Page 11 of The Good Char (Soul Taker)

KIMMY

Walking my bicycle to the side of the house, I could feel my shoulders droop from the day’s events. I leaned my mode of transportation against the wall before slowly making my way to the front door, my mind still whirring over what the woman said to me, my mistake, and how I clammed up in response.

If it wasn’t for Mr. Dzik, I would have melted to the floor like the wicked witch from all her glaring and harsh words. But he saved me. He saved my dignity as he expertly took over and handled everything with ease.

I mean, I wouldn’t have personally chosen some of his words but the results were the same.

Exhaustion consumed my every step as I trudged up the few porch stairs toward the sanctuary of my house.

My body ached from all the cleaning I had to do after the ordeal, and my mind yearned for a moment of respite.

I was glad to be away from the crowd for once, though there was a slight longing for Mr. Dzik’s constant presence to give me a sense of security.

I couldn’t very well bring him home with me though and I couldn’t stay there after the store was closed.

With a deep exhale, I turned the doorknob and crossed the threshold without looking. Little did I know, I was entering into a lion's den of parental interrogation. They wasted no time in bombarding me with their incessant and pessimistic questions.

"So, have you managed to embarrass our family today?"

The words pierced me like a dagger to my chest. My day was already rough, and now I had to come home to this? Was it truly this hard to be an independent woman? How did everyone do it?

Maybe that was why most of the other Asians I knew in the neighborhood continued to help with their family business even beyond marriage.

I tried my best to ignore the way her words made me feel. Did she purposely choose those words to be her first? More than likely. But I had to keep in mind that they never once gave me their approval and that it was me who went behind their back to make this decision.

Without talking back, I made my way toward my room quietly with my head hung down.

"I've had enough," my father said with a chilling finality. "Young lady, turn around and stand before me this instant."

My back tensed and my hand froze on the railing. My heart pounded inside of my chest and my mouth went dry. Blinking back a few unshed tears, I took a deep breath and did as I was told.

Fear coiled inside of my gut like a snake ready to strike and take me down. I wanted to be brave. I wanted to stand up for my choices. I couldn’t go back to the restaurant, not after the way Mr. Dzik stood up for me. He deserved a stronger employee and I was willing to work hard to become that.

I reluctantly approached my father and made extra sure to not drag my feet loudly. I took a discreet deep breath inward and exhaled through my mouth while keeping my eyes casted downward.

"I will no longer stand idly by while you tarnish my name. Either you quit that job of hotdog dipping or you are disowned," he spat, jabbing a finger in my face. I could only imagine his scowl etched across his face. Their disapproval made it hard for me to breathe through my nose.

My heart stopped.

"Harold, please don't say that," my mother pleaded with a broken voice.

I watched as my tears dripped onto the floor and part of my shoe. Biting my bottom lip, I swallowed all my words down and tried to force myself to think of the day, I would finally fly from this nest that was threatening to suffocate me.

I knew my parents loved me. How could they not. But it was moments like this, I didn’t think I could survive much longer. It was why I always chose to see the brighter side of things. Because life was just a sequence of choices, wasn’t it? I wanted so desperately to choose a happier way.

I could feel his fiery gaze burn into the top of my head. "Kimmy. What is your choice?”

I closed my eyes and let the rest of the tears fall as the words slipped from my lips, barely audible. "I'm moving out."

I then did something my younger self would never have been brave enough to do. I sniffed, turned away, and retreated toward my room without waiting to be dismissed.

Their voices blended into a cacophony of argument as I ascended the hallway.

"Harold! What have you done? With her background of possible murder and drug use, you're going to throw her onto the streets? Oh no, our baby will be forced to strip for dollars, Harold! What are you doing to my only daughter?" my mother wailed in despair.

"She made her decision. Now she will live with it. You have forty-eight hours, and I expect a well written two week notice to be handed to me for my approval," my father called out after me, his voice echoing through the house right before I quietly shut my bedroom.

Placing my head against the door, I sniffed and hugged myself as I continued to eavesdrop on their muffled argument below.

“Oh, Harold. Our baby can't survive on the unforgiving streets. She’ll simply wither away and die. What would happen to our lineage? Don’t you want grandchildren to pass our family name? How could you?” she cried.

“You worry too much, Margie,” he chastised her.

“You know that girl knows she won’t make it out there without us.

You might as well make room in the back offices again for her return.

Our restaurant has missed her meticulous way of bookkeeping.

She’ll see, soon enough, that all of this is just a phase. We’ll be alright.”

A phase? How could he call my need for independence a phase? I couldn’t be the only twenty three year old in this world with the same desires.

I gritted my teeth and softly planted my fist against the door beside my face. What would Mr. Dzik do? He was so brave, so courageous, so strong. I needed to pull from his strength today.

Panic coursed through my veins at the thought of really going through leaving.

I never wanted it to be this way. I always dreamt of my move day as a happy experience with my mother gushing over what kind of furniture we needed to buy in order to match the table I was probably going to pick up from a rummage sale one of these days.

But as much as I tried to convince myself of positive outcomes, I knew in the back of my mind this was a possibility. That was why I had already researched what I needed to do in order to move into my first apartment.

With a dry gulp, I pulled my head away from the door, wiped my face and pulled up my big girl panties.

How much money did I have in my savings?

In a frenzy, I dashed toward my kitty bank and hopped onto the edge of my bed.

Turning it over to its cute little belly, I pulled out the rubber stopper and reached in with my little fingers, digging around and patiently pulling out all its contents.

Frantically, I rummaged through the scattered coins, and neatly rolled and bound up wads of cash. I counted them with trembling hands, my eyes burning with tears at what had to be done.

I sniffed and flicked my gaze to the door, listening intently. I didn’t hear any more arguments, so I quietly counted the grand total of what I had.

“Nine-hundred dollars,” I whispered. What were the odds? The perfect amount without any trailing cents. It was meant to be. It had to be now. Now or never.

I had always been the one to turn to when my classmates needed to cheat on their math test and now the skill was to my advantage.

According to my calculation, I needed the amount for the first month, a deposit, and possibly a deposit for light and water.

Yes, no one ever died without water. I needed water.

That was enough to get me through to the next paycheck.

Thank you Mr. Dzik for taking a chance on me.

I knew there was a reason why you came into my life. If only Cindy could see me now. She wouldn’t dare make fun of me anymore. I was going to be Mrs. Independent!

Missus.

Who would I be a missus to?

Flashes of Mr. Dzik in his black outfit and his corndog apron came before me and I could feel my face flame.

“Calm down, Kimmy. One thing at a time. You can’t put the horse in front of the carriage.”

I sniffed. I didn’t even have a carriage. My trusty bicycle would have to do, for now.

Looking over my treasure once again, I felt my courage swell within my chest. “That should be more than enough to find a place," I beamed, a spark of determination igniting within me.

I would show them both that I was capable of standing on my own two, size six and a half, feet.