Chapter 4:The Weight of the Day
Joyce's words felt like a punch to the gut long after Lisa left the office building. 'Country bumpkin...smelly...ugly thing.' The insults replayed in her mind, each one a sharp jab at her insecurities. Her breath hitched in her throat, and a wave of nausea rolled over her. She could almost taste the bitterness of the words.
Memories flickered of her worn-out clothes, the hand-me-down shoes, the constant struggle to stay afloat. Was Joyce right? Was she not good enough? A tear slipped down her cheek. As she remembered their once happy family.
The silly arguments, the shared laughter, her mother's playful jealousy, and the way her father could always make everything better in an instant. A pang of longing shot through her heart. She missed the days when her biggest worry was finishing her homework, not facing the harsh realities of the world.
A knot tightened in her stomach, a feeling of emptiness that went beyond hunger. She took the last old bun from her pocket, the buns she had on her since in the morning, the sticky sugar clinging to her fingers. Every bite was hard to swallow; the sweetness felt tasteless in her mouth.
At the park, the park is a very big place where people come to, with their loved ones and family. She found a quiet bench under a big oak tree where they always visit for holidays and sat down, it reminded her how their family was before. The leaves rustled in the breeze, creating a soothing sound that did little to ease her troubled thoughts. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the noise of the city and focus on the memory of her family's laughter. A sob slipped out, then another, until she was struggling to breathe, the tiredness and shame pressing down on her like something heavy she couldn't lift. She went back to where she parked a scooter so she could start going back home.
When she got home, she summoned a smile. As she walked through the door, trying to sound cheerful as she greeted her family. But it felt fake, her laugh empty and weak. She forced a bright, "Hi everyone!" but the words felt hollow, even to her own ears. She caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror. Her eyes were red, her face pale. Quickly, she looked away, not wanting anyone to see how she really felt inside. She smoothed down her hair and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before facing her family.
She went straight to the kitchen to heat up the food she brought from work and set up the table to have dinner. The aroma of the stew usually filled her with comfort, but tonight, it just made her stomach churn. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she quickly opened a window to get some fresh air.
"That evening, Anna watched Lisa as she ate dinner, her movements slow and deliberate. She noticed the way Lisa rubbed her temples, the faint tremor in her hands. 'Lisa, are you're alright?' she asked, her voice laced with concern. Lisa forced a smile. 'Just tired, Mom. It was a long day.' But Anna saw the flicker of pain in her daughter's eyes, and her heart ached. She knew Lisa was hiding something, and she was determined to find out what it was."
"Lisa, are you sure you're okay?" Anna asked.
She hesitated and said "I'm fine mom." She avoided her mother's gaze, focusing on pushing the food around her plate.
She didn't believe that, she knew Lisa wasn't okay, so after the dinner she reached out to Emma Lisa's sister,
"Emma, clean up the table and you and your brothers do the dishes, your sister seems to have a backache," she said not wanting them to know how upset Lisa was.
Confused, surprised, and curious Emma responded "Okay, Mom…." She sensed that something was off, and she was wondering what was happening, what her mother was hiding, and what she wanted to discuss with Lisa. Emma watched Lisa carefully as she left the table, noticing the slump in her shoulders and the way she seemed to be avoiding eye contact. A knot of worry tightened in Emma's stomach. She and Lisa were close, and she hated seeing her sister upset.
The next morning, Lisa's whole body ached as she pulled herself out of bed. The skin beneath her eyes was bruised with shadows, and her shoulders hurt with a steady, dull pain. She moved slowly, tired and heavy, every little thing feeling harder than it should. Even the simple act of brushing her teeth felt like a monumental effort. She caught her reflection in the mirror and winced. She looked older than her years, worn down by the constant grind.
At the diner, everything blurred together the clatter of dishes, the shouts of orders, the endless hiss of the grill. She scrubbed the counters, her hands sore and stinging, while the harsh words from yesterday replayed in her head with every wipe of the sponge. The smell of grease and coffee, usually comforting, now made her stomach churn. She felt a wave of nausea and had to take a deep breath to keep from gagging.
Today is a really busy day at the restaurant and she has to wash a lot of dishes and she the only one there to do it she runs there and here like a machine she works a lot that she don't even remember of eating anything, She felt lightheaded and dizzy, but she pushed through the exhaustion, knowing that her family depended on her.
By 1:30 PM, Lisa was back on her scooter, moving through the traffic with the food orders tied carefully to her back. She took every extra delivery she could, hoping to earn just a little more. But the job was full of small, constant hurts, the staring eyes, the rude comments, the quiet insults about how she looked or the way she spoke. One man, heavyset and wearing a dirty bathrobe, sneered at her. The heat from the exhaust fumes made her head spin, and she gripped the handlebars tightly to keep from losing her balance.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in. You call this service? I could've walked here faster myself."
Lisa clamped down on the impulse to lash out, her face burning with shame and anger. She needed the money. She couldn't risk losing her job by speaking up. She bit her lip and forced a polite smile. "I'm so sorry for the delay, sir. Here's your order." She handed him the bag, her hands trembling slightly.
By 8:30 PM, Lisa was getting ready in the tiny bathroom of The Velvet Lounge, a fancy bar where rich people came to drink and talk business. She changed out of her diner uniform and slipped into a tight black dress with painful heels.
Then she covered her tired face with makeup, trying to hide how drained she really felt. The harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom made her skin look sallow, and she cringed at the dark circles under her eyes. She applied an extra layer of concealer, hoping to mask her exhaustion.
This was the hardest part of her day dealing with proud, wealthy customers, pretending not to hear their rude jokes or feel their unwanted touches. She had to move fast, stay polite, and stay unseen just another quiet worker making their night easier. As she smoothed down her dress, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.
A wave of self-doubt washed over her. Was this all she was destined for?
A life of endless work and quiet desperation?
To Be Continued