1- Big Bills

Savannah

Do you ever feel like there's someone responsible for your destiny, and they're messing with you all the way? Because I do. I think the same.

I've always been known to be a hustler, and I take pride in it. But occasionally, I feel like the hustle isn't meant for me.

I have a dream, just like every young woman, and I want to achieve those dreams—to be better and do better. But it is a struggle for me, especially with a sick mother, an absent father, and a lazy brother. I must do everything, give up my schooling and my things, and be a family woman.

Even right now, I'm in the hospital, watching as my mom is tied to a life machine. The beeping sound constantly reminds her that she can't do anything alone.

I sigh as I wrap my hands around her dainty ones, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

"Please be okay," I whisper as I rub her knuckles tenderly. "You have to be okay."

I hear footsteps entering the room, and I turn to see the doctor standing there. "You didn't leave?" He asks, watching me curiously.

"Not really; I just wanted to spend a little more time with her," I reply, and he nods. "What's the update, Doc?"

He sighs and opens the files he's holding. "There has been no further improvement in her health; it's almost static. She needs to undergo surgery very soon, or I'm afraid you'll have to prepare yourself."

Prepare myself.

I nervously clasp my hands and ask, "Can you guys do the surgery?"

"We do the dialysis, but I can recommend you take her to India for the transplant, but I must warn you, it's expensive."

Expensive.

She's been on life support for almost a month. I bet the bill is nearly $100,000 by now.

I nod. "How expensive are we talking about, doc?"

"If you have a donor for her, it'll be about $50,000, and if there's no donor, it's $100,000." My heart drops to the bottom of my shoes at that amount. The doctor must've seen my facial expressions because he sighed, "Look, Kid, I've seen you here more than anyone else, and I know you care for your mother; that is the only reason I've refused to take her off that machine. But maybe you should consider prepping yourself because the hospital bills here aren't paid either, and the hospital will not approve of her leaving if the bills aren't paid. We're talking about a total of $200,000."

I collapse into my seat and hold my head in my hands. Tears sting my eyes, and I look back at the doctor and say, "Thank you, doctor. I'll see what I can do."

He nods and says, "Okay. She's been given two weeks before the hospital acts. Be prepared before then." He taps my shoulder and walks out.

I finally let go of the sob I'd been holding in. I grab my mom's hand and begin to kiss it. "Please guide me, Momma. What should I do?" I cried out as I lay there holding her hand.

I don't know how long it's been since I woke up. I must have fallen asleep. My eyes widen when I see my mom staring at me. "You're awake," I croak out. "You're awake!" I exclaim. "Where does it hurt? Should I call the doctor?" I stand up to run to the door.

"I'm fine," She whispers, and I turn back to her. She reaches out her hands for me to take them, and I hold her hands gently and say, "I was watching you sleep. You shouldn't be here, Mama."

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back and ask, "Where else would I have been? I wanted to be here, just in case you woke up."

She nods, "I know. I also know that I'm stressing you with this." She looks at herself and back at me and says, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry for anything. You didn't choose to be sick. It's fine; you cared for me, so it's my time." She looks at me but doesn't say anything for a while.

"I know you want to take care of me, but you've got to let me go at some point. I don't need to be a genius to know how expensive and stressful this must be for you."

I shake my head and say, "Don't say that; you will be okay. The doctor said, You need to do the surgery, and everything will be okay."

"Where are you going to take the money from?"

I think about it briefly before a light goes up: "I know what I'm going to do."

I don't plan to tell her, but I will see my sperm donor. Maybe he could be used for something important.

"Please don't do anything crazy," she whispers, trying to lift her fingers. She rubs my face. "Take care of yourself. I'm tired and should rest."

I nod, "You should. The doctors gave you enough sleeping pills to help with it."

She nods. "I love you," she whispers as sleep takes over. I wipe the tears that must've fallen and rub her chin.

"I love you too." I stand up and pull the bedsheet over her properly. I pick up my bag and walk towards the door, looking at her again before stepping outside.

If there's one thing I know, my father is the biggest jerk, but I will take my chances with him.

I walk down the hallway and pass the women's restroom. I stand in front of the mirror, and my eyes catch the sight of me, and my eyes widen in horror.

I have messy black hair pulled back into a bun, with strands escaping and falling around my face. Dark circles frame my eyes, giving away the fatigue I've been feeling. My light green eyes, though usually vibrant, now appear bloodshot and tired. I have a cute button nose that adds a touch of innocence to my face, and when I smile, my dimples make an appearance, adding a touch of playfulness. Freckles sprinkle across my cheeks like little constellations, giving my complexion a unique charm, but today I look like a zombie.

I've always loved my lips.

I shake my head and turn the tap on. I wash my face, pull a towel from the bag, and wipe my face. I wet the edge of the towel and rub it under my arms before applying my roll-on and changing into a blouse. I was wearing a black hoodie, and I knew that going to my sperm donor's office, I'd need to look somewhat decent, so I was wearing a flowery blue blouse.

I comb my hair and wrap it into a ponytail, looking at my brown skin again. I can say I look better than before I entered. I am better looking. I pack my things in the bag and head towards the hospital entrance.

I've never wanted to ask this man for anything.

Ever since he left me and my mother before I was born, I remember meeting him when I was young. He looked at me like I was a speck of dust beneath him. Maybe I was, given that he's a millionaire, but still, I am his daughter.

I wave at the nurse at the station and step outside, breathing in the fresh air, relieved to inhale something else apart from the smell of medicine and sickness.

I check my bag and realize I have little money for transportation, but I'll take my chances with him just this once, hoping he'll listen for my mother's sake.

I flag down a taxi and say, "I'm going to Knight's Palace." The driver looks unsure of where I want to go but nods and smiles.

Knight's Palace is a place I've always heard of but never entered. I've heard it's a luxurious hotel, and knowing my sperm donor, I have no trouble believing that.

As the scenarios pass, the taxi eventually stops, and the driver looks expectantly at me. I pay him $20 and hop out of the cab.

It's spring here, and it's been somewhat wet lately. I gaze at the tall golden building, standing tall and proud over the city. In bold letters, "KNIGHTS PALACE" shines, making it clear to the entire world who it belongs to.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I walk towards the door, which opens on its own accord. The rich smell of expensive cologne wafts through the air. Men in black with earpieces stand on the left side of the room.

There is a big black desk with two women sitting, and just by being in there, I can tell it's an expensive place. A man and woman holding suitcases pass by me, and the woman looks at me with disgust before walking out.

What did I do to her?

I approach the secretary, and one of the women scowls at me while the other smiles. "Welcome to Knight's Palace. How may we be of service to you, ma'am?"

I shuffle closer to the friendlier woman and say, "Uhm, I'm here to see Mr. Knights. Is he here?"

Her face shows surprise before she composes herself: "Does he know you're coming?"

I shake my head, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I can't provide any information if he doesn't know you are coming or there's no appointment."

I sigh and nod. "I understand, but could you please call him and tell him I'm here?"

She looks conflicted. "Ma'am..."

I plead with my eyes, "Please, it's important."

She nods and picks up the telephone beside her, dialing a number and placing the phone to her ear. As I wait, I glance around the room, hoping he'll agree to see me. He's my last option right now.

Three men exit the elevator, and the one in the middle looks angry. He's talking to the other two as he walks past me: "Who does he think he is to refuse that kind of offer?"

I don't hear the response of the men next to him because the friendly woman interrupts, "What's your name, ma'am?"

"Savannah. Savannah Miller."

She nods and goes to speak on the phone: "Uhm, okay, sir. Alright, I apologize." From the look on her face, I know he rejected the request, but I'm desperate, so I grab the phone from her.

"Please, just give me a few minutes of your time. I promise to be quick with what I have to say," I implore the friendly woman, who watches me with horror and fear.

I hear a sharp inhale of breath before he answers, "Fine. Give the phone back to her."

I nod, even though he can't see me, and hand the phone back to the woman, saying, "I'm so sorry, I'm just desperate. He wants to talk to you."

She looks at me, sighs, and places the phone to her ear. "I'm sorry, sir, she just took..." She goes quiet. "Okay, sir. Thank you." She hangs up and watches me. "He said you should go up to the last floor, not the penthouse, ma'am, the last floor.”

I nod and say, "I'm so sorry again. I just needed to see him. I didn't mean to get you into any trouble."

The woman with the scowl scoffs. "Of course you didn't," she mocks.

I narrow my eyes at her and turn back to the friendlier woman, who smiles at me. "It's okay, and I'm not in trouble, ma'am. I hope everything goes well."

"Thank you," I whisper and head for the elevator. I'm desperate to speak to him, hoping he'll listen and help.

This isn't about me; it's about my mom. I press the button for the last floor in the elevator, watching nervously as the numbers begin to go up.

What if he doesn't help?

What if he throws me out?

I'm willing to do anything right now.

As we get closer to the floor, my anxiety rises. I'm sweating, and I rub my palms on my jeans, biting my nails nervously.

I may not be someone people take advantage of, but right now, my pride has gone to the side.

The elevator stops and opens with a beep. I step out hesitantly, finding two men waiting. "Are you Miss Savannah?" one of the men asks.

I nod my head, and he gestures for me to follow him. Walking down the hallway, I'm too nervous to look at my surroundings. After passing two or three doors, we reach the biggest one that reads "CEO" on it.

The man nods at me to enter before walking back where we came. I'm left alone, standing in front of the door of my sperm donor before knocking slowly.

"Come in," he says.

I push the door handle open to see my sperm donor sitting behind a brown desk, looking at me with an annoyed expression.

I swallowed the lump in my throat at seeing his face. "Hurry in; I don't have much time." I enter and slam the door shut behind me.

The room suddenly becomes thick with tension as we watch each other.

His lips curled into a cold smirk. "Hello, Daughter."