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Content warning: verbal abuse, violence
***
The hospital is a peculiar place; its white walls and sterile condition gives the impression of a safe haven, yet the hectic footsteps of nurses and the coughing of ill patients suggest otherwise. A place with a contradicting nature, where souls are lost yet found; where the cycle of life ends for one, and starts for another.
***
“First floor.”
The elevator doors slowly opened, and the herd of visitors exited at a polite pace – as if there was no rush for where they were going. Their leisure aura seemed at odds with those of the patients waiting at the ground floor, anticipating their appointment amongst violent coughs and wailing babies. With the visitor’s pass hanging around her neck and a bag of gifts clutched in her hand, Mallory felt as if she was a betrayer of sorts; basking in the luxury of serenity above while they continued to suffer below.
However, as the crowd dispersed and the view of endless hallways came into sight, the illusion of serenity disappeared, struck with the reality that, within the rooms lining the walls, there were people in unescapable pain. And there was no hurry to get to them because they had nowhere else to go.
Mallory found it hard to swallow as she made her way through the halls, glancing nervously at each room number and cross-checking it with the paper in her hand that read Room 603. In a few seconds, she found herself standing in front of a wooden door. She could hear faint sobbing on the other side, which slowly faded into silence.
‘What’s happening?’
Forcing her fear down, she brought herself to knock.
“One moment,” a voice called. A few seconds later, the door slid open and she was greeted with the sight of her aunt lying on a hospital bed, a bundle of cloth cradled in her arms.
The first thing she felt was panic.
Then, confusion.
“Mallory!” her aunt shouted enthusiastically in a whisper. Her hair was tied in a dishevelled bun and there were prominent dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep; she appeared paler and thinner than Mallory last remembered. However, what caught her off-guard the most was her smile; contrasting her weak appearance, her aunt was grinning from ear-to-ear, the way she did whenever she had something good to show her, her eyes sparkling under the room light.
“Come in,” she called, still whispering.
Slowly stepping in, Mallory finally noticed the nurse who opened the door. “I’ll leave the two of you be,” she said quietly before bowing and exiting the room, sliding the door shut with a soft click. Her tone and overly-careful behaviour told Mallory that something was amidst.
‘Why are you all being so quiet? What’s wrong?’
Panic rose again in her mind as she quickly tiptoed over to her aunt’s bedside, careful to make as little noise as possible. “What’s going on?” Mallory whispered to her, eyes scanning around the room for anything abnormal. “Are you in danger?”
Despite her tone being devoid of humour, her aunt couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh before instantly covering her mouth, seeming to remember that they had to be quiet. Even so, Mallory could see her shoulders shake from holding it in.
“Hey, I’m being serious,” Mallory hissed, still confused about the situation.
Without saying a word, her aunt lifted the bundle of cloth she was holding higher for Mallory to get a clearer view of it, and the sight she saw made her recoil back. “What the heck is that?”
Peeking out of an opening amidst the cloth was the sight of a tiny face, with its features scrunched together, eyes closed. It took Mallory a few seconds to realise that she was looking at a baby.
“That,” her aunt started, managing to stifle her laughter. “Is my daughter.”
“… Seriously?”
“What do you mean, ‘seriously’?”
“Why does she look like that?”
Her aunt must have found her incredulous expression funny as she seemed to be on the verge of toppling over from holding back her laughter. “Oh my gawd, you’re killing me right now, Mal. Come, help me hold her for a sec.”
Reluctantly, Mallory approached her again. Following her aunt’s instruction, she found herself carrying the tiny creature in her arms gently. She could barely feel her weight; if she closed her eyes, she could convince herself that all she was holding was cloth. It made her realise just how fragile newborns were.
“Are you sure I should be holding her?” Mallory questioned, suddenly fearing that she would break her if she applied any form of pressure. “I feel like I’m not qualified to be doing this right now.”
“And you think I’m qualified?” Her aunt asked back, leaning over to grab a bottle of water. “It was my first time holding her yesterday.”
She was about to respond until she felt the baby shift a bit in her arms. Startled, Mallory glanced down, expecting for sudden wailing, only to be met with the sight of her snuggling deeper into her embrace, a small yawn escaping her lips.
The sight was so tender, it made her heart melt.
“She seems to like you.”
Mallory looked at her aunt to find her smiling at her – not her usual cheeky grin, but something more… soft.
Glancing back down, Mallory asked, “What’s her name?”
“Isadora.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“She’s a pretty girl.”
“Hmm, just like you.”
Her aunt giggled at that.
Mallory continued to cradle Isadora in her arms. There was something mesmerising about looking at a child whose life had yet to start, imagining all the possibilities that they could experience, who they could become. If the central divisions of time were given physical form, then Mallory would be holding the future.
“You know,” her aunt started, bringing Mallory back to the present. “I never thought I would ever have a child.”
That sentence struck a chord in Mallory.
Until now, her aunt had always been a carefree, mischievous figure in her life who she could go to remind herself that the world wasn’t as bad as she thought. But the way her aunt said those words, Mallory wondered if she was about to find out something about her that she never knew before.
Instinctively, she hugged Isadora closer to herself.
“I had always been ambitious,” her aunt continued. “So much so that I could never imagine myself settling down and having a family. I mean, I would have to sacrifice so much of myself, wouldn’t I?”
Mallory didn’t know how to respond – all the questions she had were ones she didn’t want the answer to. But she forced herself to ask, “Are you regretting it?”
She was surprised to hear her aunt chuckle. Looking up, her eyes met her aunt’s and the adoration she saw in them made her feelings of worry disappear.
“That’s the thing – I don’t regret it one bit.”
Her aunt’s gaze drifted to Isadora, softening at the sight of her own child. “Now that she’s here, I can’t believe that I have been living without her all this time.”
Gently, Mallory returned Isadora into her aunt’s arms. She watched as her aunt hugged her closely to her chest, lightly caressing her cheek.
“I’m going to give her the whole world.”
Her declaration felt permanent; not a wish, but a promise. In that moment, Mallory saw the woman her aunt was and always had been.
“I don’t think you’re any less ambitious,” Mallory said softly. “If anything, I think having her just made you more than you were before.”
From the way her aunt’s expression shifted, Mallory could tell that her words meant a lot to her.
“Thank you, dear,” her aunt said, using a nickname she rarely used unless she was feeling vulnerable. “Truly.”
Looking at the scene before her – the picture of a mother cradling the greatest treasure of her life in her arms – she wondered if Isadora would ever know just how much of a gift she was to her mother.
She wondered if there was any other experience that could bring the same happiness.
‘It doesn’t seem likely.’
After all, the emotions reserved for such miracles in life are too exceptional to be found elsewhere.
***
Home is where our self forms – where we find out who we are and what we are.
***
The visit that morning and its serenity didn’t wear off until Mallory arrived home and reality settled back into permanency.
“What took you so long?”
Her mother’s aggressive question came at her the moment she stepped foot into the household. Glancing up at her while locking the front door, Mallory noted her mother’s bloodshot eyes and dishevelled hair – it seemed as though she hadn’t had a good sleep.
A sinking feeling swelled up in her chest.
“There was a long line at the hospital,” Mallory responded – a small white lie. She would rather her mother think she spent time waiting rather than talking with her sister. She had a jealous streak sometimes.
“And you still chose to go visit today?” Her mother sneered.
That’s when Mallory realised she gave the wrong answer.
“You didn’t think to see first if the hospital would be busy today?” Her mother pushed forward – the first rhetorical question.
Mallory had to tread carefully. “I-I didn’t know, okay? Really.”
“What do you know, then?” The second rhetorical question. “There are so many other days you could have gone, but you chose the busiest day out of all of them. And you think you’re so freaking smart all the time.”
She didn’t respond.
“Did you know what I had to do this morning?” The third rhetorical question; her mother was knocking her fist on the entryway table by now. “I had to do your damn laundry. Do you know how thick your clothes are? How long it takes for them to dry? And you didn’t even bother to stay and help me.”
The last time she checked, Mallory had finished doing last week’s laundry two days ago – meaning the only laundry there for her mother to clean was from yesterday and the day before. Their pattern had always been to do laundry at the end of the week; there was no urgency for her to have done it. So why did she do it then?
‘Because she wanted a reason to lash out, that’s why.’
“What? You would rather visit your aunt than help your own mother at home?” The fourth – and last – rhetorical question; the final ammo filled in her gun.
‘There it is. That’s the reason we’re here right now.’
Mallory could no longer play the quiet game.
“No…” she responded softly.
“What did you say?”
“I wasn’t trying to avoid helping you. I just planned to go today so I went.”
“Oh, so you can’t adapt, is that it? You had to go today. If there was a thunderstorm raging outside, you would still go, huh?”
“I didn’t know you were going to do the laundry today.”
“And you didn’t bother to ask? Did you know that I had a bad sleep last night? I have no energy, I’m weak. Yet, I have to wake up and do all these chores because you don’t do them!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” her mother’s behaviour was becoming erratic, her hand aggressively banging the entryway table with each syllable. “You’re always so freaking sorry, yet you do nothing about it.
God, why did I even have you?”
That sentence was a knife stabbed into her chest.
“I sacrificed so much for you and I don’t even get anything back for it,” her mother was pacing the hallway now, stomping her feet on the ground and flailing her hands around in exaggeration. “I could have had such a happy life – I could have done so much more – if I didn’t have to deal with you all the time. Do you know that?”
“…”
“Even your father left because he didn’t want to deal with you. And I was such a kind soul, taking you in, deciding to care for you, but for what?” She abruptly turned and punched the wall. “Nothing!”
Throughout her outburst, Mallory didn’t flinch.
This was a regular occurrence in her life; some days, her mother was sane and cordial. Other times, she would experience aggressive episodes – such as now – when she thought too much of the past and got riled up. Mallory was already used to hearing her mother’s degrading insults during those times.
But after witnessing the love and tenderness at the hospital that day – between a mother and her newborn daughter – all the insults her mother threw at her found their spot in her mind.
Because she had a revelation.
Isadora was a gift.
Mallory was a curse.
And nothing she did would ever change that.
‘I guess we can’t all be gifts…’
She struggled to hold back her tears.
“And I was so tired today that I couldn’t go buy dinner.” Her mother was beginning to wind down, getting to her last attack. “So? Are you going to buy it? Or are you going to sit down and do nothing while I do everything again?”
“… I’ll go buy it now.”
With her shoes and bag still on, Mallory turned around and unlocked the door.
Written by: Liaw Zi Yi
Edited by: Zhen Li
