A shot at Love

Nicole's Point of View

It was a casual Saturday morning in April, just after the Easter celebration. The days were becoming longer, temperatures were rising, trees were sprouting new leaves, and it rained frequently.

My family and I were seated at the dining table. There were only five of us: my mother, a typical housewife; my father, who had been unemployed since the oil company he worked for went bankrupt; and my two brothers, who were twenty-five and twenty-four, respectively. Both were jobless and lazy, passing time gambling with neighborhood hoodlums and gangsters.

At twenty-two, I worked at a well-known and busy restaurant in downtown San Francisco. I had taken the job two years ago after completing my computer course. Ever since, my family's situation had changed-things had become hard. Every day, I brought home two hundred dollars and two full plastic bags of food, drinks, and cake. However, the two hundred dollars wasn't my daily income. It was merely a portion of the numerous tips I received from lustful older men and thriving young guys who admired my beauty. On a good day, I could make up to seven hundred dollars from admirers. Even the manager, Mrs. Alberta, often praised me for attracting more customers with my striking appearance and undeniable politeness.

My colleagues were envious and dreaded seeing me, but I couldn't care less. They weren't going to foot my bills for Harvard, where I planned to pursue a bachelor's degree. I vividly remembered the day I fell terribly ill and had to take a break from work. The manager called me, kindly asking me to show up at the restaurant-even if just for two hours-because sales had been unimpressive. I did, and guess what? The food sold out within those two hours, and I earned a thousand dollars just for being there in a pathetic state. I set aside eight hundred dollars, depositing it into my savings account, which was locked to prevent me from tampering with the funds, and took two hundred dollars home.

My mother was surprised and asked how I had managed to work only two hours and return with so much money. I dodged her question, went to my room, and slammed the door behind me. I couldn't imagine being in my mother's position-getting pregnant at sixteen and giving birth to my first brother at seventeen. A mistake she called "careless," caused by a huge crush she had on my father. Ever since her first child, she had been a housewife, taking care of chores while my father worked and provided for the family.

Now, twenty-five years later, she was forty-two with three kids. My father, six years older than her, was nowhere near his former self, having lost his job a year ago. A job that once paid him an impressive seventy thousand dollars a month had vanished like sand washed away by the tide due to bankruptcy.

Luckily for me, I had already finished high school and my course, or things would have been much harder. Two weeks after my father lost his job, I heard about a vacant position at the restaurant where I now work as head waitress. I quickly went for an interview. Boom! I got the job without any hindrances, and that was how I helped my family avoid eating from hand to mouth.

This Saturday, after breakfast, my father announced that he had an important message to deliver, so we sat attentively. His sharp voice cut through the anxious silence.

"As we all know, Nicole has been assisting this family with the most important things-feeding, rent, and transportation-ever since I lost my job. Taking up the role of a father in the family, despite being the last child, is a brave step, and I will continue to appreciate and hold her in high regard."

My brothers exchanged puzzled looks, trying to restrain themselves from bursting into laughter. They had a habit of finding amusement in serious moments. My mother nodded and smiled at me, the smirk on her lips filled with motherly love and concern.

My father continued, his voice a little calmer now. "Last week, I ran into a well-known investor from my former workplace, and he offered to help get me out of my current situation."

I widened my eyes, suddenly more inquisitive than ever. My mother leaned back in her chair, focusing her attention on him, while my brothers, for once, remained quiet.

"He said he'll give Anthony and Alfred job opportunities at a huge tech company in New York, with a hundred thousand dollars in weekly pay. He'll set up a fashion store for my wife, give me a fleet of cars, a huge mansion, millions of dollars, and connect me with influential merchants-if only I..."

He trailed off, his voice laden with sadness.

My head spun, and for a moment, I thought I was dreaming. But just as my fantasies began settling in, he made the unbelievable announcement.

"All this he's willing to do for me-if I allow Nicole to be his wife. That's the only condition. He will help me only if I agree."

My father bowed his head in guilt.

The room fell silent. My mother opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. My brothers, usually indifferent, were now more stunned than ever. As for me, I was shaken to my core. My thoughts stood still. I felt dizzy.

How could a man I didn't even know come up with such a ridiculous proposition just to help my father? It was absurd. It felt like something straight out of a novel or a movie, except this was my reality-and it was terrifying.

My eldest brother, Anthony, broke the silence, his voice tense.

"And what did you say, Father? Did you agree to his proposal?"

My father remained silent, avoiding eye contact. My anxiety hit rock bottom. My heartbeat quickened as we all waited for his response.

Still, he remained quiet-his head bowed, face gloomy, body covered in sweat. I was running out of patience. The suspense was suffocating.

"Father, please say something! Did you agree? Keeping quiet won't help anything," I pleaded, my voice thick with anxiety.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"I agreed. Not long ago, I received an alert of twenty million dollars, along with a text confirming Anthony and Alfred's employment status."

He took a deep breath before delivering the final blow.

"Nicole, you're getting married next week."

My head pounded. The world stopped spinning as tears of frustration filled my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. I refused to find solace in their presence. I stood up from the dining table and walked straight to the door.

I heard my father, mother, and brothers calling me back, but I didn't look. I crossed the main road without even glancing at my surroundings and kept walking toward the restaurant where I worked. Though it was Saturday, my day off, I needed to be alone.

With every step, my tears fell faster. Strangers stared, some whispering, others shaking their heads sympathetically. Some even laughed at my misery. After ten minutes of walking, I arrived at the restaurant and collapsed onto an empty chair at the entrance.

Then, I let it all out.

"I have done nothing but good. What have I done to deserve this? My dream of becoming an estate attorney-what will happen to it? My aspirations of being the most influential lawyer out of San Francisco have been swept away like dust in the wind. Oh Lord, why have You forsaken me? After supporting my family, this is my reward? Why? Why? Why?" I sobbed.

My father's unshaken words-You're getting married next week-echoed in my mind. The weight of his betrayal crushed me. I felt suffocated, trapped in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. My innocence, my freedom, my dreams-all stolen in a single moment.

Alone, in that quiet place, I longed for escape. But the reality of what was coming felt like an inescapable storm. My tears fell unnoticed as I whispered into the wind, "Please... someone help me."

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?"