Page 14 of The Good Char (Soul Taker)

KIMMY

My new apartment was sparse, but it was the best I could do while divvying up the money I currently had appropriately. I needed to play it smart if I was to be successful.

If my parents found out I snuck out to buy an apartment and failed, I wouldn’t be able to live it down. It would be worse than when they found out about me working at The Good Char.

“What now, Kimmy? You got a roof over your head and a chair that came with the apartment. How are you going to sleep?” A few tenants scurried across the room's floor. Ewww, okay, bug spray was a must. When one ran up the wall, I watched him like a hawk and screamed as it took flight.

I bit my bottom lip and sucked in my pride.

There was no way around it. I was going to have to stay at my parents house.

These flying creatures gave me the heebie jeebies.

That settled it, I needed a few more days to figure something out.

Maybe I could look up used furniture in the paper, just for the time being.

I cringed at the thought of a used mattress. Who knew what kind of cooties it had?

“Ugh!”

I threw my hand in the air before hanging my head. Maybe I was going to have to stay with my parents for another month, save up some more money while working for Mr. Dzik.

I wanted to cry. My dreams deflated as I slowly backed away and locked the door to my apartment.

Sniffing, I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and startled when I saw a man down the hall stare at me.

He gave me a soft smile and I gave one back before leaving the building in embarrassment at having been caught in my feelings in front of a stranger.

I needed to make sure I saved face despite how much of a mess I was feeling on the inside. I didn’t need anymore gossip to reach my parents’ ears.

Swinging my leg over my bicycle seat, I pedaled back to my parents’ house and let the air dry the tears on my cheeks.

Walking my bicycle to the side of the house, I internally gave myself a pep talk before I walked through the front door.

My parents sat at the kitchen table, my mother sipping her tea quietly as my dad flipped through the newspaper. No words were exchanged as I nimbly walked up the stairs with as little sound as possible and prepared for a shower.

I needed to relax my muscles and wash away the evidence of the day. In fact, I lost my appetite on the way here with thoughts of how much cooking tools would cost for my new apartment.

Maybe Mr. Dzik will allow me to take some of the leftover corndogs home after the shop closes. I never knew what he did with them and assumed he just threw them away because he always made a new batch when I arrived.

Massaging my scalp, I yelped in surprise when my restroom door slammed open.

“Kimmy, don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” came my mother’s voice.

With my hands placed over my soapy private parts, I stared through the privacy glass door of my shower.

“W-What do you mean? Mom, I’m showering right now. Can’t this wait?” I pleaded. But to my dismay, she lowered the toilet lid and sat down. What was happening right now?

“You, working for a man! You have been acting so strange. I think I know what it is, your maternal instincts are kicking in. Of course, they are, with the age you are. You’re waiting too long.

And if this is a need you are trying to fulfill, just let me know.

Mrs. Chen, our favorite customer, has been telling us about her handsome and wealthy son who had gone back to the motherland to help out his aunt.

He is a good boy, the kind of boy that would be good for you.

He’s a lawyer too. He knows about sacrifice.

You can’t keep working with someone we haven’t heard much about at the mall.

It’s unsightly, Kimmy. Think of the family. ”

She gasped dramatically and I braced myself for the next frantic onslaught.

“Have you been doing sex things with your boss?” she wailed.

“Mom!”

“Kimmy! Men are predatory creatures who only want to do things with you for a few minutes and then you are stuck with them. They’ll take you and while you are staring up at the ceiling the next thing you know they’re snoring and you have to pretend it was amazing.”

Were we still talking about me? Good grief! I needed to stop her before I begged the universe to swallow me whole. “Are we really doing this? Please! Have mercy. I need to shower!”

“What will your father say? He will blame me for raising you this way because you are a daughter and I am your mother. Would you do that to me? I can’t be the talk of the town. We’ve worked too hard to build what we have. How can you not think of us, Kimmy?”

I stopped responding. It was no use. I was still full of soap and the water was beginning to cool.

She continued a few more minutes about disgrace and her struggle with saving face when some of the other families were asking her about when I was going to get married and bring forth children.

“All I could think about were hotdogs. You can’t make children with hotdogs, Kimmy!

You need stability like what the restaurant offers.

Or through marrying a doctor or a lawyer like Mrs. Chen’s son.

You need to keep on track so your eggs don’t dry up by the time you find a man. Kimmy! Are you listening to me?”

I sighed and continued to shower despite having an audience. There was no way around it. “Yes, Mom.”

She rambled as I finished up washing my hair in silence besides a few mumbles of ‘yes’. Finally, tired of berating me through a shower door, she huffed then got up and left.

My heart was on the floor, swirling in the drain with the rest of the water as I turned it off and stepped out to grab a towel.

I chuckled to myself as I thought about how sweaty I was today, desperately wanting to cool to finally coming home… to a cold shower because my mother refused to let me shower in peace.

“Just a month, Kimmy. Maybe a few weeks. You can do this,” I whispered to myself as I wiped my hand across the foggy glass cabinet.

Red rimmed my eyes and I sniffed, wiping them with the towel before taking a deep breath and truly staring at my reflection, wondering when it would show who I truly was on the inside—who I truly believed I could be, Mrs. Independent.

Quietly, I got dressed in my pajamas as my mother called my name from the first floor, letting me know there was food ready.

I couldn’t stomach it. Not after her lecture. And I couldn’t face my dad who possibly had his own lecture waiting.

I towel dried my hair as best as I could before sitting at the edge of my bed, staring out my window into the darkness.

Was my mother right? Was it more imperative of me to think of a future, a husband and bringing forth a family?

I couldn’t swallow the fact that I would be bringing them into this vicious cycle of always struggling to survive through family business.

What if my child had different aspirations and dreams? What if my child was like me?

How could I tell her she was in the land of the free where dreams came true if I didn’t lead by example in pursuing my own?

I let my body fall back and turned to my side.

My mother called for me again but I closed my eyes, letting a tear fall onto the sheet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.