Chapter 2

A stranger in a more modern land, modern people and culture. Patricia struggles to adapt to her new life in New York. In Raleigh, North Carolina, where she grew up, women are respected. But in New York, women are like food or clothes you buy in a shopping mall. So many choices, so many flavors. And one of those flavors is Tasha. The woman who helped her when she has nowhere to go.

It's only been a few days since she gave birth and arrived in New York. She was still regaining her strength and calculating her surroundings, in fact, Patricia can't even move comfortably. Tasha gave her all the space she needed. Never even asked her about what happened in Raleigh and respected her silence. Even when she doesn't come out of her room, she still stayed patient.

"Good morning!" Patricia's newfound friend greeted her. She just got out of her room after locking herself inside for a whole day. She looks better now than the first days she met Tasha. "Hungry?" She looked at the food at the table. Bacon, egg, fried rice, and orange juice. "How was your sleep?" Tasha asked.

"Better-uhm, I want to thank you for all your help." Patricia timidly said. "I promise, I'll look for a job as soon as possible so I can find a place to stay."

"Why? Is there a problem with my house?" Tasha answered, amused. "You can work when you're well-rested. No one will ask you to move out. You can stay here permanently." Tasha smiled sincerely. "I took you in because I wanted to help you. If you wanna leave, then do it when you can give your son a better life, okay."

"Okay." It's as if a heavyweight on Patricia's chest was lifted.

"How's your baby, by the way?" Tasha remembered to ask.

"He's fine." The disinterest in Patricia's voice didn't escape Tasha's sharp ear. Her eyes squinted.

"Anyways, you probably need to know what kind of work I do," Tasha stated before drinking her orange juice. "I'm a stripper, and I provide satisfaction to a lot of men. So you would probably see different men wake up in my bed every day. Don't be scared, and they're all nice." The way Tasha told Patricia about her work, it's like a regular business discussion.

Patricia didn't say a word. She just stared at the woman who saved her, like she didn't believe a word she said. Like she was waiting for a beautiful woman to say that she was kidding. Tasha noticed her reaction and laughed out loud. She continued laughing until she took her plate and brought it to the sink. She was shaking her head with the response she received from Patricia.

"What?" Tasha said while still laughing. "You don't believe me?"

"You're serious. That's your job?" Patricia still couldn't believe Tasha. "How did you afford this kind of house?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Tasha's used to the kind reaction she sees in Patricia. So, she no longer gets offended by it. Instead, she finds it amusing. "I sleep with different men every night. Of course, they pay me after, silly."

Tasha left an hour after finishing her breakfast. Patricia was in the house with her baby and had nothing else to do. At first, she enjoyed watching tv. She must have watched four movies before her eyes got tired. Then she found some books on a shelf in the living room. She found out that her female savior has a great collection of novels and enjoyed reading all of them. But in the middle of reading, her son cried. At first, Patricia tried to ignore the baby, thinking he would stop. But the cries lasted for minutes, and Patricia started to get irritated.

"What the hell is your problem!" She yelled at the crying baby as soon as she entered the room. The baby continued to cry.

"Stop crying!" Patricia yelled even louder, thinking that her son would stop because of it. But what does a days-old baby know? They don't even understand sound. So the baby continued to cry.

"I said stop crying!" Patricia's eyes caught the baby's diaper and touched it. She realized that the reason why the baby was crying is because of his wet diaper.

She realized that she doesn't have a choice but to change her son's diaper. She was cursing and swearing the entire time. Patricia almost dropped her baby intentionally. When she looked at her son's face, all she felt was hatred.

"You looked just like your father," She said with her voice full of anger.

"I'm sure you will grow up just like him!" Patricia stabbed his son's forehead with her pointer finger.

"You will be selfish, liar, worthless!" With every word, Patricia stabbed his forehead with her finger, repeatedly. She wanted to make her son feel the pain she's feeling.

"You're the reason why my life ended up like this." She blamed the beautiful little boy as if he would understand her.

"He told me he loved me," Patricia began to cry. "That he would never leave me!" She grabbed her son's tiny face with her hands and squeezed until her son started crying again.

"Shut up! Shut. Up!" It's like Patricia's starting to lose her mind. She was screaming at his face while continuing to squeeze. "You shouldn't be alive! You should have died! If not because of you, I would still be my dad's daughter!"

With trembling hands, Patricia grabbed the scissor near her baby's clothes. "Yes, you weren't supposed to live."  She whispers to herself.

Slowly, Patricia turned around to face her son lying in bed, crying. A tiny, innocent angel who didn't even have the chance to choose who would be his parents. Oblivious to the world, especially to what her mother's planning to do.

"You should die." Patricia took a step forward and looked at her son. She nodded as if agreeing to herself. "That's right, and you will die." When Patricia reached the bed, she raised her hand, holding the scissor without hesitation.

But then, she started crying when she remembered her mom. The radiant, beautiful, and vibrant woman who would brush her hair before she goes to sleep. The woman who would cook chocolate-flavored pancakes for breakfast. She remembered the mother who would tell her, "Patricia, a time will come when you will be a mother. So I need you to remember this always. Your child is your child. No matter how he or she was made. Never, never blame your children for your misfortunes. Love your children as I have loved you."

Patricia took a step back and put the scissor down forcefully. Her heart was shattering into tiny pieces, and she couldn't breathe because of the pain. She suddenly felt weak as she cried her heart out. "Mom-Mom, take me, please." She called out for her mom.

"I can—I can't do this anymore. Please, Mom, you have to take me." Patricia clutched her chest and shouted due to complete and unbridled pain. "I was so stupid! I was so stupid! I shouldn't have believed his promises. I should have let him go a long time ago! Mom, please!"

Patricia continued to cry for hours and fell asleep while her face was still wet. She felt so exhausted about her life and everything that happened since she gave birth. She woke up in a dream, again. In the dark tunnel, she was scared, walking alone in the darkness. But she kept walking. Until she heard a female voice calling her name, it was coming from ahead of her. She continues to walk. The wind was cold, and her feet were wet. She was walking barefoot. Then, a voice of a man replaced the voice of the woman. It was authoritative yet, caring. She felt like she knew that man cares for her.

After a few more minutes, she saw the light at the end of the tunnel. She ran towards it, but the distance between her and the tunnel seems to stretch further and further as she runs forward. The voices of the man and woman kept her going. They were calling her name and urging her to keep running. They were not saying anything other than calling her name, but the sound of their voice was enough to give Patricia the strength to keep running forward.

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"Patricia, hey! Wake up!" When Patricia opened her eyes, she was back inside her room. Tasha was standing in front of her, obviously worried. "You're having a nightmare," Tasha said, more of a statement than a question.

When she finally regained focus, she noticed that she was lying in bed next to her sleeping son. The pillow was wet with tears from earlier. Her dream was so vivid that she can still remember everything. She was close to the end of the tunnel when Tasha woke her up. She was about to see the owner of those voices who gave her strength to keep going. She didn't notice that Tasha was staring at her, waiting for her response.

"Are you okay?" Tasha asked. "Your eyes are swollen, and you look pale. Did you cry?"

"Do you believe that dreams have meaning?" She asked out of nowhere. "That your dreams might be clues about something?"

"I don't follow," Tasha said, confused.

"When I was at the hospital before I woke up, I had this dream. I was in a dark tunnel, running and screaming. I tried to find my dad or a way out, but I couldn't." Patricia was telling Tasha about her dream, but she looks like she was talking more to herself. "Now, I dreamed of the same dark tunnel, the same feeling of abandonment. But this time, there's a voice of a man and a woman calling my name. I don't recognize their voices, but I felt safe when I heard them."

"Pat, you've been through so much. It's just the stress." Tasha tucked Patricia's hair behind her ear. "You're in New York now, and you're not in Raleigh anymore. It's time to put all those bad memories behind you."

"How?" Patricia's eyes were lost and drowning. Tasha could feel her pain. She didn't need to ask her how she feels because Patricia is like an open book. Her eyes and her actions are big telltales of what's going on inside her. Tasha could feel her breaking. She was bottling up her feelings, but it was never a good thing. Things tend to explode when overloaded.

"You can start by talking about what happened?" Tasha smiled at her, trying to show her that she cares.

Patricia stared at Tasha for a short while before all those emotions she was trying to hide started breaking the wall she built. Tasha let her cry until she finally stopped. After few deep breaths, Patricia finally opened up to her. In between sobs, Patricia told her how she was fooled by a man she loved so much and how she was left behind by the only family she thought she had.

"When you found me, I don't even have the slightest idea on what to do or where to go," Patricia admitted. "My mind wasn't functioning. I couldn't even move. I thought of leaving my son to his father's family, but i—I just can't. He didn't even want him."

"Patricia, listen to me. You don't need a man to help you and your son." Tasha suggested. "You only need yourself and your willingness to survive. Women are not supposed to be prey on men's cruel, selfish world. We are so much more than that. Look at me, I'm not proud of my work, but I'm proud of myself." Tasha wiped a tear in her eyes. "I'm proud of myself because I can live without committing myself to any man. They worship me; hell, they'll even leave their family for me. I'm not saying you have to be like me. What I'm saying is, you are so much more than just a woman. Live, survive for you and your son. Be strong for him. He's still a baby, and he can't survive on his own."

Patricia listened to every word that Tasha said. She realized she's right. She doesn't need Denver or any man in her life. She can make it all by herself.