Chapter 5 Her Mother's Sickness
She watched the streets pass by, feeling like she was passing through her own life without really being part of it. Like everyone else had decided who she was—and she had no way to change their minds.
When she finally stood to get off the bus, her legs felt weak.
She stepped down onto the road and took a deep breath.
“This too shall pass, Olive,” she told herself.
When Olive got home, the lights in the kitchen were on. Her mother was there, moving around as she prepared something for dinner.
“Olive?” her mother called, as if making sure it was really her who had entered.
“Yeah, Mom,” Olive answered weakly.
She didn’t wait for more. She went straight to her room, dropped her bag, and let her body fall onto the bed. The mattress sank under her weight, and for a moment, she just stared at the ceiling, too tired to even cry.
Her voice came out as a whisper.
“What if I resign…”
She turned her head to the side, staring at the wall this time. Her chest felt tight again, like something was pressing down on it.
If she leaves, the whispers would stop. If she leaves, they wouldn’t look at her like she was guilty. If she leaves, she wouldn’t have to walk through those halls feeling like everyone hated her.
But if she leaves… what would she be?
She had worked so hard to get there. Long nights of studying. Endless shifts. Tears she wiped away in locker rooms and bathrooms where no one could see.
She sat up slowly, hugging her knees.
“If I resign,” she murmured, “then they win.”
That thought hurt more than the whispers.
She lay back down and closed her eyes. Her mother’s voice drifted faintly from the kitchen, calling her name again, but Olive didn’t answer. She didn’t have the strength to explain something she didn’t even understand herself.
Tears finally slipped from the corners of her eyes, silent and warm.
She wasn’t crying loudly. She wasn’t breaking down.
She was just tired—of proving herself, of being strong, of being misunderstood.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered again.
The room stayed quiet.
Only her breathing and the slow beating of her heart reminded her she was still there, still holding on—even when she didn’t know how much longer she could.
Then a thought suddenly slipped into Olive’s mind.
What if I find him?
It sounded impossible—even foolish—but the idea wouldn’t leave her. Maybe he lived near where she found him. Somewhere close to Clerk Bus Stop. Maybe not far from that forest-side road.
If she could find him… If he showed up and told everyone the truth…
Maybe her name could be cleared. Everyone will stop talking about her. And when it happens, she will no longer need to keep her face down every time she is on duty.
Her eyes slowly grew heavy as she kept thinking about it.
She didn’t even realize when her thoughts faded— or when sleep finally took her.
Morning came, and Olive felt like she didn’t want to go to work.
She stared at the ceiling and whispered, “What if I call in sick today?”
She shook her head immediately. Dr. Mathilda hated absences without notice. The nagging alone would be worse than going in tired.
Then her mind went back to the same thought again.
What if I resign? Maybe I could rest for a month. Just one. I, mother, and Chris wouldn’t starve. I have savings—enough for one or two months if we are careful.
But then she thought about her brother’s schooling. He was still in college.
She sighed.
A knock came at her door.
“Olive,” her mother called, “breakfast is ready. I already boiled water for your bath.”
“Coming,” Olive answered.
She got up, fixed her hair in front of the mirror, and stepped out.
Her brother Chris was already at the table. He looked distracted—stealing glances at her. Olive noticed right away.
“What?” she asked. “Do you have something to say?”
She sat across from her mother, Celeste, and beside Chris. He still wasn’t speaking.
“Just say it already,” Olive said. “Stop staring at me.”
Celeste lightly tapped Chris under the table, signaling him to stop. Olive noticed the tension.
Her voice turned firm. “What is it? You’re acting like I’m not even here.”
Chris and Celeste both looked down.
“Sorry,” Chris muttered.
“Mom?” Olive asked, looking at Celeste.
Celeste hesitated, eyes heavy. “Olive… I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Since your father died, you’ve been the one carrying us. And as your mother, I can’t even help you with money. And now… there’s something else that might burden you again.”
“I’m not burdened,” Olive said quickly. “You’re my family. I’ll do everything for you and Chris.”
Chris suddenly spoke. “Mom is sick.”
Olive froze.
“She needs surgery. As soon as possible.”
The words didn’t sink in at first. Then her eyes filled with tears.
“What?” she whispered. “Why didn’t I know? How long have you been hiding this from me?”
“We just found out yesterday,” Celeste said quickly. “I was going to tell you after your duty, but you looked so tired. I didn’t want to add more to you.”
Chris swallowed. “She called me when I was in school. She couldn’t breathe well. I went home and took her to the hospital. They did tests… and found out she has a heart problem.”
Olive’s voice trembled. “Why didn’t you call me? What hospital did you go to?”
“We didn’t want to,” Celeste said softly. “We know you’re always on duty. And that strict doctor of yours—she might scold you if she saw you taking calls.”
Olive pulled her hand back, wiping her face. “Mom! What did the doctor say? What kind of surgery?”
“They said it’s a valve problem,” Chris answered. “They can fix it, but it’s not cheap.”
Olive nodded slowly, forcing herself to breathe. "How much does it cost?"
Chris and Celeste looked at each other.
“Just say it, please,” Olive said. “I need to know.”
Celeste spoke carefully. “Even with government help, it’s still more than what we have.”
Olive sat back down. Her hands were shaking, so she pressed them together.
“I was thinking of resigning,” she said quietly. “Just for a while. I’m so tired.”
Celeste’s head snapped up. “No. Don’t do that because of me.”
“But now I can’t,” Olive continued. “We need the money. We need my job.”
Chris looked guilty. “I am sorry, this is my fault too. I should’ve worked part-time by now.”
“No,” Olive said quickly. “Your job is to finish school. That’s how you help us. Do you understand me?”
Silence filled the table.