Chapter 7

When the gambler found out, he seized the opportunity to extort more money from my father. Perhaps satisfied with the amount, he finally allowed my mother to give birth to me.

When I was three, after losing big at the tables, the gambler beat my mother again until her face was swollen and bruised, blood pouring from her mouth. He stormed out, cursing and swearing he'd win it all back.

That day, my mother held me close and spoke at length, mostly about her hometown.

In her halting English, she told me:

"Xanthe, you must live well. Only by living can you have a chance to escape."

"If possible, please go back and see Mommy's hometown for me. I miss it so much."

In my childish innocence, I asked:

"Mommy, won't you go with Xanthe?"

But I never got an answer from her.

She died from a ruptured spleen.

I buried my mother's ashes in the local cemetery, whispering softly:

"Mommy, we're home."

A few days later, I found a job at the local orphanage.