Aria.” Those were my mother's last words before her eyes closed forever.
The rain poured harder, soaking through my thin jacket. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Dr. Martinez's name flashed on the cracked screen. My heart sank deeper into my chest as I answered.
“Aria, you missed your appointment this morning,” his gentle voice was laced with concern that made my throat tighten. “We need to discuss your latest test results.”
“I can't afford the consultation fee right now,” I whispered, ducking under a shop awning. “Can we... can we postpone it?”
“Aria, this is about your health. Huntington's Disease is not a joke. The progression of your condition…”
“My sister comes first,’ I cut him off, hating how my voice cracked. “Always. How is she today?”
The pause on the other end told me everything I needed to know. “You should come see her. Room 204 has been... there have been some changes.”
“Changes?”
I ended the call.
The bus ride to St. Mary's Hospital felt like an eternity. Every bump in the road sent jolts through my aching body. I pressed my face against the rain-streaked window, watching the city blur past. Somewhere in this concrete jungle, healthy people were living normal lives, going to jobs they wouldn't lose, sleeping in beds they owned, loving people who weren't slowly dying.
The hospital's antiseptic smell hit me like a wall when I walked through the automatic doors. It was a scent I knew too well. My sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as I made my way to the elevator.
As I walked past a particular ward, memories I dread came flooding back.
“Mom, no!!” I cried, jerking my mom's lifeless body. She died on my lap, her body cold.
Cold shivers ran down my spine as tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. The feeling was strange.
My dad held onto Lucia who just stared blankly at my mom's body. My dad stylishly wiped tears off his face.
It was a traumatizing moment for my family.
My mom was our rock. After my father lost his job, she worked different jobs to cater for the bills and pay off our debts. While my father worked as a janitor at a construction company.
During her night shift at a restaurant, we got a call from one of her colleagues that she had passed out and had been rushed to the hospital. She was diagnosed with Huntington’s Disease and died three months later.
My dad soon followed suit, after he was shot by his creditors for not paying his debts on time.
I wiped the tears off my face as I opened the door to room 204, Lucia’s ward. I was taken aback by the emptiness of the ward. There was no Lucia in bed.
My heart raced with fear and possibilities.
The bed was stripped bare, medical equipment unplugged and pushed to one corner. Panic clawed at my chest as I spun around, searching for any sign of my sister. A nurse walked by, and I grabbed her arm perhaps too forcefully.
“Where's Emma Cole? She was in this room. She's been here for two years!”
The nurse's expression shifted to one of practiced sympathy, the look healthcare workers wore. “She's been moved to the general ward. You'll need to speak with the administration about the outstanding balance.”
My legs felt like they might give out. “What outstanding balance? I've been making payments!”
“Twenty-seven thousand dollars,” she said quietly. “I'm sorry, but partial payments aren't enough anymore.”
I let go of her, running towards the general ward. The general ward was a nightmare. Unlike the semi-private room Emma had been in, this place was overcrowded and understaffed. Patients were crammed together, separated only by thin curtains that offered no privacy. The smell was worse here, unwashed bodies mixed with medicine.
I found Emma in the far corner, looking so small and fragile in the narrow bed. Her face had hollowed out even more since my last visit. The Huntington's had progressed faster in her than in me, stealing her speech and motor control while leaving her mind trapped inside a body that no longer obeyed.
“Em?” I whispered, taking her cold hand in mine. Her eyes were shut, for two years I haven't seen those pretty green eyes.
“Ma'am, you need to come with me.” A stern voice interrupted my moment. I turned to see a hospital administrator in an expensive suit, flanked by two security guards.
I stepped out with them. “We've been patient, Miss Cole, but your sister's medical bills are severely overdue. If payment isn't received by the end of this month, we'll have no choice but to discharge her.”
“Discharge her?” My voice rose higher than I intended. “She can't survive at home! She needs medical care!”
“That's not our concern anymore. This is a business, not a charity.” He hissed.
The words hit me like physical blows. I sank to my knees right there in the hallway, not caring who was looking. “Please, I'm begging you. Give me more time. I'll find the money somehow. She's all I have left in this world.”
The administrator's face remained impassive. “End of the month, Miss Cole. No exceptions.”
As I knelt there on the cold hospital floor, rain from my soaked clothes created a small puddle around me. My heart broke. Tears streamed down my face. My lips trembled. I no longer have a job, how do I raise over a hundred thousand dollars within a week!
