There was a faint fragrance of fried onions and soap throughout the house. The little living room where Rachel had cuddled up on the couch was colder than normal. It wasn't because of the draughty windows; it was because Mama was so tired that it had seeped into the walls. Every night, it felt like she had the weight of a thousand suns on her shoulders. Rachel stood quietly in the corner, her eyes following the delicate creases that were appearing on her mother's face, the way her shoulders were slowly slumping, and the faint, worn moan she let out when she put down another bag of groceries.
Mama never said anything bad. She didn't have the money. They didn't have the time or money to complain. She worked four jobs, and each one wore her down, both physically and mentally. It was already dark outside when she got home. The streets were full of people who didn't know her sorrow and didn't owe her anything. She'd go in with a smile on her face and say hello to Rachel like nothing had happened.
"Hey, my little star," Mama would begin in a sweet, tired, but authoritative voice. "How was school today?"
Rachel didn't like the smile. She loathed seeing her mother put it on, layer after layer, like a mask that wouldn't come off. She hated that Mama never stopped or let herself rest. And she hated that there was nothing she could do to help.
Her first employment was at the downtown café, where Mama's hands went quicker than anyone's eyes could follow. She balanced steaming cups, pastries, and gratuities that never showed how hard she worked. She raced right to the dry cleaners for her second job as soon as her shift was over. She was usually humming gently, as if music could help her get rid of her tiredness. She arrived in the office building by late afternoon, cleaning and scrubbing floors till her knees hurt and her fingers were sore from the chemicals. When Rachel was already asleep, Mama arrived home with bags from her fourth job, a small catering service that kept her busy till midnight.
Rachel often remained up late and pretended to sleep while watching Mama from the doorway. She saw her mother's eyes droop for a second, her hands shake a little as she poured a glass of water, and the soft sigh that Rachel believed she couldn't hear. Every movement screamed tiredness, and every grin screamed giving up.
"Mom..." Rachel tried one night, quietly walking into the kitchen. "Why do you do all of this?"
Mama looked up, surprised, and a tired smile spread across her face. "Because... you deserve it, Rachel," she murmured, her voice shaking a little. "Because someone needs to make sure you don't feel the world's cruelty like I have."
Rachel's chest got tight. She wanted to run to her mother and tell her she wasn't alone, but she knew Mama wouldn't let her. Mama was too haughty and too set in her ways. Rachel, who was only 19 at the time, felt like she had no control.
Rachel sometimes thought about how long her mother could keep on like this. How long she could carry the body of an exhausted lady and the spirit of a fighter. How many more evenings would she come home smelling like coffee, detergent, and burnt toast, only to hug Rachel and smile like the day hadn't completely broken her?
Rachel sometimes thought about what life might have been like if Papa hadn't been so mean, if Mama could have worked without worrying about what he would say, and if love hadn't come with fear and control. Papa was gone now, so Mama had to fight by herself, but she did. Every day, every hour, every breath.
Rachel gulped hard, and tears were about to fall. She despised how little she felt next to Mama's power and how she couldn't handle even a small part of the load. But maybe for the first time, she knew what real love looked like. It wasn't in words or comforts; it was in her tiredness, her silent strength, and the way her hands shook after cleaning the floors of a building that never knew her name.
Rachel sat next to her mother on the couch that night when she eventually fell asleep. Her body was limp, and for a brief moment, her head rested on Rachel's shoulder. There were no words. There was no need for any. Rachel felt the weight of all those hours, jobs, love, and sacrifices, and she promised herself that one day, it would all be worth it.
She would get up. She would be bright. She would make sure that their dreams came true, so Mama would never have to give up her life again. But Rachel knew that sometimes love asks for more than the body can give and the heart can bear, and Mama was paying the price for all her strength.