Chapter 5 #2
My heart clenches as I realize I didn’t see him awake at all today.
I left before he got up for breakfast, and he was already in bed when I got home.
I missed everything. I don’t know if he had a good day or a bad one, if he asked Keshia to read him The Cat in the Hat or if he built something with his Legos.
I don’t know if he took his medicine without complaining or if he asked where Mommy was.
I step into his room and gently brush the hair back from his forehead. His face is completely relaxed in sleep, peaceful and innocent. He’s been so good about everything; the doctor visits, the daily medications, the way our life has suddenly become all about his heart condition.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m trying to fix this.”
But I’m failing him, aren’t I? I’m working myself to death trying to pay for his care, and in the process, I’m missing out on actually being his mother.
I pull his blanket up to his chin and reluctantly leave his room.
Later on, in the kitchen, Keshia finds me with my laptop and a calculator, surrounded by bills and bank statements.
“What are you up to?”
“Trying to figure out how fucked we are.” I turn the screen toward her to show her my spreadsheet. “Austin’s medications are four hundred a month. And that’s with insurance. The hospital bills are starting to roll in. And I’m exhausted from working doubles just to keep up.”
Keshia sinks into the chair across from me. “You look like hell, Nina.”
“I feel like it, too.” My voice cracks a little. “I’m supposed to be taking care of him, but I’m barely keeping my head above water. There has to be a better way.”
Keshia leans forward. “What about finding a different job? Something that pays better?”
“Like what? I’ve got a high school diploma and six years of waitressing experience. It’s hardly a recipe for career advancement.” I close the laptop and rub my temples.
“There must be something,” Keshia insists. “Maybe office work? Or retail management?”
“Office work that pays enough to cover his medical expenses? I’d be starting at the bottom, probably making minimum wage. And retail management?” I laugh bitterly. “That’s sixty-hour weeks for maybe a couple dollars more an hour. I’d still never see Austin.”
We sit in silence for a moment, both of us staring at the bills scattered across the table. I feel so damn helpless.
“Actually,” Keshia says slowly, “I might know of something. But you probably won’t like it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “At this point, I’m open to anything.”
She takes a deep breath. “One of my yoga clients works at a gentlemen’s club.
She mentioned they’re looking for new dancers.
” Keshia holds up a hand when I open my mouth to object.
“Before you say no, hear me out. She makes about two thousand a week, working just evenings. You’d have your days free to spend with Austin. ”
Two thousand a week. That’s more than I make in a month at the diner.
But still.
“Stripping,” I say flatly.
“Dancing,” Keshia corrects. “And think about it logically. You’re already working sixteen-hour days for a fraction of that money. This would give you both the money Austin needs for his medical care and the time to actually be his mother.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve been so focused on working more hours that I’ve barely seen Austin awake in the past two weeks.
And those pole fitness classes we took last year? I was actually good at that.
“I’d have to get naked in front of strangers,” I point out.
“You’d be making enough money to give Austin the life he deserves,” Keshia counters. “And this isn’t about pride or shame, Nina. It’s about you having the chance to actually be present with him. Isn’t that what matters most?”
That hits harder than I’d like to admit. When’s the last time I saw Austin awake on a workday? When’s the last time I felt like more than a machine running on fumes?
I think about him in that hospital bed, how small and vulnerable he looked. I think about all the bedtime stories I’ve missed and will keep missing if I stay on this path.
“What’s the name of the club?” I ask.
Keshia’s face lights up with relief. “It’s called Velvet Nights. My client says the management is professional, they have good security, and the money really is that good if you’re willing to work for it.”
I nod slowly. “Okay. I’ll call them tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I look toward Austin’s bedroom, where my son is sleeping soundly, unaware of the impossible choices I’m making for his future. “I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of him. If that means dancing naked for money, then I guess that’s what I’m doing.”
It’s not the choice I would have made a month ago. But a month ago, I didn’t know my son had a heart condition. A month ago, I thought hard work and determination would be enough.
Now I know better.
Sometimes doing whatever it takes means swallowing your pride and making choices you never thought you would. Sometimes being a good mother means becoming someone you never thought you’d be.
I can live with strangers seeing my body, if it means Austin gets to live.