Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
A MOMENT OF DOUBT
Celeste
But things change when I see my mother. She resides in a modest two-bedroom apartment in Palm, a working-class area of Los Angeles, with my sister, Lexi, a sophomore at UCLA.
Lex has just been accepted into the Film and Television BA program at UCLA, with the ambitious goal of pursuing a master’s degree.
Her ultimate aspiration is to become the fourth woman to win an Oscar for directing, following in the footsteps of her idols, Kathryn Bigelow, Chloé Zhao, and Jane Campion.
Throughout the history of the Academy Awards, it was striking that only three women had ever won the prestigious directing award.
And I’m certain that Lex would one day join that elite group.
“Hey, Mom,” I say as I enter the dingy apartment with the worn carpeting and moldy ceilings, which is all she can afford, especially right now.
She’s sitting in her easy chair in the living room, sleeping in front of the TV.
I join her, placing my hand on hers. Her skin feels cold to the touch, as if her circulation isn’t working properly.
She’s lost a significant amount of weight, possibly around 20 pounds or more, weight she can’t afford to lose.
Her scalp is now completely bald, and she wears a scarf to cover it up.
My beautiful mother has transformed into a shadow of her former self.
Seeing her shatters my heart. However, I remain steadfast in my belief that she will overcome this challenge.
Her cancer was diagnosed in Stage 3, which is not the most best stage, but it’s not the worst either.
She has a good chance of survival, with a 80% chance of recovery.
I was determined that my mother wouldn’t be one of the 20% who don’t make it through at this stage of cancer.
She smiles weakly. “Celeste,” she says. “I’m so glad to see you.” Then, she closes her eyes, wraps her blanket tighter around her, and drifts back to sleep.
Lexi emerges from her room. “Hey, Celeste,” she says to me. Then, she gestures towards Mom. “She can’t go back to work,” she explains. “She wants to, but she can’t. Her doctors have advised her to rest as much as possible to allow her body to heal.”
“I understand,” I reply. “I’ll just keep giving you money every month like I’ve been doing and you and Mom will be fine.
” Since Mom fell ill and lost her job, things have been really tight.
She lacked savings, and the rent for this apartment is $2,500 per month.
Although it’s an extremely modest two-bedroom apartment that has lots of issues, this is Los Angeles, and $2,500 per month doesn’t go far.
I’ve been struggling to help them cover rent, utilities and food, in addition to my own mortgage and expenses. However, if I have to do it, I will.
Lexi shakes her head. “Sis, we genuinely appreciate your help. Believe me, we do. But I need to drop out of UCLA.” She lowers her head.
“My job has offered me a position in their restaurant management program. I can go into management training, earning $25 per hour while in training instead of my current $18 per hour. And I’ll be working full-time instead of part-time.
Then I can jump into management, starting out at $70,000 a year.
I need to take this opportunity, Celeste.
” She motions to Mom. “We can’t afford for me not to. ”
Lexi currently works as a hostess at the Mastro’s Ocean Club, a renowned fine-dining restaurant located on the beach in Malibu.
While she’s in school, she works part-time.
This job enables her to contribute to the cost of rent, food, and utilities, but it barely makes a dent in her tuition, which stands at $13,000 annually.
While it may not be astronomical, it certainly isn’t affordable.
Fortunately, Lex has always been a driven student and has qualified for numerous scholarships.
I blink in disbelief. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Lex, you can’t do that,” I say. “You have big dreams and goals. You’ve wanted to be a movie director since you were five years old.”
I recall the days when she was a young child, directing our parents and me in her own self-written plays.
Even then, she displayed exceptional talent.
Being a movie director was her sole aspiration from the time she was a kid, and now she’s telling me she wants to abandon film school for a restaurant management program?
“I understand, Celeste, but UCLA is a luxury we can’t afford. I need a full-time income, not a part-time one, and we simply can’t afford my school expenses anymore. I know I’m on scholarship, but-“
“But what? You know how competitive film school is. You’ll want to get back in, and they won’t save a place for you,” I shake my head.
“I can’t let you do this, Lex. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
Every time the Oscars comes on in the future, your heart will break because you’re not up there yourself accepting that statuette. ”
“Celeste, we have to be realistic,” she says. “There’s nothing wrong with restaurant management, especially for a place like Mastro’s. It’s a beautiful place, and when I become a manager, I can make six figures.”
I sigh. “Lexi, there’s nothing wrong with managing a restaurant.
I mean, I hear it’s a beyond-stressful job with long hours, lots of people complaining, and you have to know numbers and be able to be firm but fair with all your staff.
Running a restaurant doesn’t look like fun when I watch Kitchen Nightmares.
It looks like a nightmare just like the title says.
But none of that is the point. The point is, you’re turning your back on your dream. ”
I know about dreams dying. God, do I know.
But I can't think about that now. This isn't about me.
It's about Lexi and Mom. Lexi still has a chance.
Me? Every rejection letter is another shovelful of dirt on the grave of my screenwriting career.
But Lexi is ALIVE with possibility. She HAS to make it.
If I have to bleed myself dry, if I have to marry the devil himself, if I have to sacrifice every last thing I am—she will get what I couldn't. She has to. She HAS to.
Lexi takes a deep breath. “Celeste, I didn’t want to tell you this. I didn’t want to worry you, but-“
I brace myself. Lexi is serious now, something she rarely is.
“Go on,” I say.
Lexi's hand trembles as she pulls the envelope from the stack of mail.
The red stamp across the front screams before I even open it.
Eviction. The paper burns in my fingers, each typed word a hammer blow.
Thirty days. My throat closes. I've been draining my account every month, eating ramen for dinner, canceling my phone insurance—and for what?
The landlord might as well have signed it in our blood.
Of course this happened. Mom hasn't earned a dime since her diagnosis in January.
The emergency fund vanished by March. Now she's juggling rent on her two-bedroom in Palm while Lexi's textbooks pile up on the counter next to unpaid electric bills.
Even before cancer, they were just one missed paycheck away from homelessness.
I can’t afford to do more than I’ve been doing. I’ve been giving every extra penny to Mom and Lex, but it’s not enough.
It's not right. Not after everything. Mom's hands used to bleed from cleaning rich people's bathrooms all day before heading to the Wal-Mart store for the night shift.
I still remember her soaking those raw fingers in ice water at 2 AM, whispering "it's worth it" when she caught me watching from the hallway. She later worked three jobs at the same time - as a Denny’s waitress, a Wal-Mart checker and a medical transcriptionist. She worked her fingers to the bone to make sure Lexi and I had everything we needed.
Dad's been gone since the skiing accident, and she never complained once. Now I can’t keep her afloat when she needs me?
And if I fail them, the consequences will ripple beyond just Mom. Lexi's future hangs in the balance too.
“No,” I say. “You’re not quitting school. I’ll figure it out.”
“Celeste, you can’t. You’ve been giving us all you can give for the past nine months. You can’t give anymore unless you want to move in here. And, no offense, I love ya, sis, but there’s no room for you here.”
And there’s not room in my condo either. I’m buying a two-bedroom in Claremont, and I’m only making my mortgage with the help of my best friend, Olivia.
I suddenly realize I might not have a choice. I think about the offer to marry Max Kensington in exchange for $250,000. I’d only have to stay married for a year to get that money.
Why I was the one chosen for this, I don’t know.
What I do know is I need to take that offer.
I hope and pray it’s still on the table.
“Lex, don’t worry,” I say. “Don’t do anything until I talk to you next. Don’t tell the Mastro people you’ll be a part of their restaurant management training program and certainly don’t inform UCLA you’re dropping out. Okay? Promise me you’ll do those things. Promise me, Lexi.”
She nods. “Okay. I’ll promise you. But what are you going to do, Celeste?”
I take a deep breath. “Something I might regret.” Then I shake my head. “No. I won’t regret anything that’ll keep you guys in this apartment and you in school.” I kiss her on the cheek and hug her. “It’s going to be okay.”
I pray I’m telling the truth.