A SYMPHONY OF CHANCE AND CHOICE

The rays of sunlight filtered into my bedroom through the window. They met me already awake; I had been awake for a while. Sleep was the luxury of the rich, and I was far from rich. I got up, stretched, and made my bed—or at least I tried to until the whirlwind that is Eugene cannonballed onto my comforter. I rolled my eyes. My baby brother is ten and had just entered his "do everything to drive your sister mad" phase. I hated it.

"Good morning, sis. What's for breakfast?" the little devil called out. His brown eyes—the one feature everyone in this house had in common—sparkled. I almost smiled but composed my face quickly before that could happen.

"If you don't get your smelly feet off my pillow, you won't be needing breakfast," I snapped. He smiled like he knew he could call my bluff and, after rubbing his feet in for extra measure, stood up and left, muttering under his breath about how he was going to tell Mum I was trying to starve him to death. As if anyone would believe that. I finished dressing my bed and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the sweet smell of syrupy pancakes, sizzling bacon, and coffee. Eugene had already set the table, and I set the plates of food down. I sighed as I noticed that I had subconsciously put less food on one plate—because of Mum's illness, she doesn't eat much. I shook off the dark cloud of sadness that was threatening my mood and shouted in a falsetto voice, "Breakfast is ready!" Almost immediately, I could hear my brother's footsteps rushing down from where he was doing his chores upstairs.

"Finally!" he rolled his eyes at me. I stuck out my tongue and flicked his forehead, but before he could retaliate, I heard Mum's quiet footsteps and turned towards the sound. She walked into the room, and I had to stop myself from gasping—she looked so small. The cancer had really done a number on her. I had a hard time reconciling the fierce woman who single-handedly raised my brother and me with this pale, fragile woman in front of me. Her favorite cyan bathrobe was wrapped tightly about her like she was freezing, and her eyes were sad.

"Good morning, Mum," Eugene greeted, breaking me out of my trance. She smiled at him and sat down. I walked to her and kissed her forehead, simultaneously pulling her crooked wig straight. She smiled at me—that's all she seems to do these days—smile. I set her mug down, and she finally spoke. “Thanks, hunny." Her voice was raspy. She looked at Eugene wolfing down his pancakes and smiled a genuine smile. “How's school, baby?" she asked him while rubbing his hair.

"Mmffm," he answered with his mouth full, and she laughed. Eug and I looked at each other, and then we were laughing too. For a moment, everything was good. Then Mum started coughing, and the moment was gone. The cough raked through her body, leaving her shaken. I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the box on the table and handed them to her silently. She cleaned the blood off her hand and went to the bathroom to rinse her mouth. The school bus honked for my brother, and he folded his last pancake into his mouth. I made a disgusted face at him. He grabbed his bag and ran out as I cleared the table, hurrying when I looked at the clock and saw that I was getting late for work. I took Mum's still full plate to the kitchen. I put it on a tray with her coffee and took it to her room where I knew she was lying down. I placed it on her nightstand, taking her cold hand into mine and giving it a little rub.

"Stop worrying so much, hunny," she rasped.

"I can't help it, Mum," I whispered back. "I need to go now. I'm getting late. Will you be alright till Alicia gets here?" She nodded weakly, and I sighed. I didn't want to leave her, but I had no choice. I placed a kiss on her forehead, smiling at her before leaving the room. I grabbed my purse from my room, locking the main door. Alicia, my mum's caretaker, had a key. Then I was off. Carl's Cafe, where I work, is a ten-minute walk from our apartment. I looked down at my watch and saw that I would make it in time or at least not be more than two minutes late. I hastened my steps, my feet moving to the tempo of the song I was listening to, and soon I was in the cafe. Rachel, my co-worker, looked at me with a look that said, "Girl, you're late." I looked at her and smiled sheepishly in apology. She threw me my apron. I caught it mid-air and went to wash my hands and put on my hairnet in the back. I came back out and joined Rachel in attending to customers. Several moments later, the bell on the door rang. I looked up from the counter I was wiping, and I let out a chuckle as I saw who it was. I looked over at Rachel, and the chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. She glared at me, but the glare turned into a smile as the customer approached her.

"Hello, Josh. Welcome to Carl's Cafe. What can I get you?" she chimed sweetly.

"Hey, I'd like a cup of coffee, two sugars, no cream and ..." His voice trailed off as he glanced at her and seemed lost in her eyes.

"And a ...?" Rachel prompted, and he went on to ask for a muffin, his face red. I chuckled, and Rachel glared at me again. But I was sure that she would be visibly blushing too if not for her cocoa skin. She and Joshua had been flirting with each other for about three months now. They're totally into each other, but my strong-headed best friend would rather die than admit it, and I think Joshua is too bashful to make the first move—sad.

After the morning coffee rush, things slowed down. Rach and I had been watching people. I could tell from the way she kept stealing glances at me that she wanted to talk about something more serious than why so many girls were wearing mini skirts in this weather—it's mid-October! At this point, invulnerability to the freezing wind could be considered their superpower.

"Amelia, how is your mum?" I took a deep breath and avoided her eyes. My throat already felt scratchy. If I looked at her, I'd definitely cry. I shook my head, and she pulled me into a tight hug.

“She doesn't seem to be getting better, Rach. She's so pale, she's always freezing, and the worst part is that the chemo is taking every single penny we have. I'm working two jobs, but it doesn't seem like it makes a difference. I'm so tired, Rach, so very tired." At this point, I had given up on holding the tears in. Thank goodness nobody was in the cafe, but Rachel still dragged my heaving body into the employee's room. She held me tight, and I cried until I was spent. After I had washed my face, I felt guilty. My mum is the one going through the pains and rigors of stage four lung cancer, and here I am crying like a doof. Rachel gave me an unopened bottle of water, and I smiled in appreciation.

"It's going to be alright, Amy, it's going to be just fine..." she trailed off, and I couldn't help but smile. Rachel has never been the touchy-feely type, but as she crushed me in another bear hug, I believed her. It's going to be alright.

"Rach! This dress is so tight! It'll surely disintegrate if I sneeze!"

"Don't sneeze then," she teases.

We are in my room, and Rachel is in my robe, spread eagle on my bed. She came to my house after I came back from working my second job as a cleaner at a caregiving home. It goes without saying that I am exhausted, but as soon as Rachel enters the house, she announces rather loudly that she's not going to let me sulk at home, that a girl's night out is in order. My protests were all in vain as she somehow got Eugene and Mum to take her side, and magically my opinion didn't matter. So here I am suffocating in a tiny black dress I used to wear in high school. I reach for the blue maxi dress that is a safer option, but Rach bats my hand away.

"Amy, stop being dramatic. Just wear the cute black dress. You haven't even done your makeup, and we are late!"

I look at the time; it's 7:26. Our reservation is for 8. I don't know what restaur