Chapter 2

Mom returned shortly after Dad left with Renee. She sat down beside my bed and spoke softly.

"Rhea, I asked the doctor. Your condition isn't serious. You just need some anti-inflammatory medication. We have enough medicine at home.

"Staying in the hospital for a day costs a fortune. It's not easy for us to earn money, and we still have to look after Renee. You've always been sensible. You'll understand, right?"

After saying all that, she handed me the discharge papers and a liability waiver.

"Mom." I lifted my right hand, which was hooked up to the IV. "Help me sign it. I can't use my hand."

Mom gave me a sheepish smile. "You're an adult now. How can I sign for you? It only counts if you sign it yourself."

She slid the agreement toward me and uncapped the pen for me.

I scanned the liability waiver. My eyes lingered for a few seconds on the line stating, "If the patient chooses to leave against medical advice, they assume full responsibility for any resulting consequences."

Mom enrolled Renee and me in after-school classes when we were younger. Even though she kept saying that she treated us equally, the very day she signed us up, she told me how hard things were for our family and how hard she and Dad worked to provide for us.

The next day, I withdrew from the classes on my own.

I didn't realize until much later that all the classes I'd given up had simply been given to Renee instead.

Mom's struggles were always mine to bear.

I said nothing more. I steadied my hand and signed my name and the date in the required column.

Mom whisked the agreement away and let out a sigh of relief. She took a few receipts out of her pocket and placed them on the bedside stand. "Rhea, I've paid the hospital bill. But I'll deduct the money from your monthly allowance. Consider it a lesson. Remember, money doesn't grow on trees."

My monthly allowance was 600 dollars, and my hospital bill was 593 dollars.

I nodded.

After the IV drip finished, I slowly sat up and carefully got out of bed.

There was a wheelchair by the wall. I was about to ask Mom to help me into it, but she had already walked to the doorway and was recording a voice message on her phone.

"Renee, what do you feel like having for dinner? Steak? Pasta? Salad? Do you want to try the new barbecue restaurant downtown?"

I reached out, grabbed the pair of crutches nearby, and tucked them under my arms. Since I couldn't put any weight on my injured leg, I had to keep it slightly bent.

I slowly followed behind Mom.

By the time I reached the hospital entrance, Mom was gone. I thought she had gone to the restroom, so I waited for her. But half an hour passed, and she was still nowhere to be found.

I called her.

It was only then that she seemed to remember me. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. We brought Renee out for barbecue."

I heard Renee ask, "Why don't we ask Rhea to join us?"

Mom replied, "No need. She's not a fan of barbecue."

I clutched my phone, relieved I hadn't immediately said yes. "Yeah, I don't like it."

"Alright, go home by yourself." Mom's voice turned stern. "Wash your clothes when you get back. Don't just throw them in the washing machine. Add disinfectant to prevent cross-contamination.

"You should take a thorough shower and scrub yourself clean, too. Hospitals are so dirty. Make sure you don't bring any germs back to Renee."

I glanced down at my bandaged leg and swallowed the words I was about to say—"I can't get the wound wet."

Then I walked to the roadside and hailed a cab.