Her Dreadful Guilt

"So, Angle, how was your day? What's up with Gloria?" Mrs. Anderson questioned as she sipped from her glass of milk.

"Mmm... I must tell you that today was excruciatingly difficult, mom." As she bit through her home-baked bun that had been warmed, Alicia let out a dramatic sigh that sought to emphasize her weariness. The idea of overtly lying to her mother caused her pulse to beat rapidly. She hoped her mother would cease to inquire.

"I haven't seen her in days. What if I accompany you to your café tomorrow, spend some time with the sweet girls, and then drop by the small grocery store before coming back home? Wouldn't that be fantastic, my love?"

"Uh-oh," she said, nodding her head, but she was afraid to look her mother in the eyes. "What! No!" she cried, lifting her head at once, her eyes widening for a brief while before returning to normalize them, "I mean..."

Mrs. Anderson put her palm on her chest and flashed a shocked expression.

"Alicia? Why are you acting so strangely today? I've been watching you since the moment you returned home," A frown line appeared on her mother's forehead as she questioned.

"Uff... What I meant to say was mom," she groaned again, "plz... do come to the café another day but not this week." She pushed her plate aside and begged, her face looking worn out.

"Why not?"

"Not now, mom. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Alicia grabbed the dishes on the table and gave an apologetic smile before she walked into the kitchen.

A low, relieving sigh left Alicia's lips as soon as she was out of her mom's sight.

"Hope she would not show up tomorrow unknown to me, even after my pleadings," she muttered under her breath and started to wash out the dishes.

As she emerged from the kitchen, she noticed her mother still seated where she had been before she entered the kitchen in a state of profound confusion, tracing her finger over the rim of the milk glass, which was still yet to to be emptied.

Alicia tiptoed over to her mother, who was lost in reverie and gave her a tender kiss on the right cheek.

"Mom, why don't you go back to bed? The night is getting chilly. Don't you think getting a good night's sleep seems relaxing?" She leaned forward and placed her chin on her mother's shoulder from behind.

"Mnm... Yeah, you're right," her mother murmured in agreement and got to her feet while carrying the milk glass in her hand to the kitchen before she hastily finished the remainder of it.

"Ah... Ah... Put it down, mama bear, and move on," stopped Alicia and took the glass from her mother, she emphasized the words, "To. The. Bed," knowing fully well that her mother would object.

"Alright, Ms. Alicia," her mother sighed and rolled her eyes, agreeing jokingly with a wide grin tugging at her lips, and she walked out of the hall toward the bedroom.

____

The hallways are the one place where regular underfunding is most obvious. Most of the time, they are crammed with patients in carts. Some appeared to be cared for by tense families, while others were left alone. They are all on their backs, their gaze fixed on the bare fluorescent tubes that flicker as if they were on their final shanks. The pale blue walls were sharply slicing the metal-framed trollies in the brief spaces between these poor souls who cannot afford the excessive private fees, the drywall poking through like white scars. The cheap prints on the walls were so dull and lifeless that they appeared sun-bleached in this windowless strip. The nurses could hear the patients' groans and wails, but they were being amplified by the cramped area.

You could tell that the purified water dispenser was made of less plastic than the receptionist. Nothing sparkled or smelled clean, and there was no room or feeling of openness. Instead, entry is down a long hallway that is so small that if a wheelchair or a trolley were to approach from another direction, one would need to duck into a side room to make a place for it.

Gloria sat on a long, rickety brown chair that occasionally creaked with the slightest movement, her face bland and impossible to interpret as she peered into nothing in particular. Diego's mother was seated next to her, mumbling prayers for her son's recovery while having tears roll down her wrinkled cheeks.

Even though the walls largely reveal the grey undercoat or possibly the concrete beneath that, she could tell they had once been painted by the cream flakes that are still present. The flooring was crooked. It might be equipped with both wheels and feet. These resembled antique gravestones in terms of color.

The place was no new to her. It was nothing but a place that was like the back of her hand. A place where she once kept running back and forth from her house. A place that her whole family would never forget even if an earthquake fell. She could bet the air smelled stagnant like she had just gone into some pit.

She felt goosebumps appear on her skin as she heard the muddled sounds coming from in front of her. Some of the voices were angry, while others were comforting. She bit her lower lip. There was hardly enough of it to qualify as enjoyable. She inhaled deeply before getting out of the chair, which creaked louder than she had anticipated. Gloria stood motionless for a few moments before she clenched her teeth, apologized to those who were staring at her, and then made a hasty exit to the restroom, notifying Mrs. Marino of her absence.

Mrs. Marino didn't seem to be comprehending her words, but she did give a subtle nod before shifting her gaze back to the glass partition which was adjacent to them but a few feet away. Gloria took it as her cue to proceed past the corridor but not to the restroom. Her Converse sneakers were lightly padding on the floor. She was so much in desperate need of some fresh air that she wasn't even aware of her need until her feet walked on its accordance as if they had their way of thinking and brought her right in front of the little open way. She came facing a tiny grassy area. Not much of an eye-catching sight. But even so, she was appreciative of its presence.

A short stairway leading to the tiny garden or whatever was in front of her caught her gaze as she casually scanned her surroundings. She trudged cautiously in its way and was about to go into the garden when she quickly pulled back before looking around to see if anyone was nearby. She removed her worn-out brown shoe and dropped it carefully at the bottom of the very last staircase, ensuring that no one would ever notice her presence or whatever it is that she intended to do in the empty space.

It took her a moment to pad her feet through the soggy grass. She felt her soles tingle as soon as she put her feet on the ground as a result of the grass's amusing yet pleasant effect on her body. She earlier felt guilt-stricken, but now she was laughing in a happy but childlike bubble. She tightened her grip on the grass, curled her toes, and then released them. Even in gay, she pulled some out. When she slowly and sensually walked through the moist grassy ground while looking up at the starry night, her bare feet squelched on the surface. She let out a long sigh. She couldn't remember how long she had been there in the open. She felt at ease for the initial few seconds. Yet, as time went on, the shame that had for a minute been hidden beneath the pit came to light, returning everything to where it belonged.

What if none of that had occurred? What if she hadn't dashed to the café? If it were the case, none would have been hurt and things would have stopped with only her, right? She ought to be hurt, right? But why was it that she had not even sustained a minor injury?

"Oh, dear Lord!" She murmured and made a tight fist with her hand, "I'm aware that it is improper of me to speculate on what might have happened in place of what did happen." She choked back the tears that threatened to fall and took a few deep breaths before saying, "I know what happened was all under your gaze, and you know the best. But I just can't help it, for all I am left with is guilt." Her lips trembled before she continued, "I feel guilty knowing my friends are in a more dire situation than I am," before stumbling miserably to her knees, she spoke, trembling with each word she uttered.

"I don't think you should be there," a sudden voice startled her from behind.