I washed the last dish and set it aside. There! Finally done. I arched my back to ease out the cramps that I'm sure will feel during the night as I undid the threadbare apron around me. It has become a habit that I rarely go a day without feeling pain anymore. Pain, my constant companion.

I checked the clock hanging in the diner's kitchen. It's past 8 pm. An hour over my checkout time. Oh no! Mandy wouldn't like babysitting Alan longer than expected.

Alan, my two-year-old son. Though he is just a baby he has seen his fair share of difficulties. Life is cruel when you are poor. Add on to that Alan's health doesn't always allow him to enjoy life as it is.

Her baby has a hearing problem; which happened due to her complex pregnancy. Because of which people often mistake him for a naughty child. He is not naughty. No. Her baby is precious. Only, he couldn't hear properly, couldn't hear the frustration or anger in the people's voice.

If Mandy also backs away from babysitting Alan, I don't know what I would do. With my meager salary, it is hard enough to bring up a child with health issues. Not to forget rent, groceries, and doctor fees.

And the state is of no help as I'm a foreigner. Though Alan was born here, I don't have the necessary documents that will help me provide the aid from the state. If only his father was alive.

I swiftly wiped the tear that trickled down my cheek. Thoughts of Dante always do that to me. That's a different life Natalie, nothing will come out of it, I reprimanded myself.

I swiftly washed my hands under the running water and threw the folded apron haphazardly on the counter and walked out of the kitchen to meet Charlie.

Charlie is the owner of this dingy diner where I work as a dishwasher. At one point in my life, I didn't know which utensils were used for what. I was that ignorant.

But life has a way to teach everything. And fate had made sure I learned how to use utensils, how to clean them. This is my life now. It was not the case before. Once my life was a dream that no ordinary girl would have expected. Now...

I shoved the dark thoughts that would always bring my mood down to the darkest corner of my mind.

I wiped my hands on my worn jeans twice before approaching Charlie. He is not slimy or lecherous like some of those customers in diners I used to work with. Nor is he generous with his employees like I used to read in the novels once.

He is indifferent to my situation. After seeing many such cases with people having no dime to their name, barely scraping to eat, Charlie started to care less. Life does that to you.

I shuffled my feet, not knowing how to ask this but I have to. I have no choice.

"Charlie," I mumbled as I wet my dry lips. I swiped my clammy palms once again on my jeans and called him louder.

"Ya," Charlie asked carelessly as he drank the beer from his can.

"I... I need some money," I whispered, afraid that if I raised my voice, he might think of it as a demand.

"Money? I gave you just two weeks ago," he scoffed.

I wet my dry lips, clasping my hands before me, and pleaded, "yes, yes, you have. And I'm so grateful for that. But Alan is having some issues. I'm afraid his infection has come back. I need to take him to the hospital. Could you..." I hardened my heart and begged, "could you please give me $150?"

"$150! That's outrageous. You want an advance without work! What do you think I'm? A saint? I haven't opened a charity house here. You work, you get paid. If you have any problem with that, you are always free to leave. There are a dime a dozen who are unemployed," he glared at me as if I had asked for a share in his property.

"I... Charlie, I wouldn't ask if it is not for Alan. Please, he is sick. I need the money. I swear I will repay you by working overtime," I pleaded, clutching my hands so tightly in front of me that the nails pierced my skin.

Charlie assessed me with a dangerous glint. He put the can he was drinking on the table in front of him and rubbed his chin. I don't like the look in his eye. A strange unease crept up my spine.

Though he never dared to look at me differently, he is drunk now. High on alcohol. I darter my eyes scanning for any soul present in the diner. It is empty.

"How much did you say the amount was?" Charlie asked as he scrutinized me from top to bottom as if I'm a bug.

"One...one fifty dollars," I mumbled, wishing to be anywhere but here.

"One fifty dollars! That's a huge amount to give a mere dishwasher. Don't you think? What will you do for that amount?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked with a frown between my eyebrows

"How important is money to you?"

I dropped my hands to my sides. I know where this is going, but I won't think about it. Why, oh why, can't a human being help others without asking anything in return?

Charlie is not the first owner to pin me with his lecherous stare. But I expected better from him. When will I learn that life is not fair!

I clenched my fists at my sides as I raised to my full height which is nothing more than 5'.3'' and asked in a stern voice, "What are you suggesting Charlie?"

I wanted to say cut the crap, come to the point. But I held it back. Perhaps, he doesn't mean anything with that question.

"You are a young girl, Natalie. Still in my early twenties. You must be in college. Alas, fate has dealt a rough hand with you. Maybe it is not late yet. We can satisfy each other's needs. One fuck. That's it. Then you can have your 150 dollars. That's not a bad deal, I say," Charlie leered as he licked his lips staring at my ample chest.

I curbed the urge to cross my arms over my chest. No. I haven't done wrong to feel ashamed.

"Go. To. Hell," I said between my clenched jaw as anger boiled inside me.

Charlie blinked his eyes as if I were speaking a foreign language. I was never the one to raise my voice. That doesn't mean I don't have the fire inside me. I may be meek but not spineless.

Charlie glared at me and slammed his fist on the table before him in anger.

"You dare speak to me like that after I gave you a solution? Who do you think you are to be an uppity bitch? You are just a dishwasher. You know what, you are not that too. You are fired!"

The anger left me as quickly as it came. "But-"

Charlie cut off my questioning as he said firmly, "pack your things and leave."

Unexpected tears gathered in my eyes. I could beg on my knees, but I think it won't do any good unless I... no! I may be poor, but I'm not at a point where selling my body is the only resort.

Gathering my pride around myself as an invisible cloak, I straightened my spine and went to the kitchen to collect my bag.

"Bitch!" Charlie muttered under his breath.

I ignored his ramblings and entered the kitchen and swiftly took my bag. I looked at the remains of the food that Charlie had set aside to throw away.

I peered a glance behind me to check whether he was looking in this direction and hastily rolled the food in a paper.

I safely tucked the food in my bag and clutched it tightly to my chest as if it held gold in it and left the diner without a backward glance.

Yes, I stole the food in the diner. It's not like anyone is going to eat it. Some may say it is spoiled, but this is the only food I could afford. I clutched my stomach as it protested its hungry ramblings as the stale bread I ate in the morning was long gone.

I bent my head, not making any eye contact with anyone as I walked faster on the street.

My mind though couldn't help but point out the mistake I have made. Charlie has fired me. Fired. That means one less job.

One less job equals less money. I'm already struggling with two jobs. How can I manage with one job? Where will I get the money for Alan's doctor fee?

I swallowed the lump in my throat at life's injustice. What a joke? His father was a billionaire yet I don't have $150 to treat his infection.

A sob tore through me. How did my life become this? Where did everything go wrong? My eyes welled up as I thought about Alan. I wiped the tears with my left hand and continued my walk on this seedy street that is filled with strip clubs, dingy diners, and warehouses.

As I was passing the strip club, my eyes landed on the poster stuck to its door. It's a 'job' advertisement. Though saying it is a job, is a little stretchy. They are looking for strippers.

I stopped in my tracks as I looked at the salary. My eyes bulged thinking what the amount will do to us, to Alan. I could hire a babysitter that doesn't complain like Mandy.

We could live comfortably eating two meals a day. I can have a proper meal that is not spoiled for once. And Alan... Alan can finally have his check-up. But am I ready for this? Ready to strip before a group of strangers?

I gulped and entered the strip club. The sudden light from the outside street lamp made the people inside look at the entrance.

My hands got clammy as I felt the stares of the people. Without meeting the eyes of anyone, I shuffled to the bartender at the far side.

The bartender blatantly checked me from top to bottom as if it's totally normal. I wiped the sweat that had gathered at my temple and asked with a dry mouth, "may I please talk to the owner?"

He noticed the poster clutched in my hand and his demeanor changed. He smirked and said, "tap on the door of the far-left corner. Wait for his answer before you enter. He might be busy; you know what I mean."

The bartender winked as if he was sharing a joke with me. I ignored his over-friendly nature and walked in the direction he pointed.

As he said, the owner was really busy. I fought the blush that crept up my neck as the owner and the girl adjusted their clothes before me.

Once the girl sauntered off with a kiss on his cheek, the owner turned to me and waved to the opposite chair to sit.

Uh... no thanks, I don't know what liquids the chair has seen.

"How can I help you?" The owner asked politely, with no expression on his face as he noticed my worn-out jeans, washed-out t-shirt with a small hole at the hem, my bag with a broken zip, and dusty sneakers.

If I don't know any better, I would say, he is recruiting for a cashier in a supermarket, not a stripper.

I left the door open not trusting the guy yet and replied, "I saw the poster on the door."

That's it. I couldn't say more. The word 'stripper' stuck in my throat. Am I really doing this? A sudden panic seized me from within.

Noticing my darting eyes, my clammy hands, the owner sat straight. Perhaps, he has met girls like me many times.

He soothingly said, "Hey, hey, relax. No one is forcing you to do anything. Take a deep breath. It's ok. Everything is going to be alright. Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

I'm not this messy usually. But circumstances had made me like this. Taking a lung full of air, I replied, "My name is Natalie Thompson. I'm 21-years-old. I have a son. Alan. He is two and he is very sick..."

I trailed away, unable to continue as I saw Alan's teary face in my mind.

The owner, understanding my situation, asked, “where is the father?"

I closed my eyes to control the pain that question brings every time. "Dead," I uttered.

"Do you want the job?" The owner asked, pointing to the poster still clutched in my hands.

I gulped and looked at the crumpled paper in my hands. Do I want to strip before strangers who pierce me with their hungry lustful stares? No. But do I have a choice?

"Ye... yes," I responded meekly.

"It's yours," he said, staring into my eyes.

"Really? Do you... do you mean that?" I asked not to believe his simple statement. Surely, there must be a catch. Why else would a strip club owner recruit me without testing my 'goods'? I mentally cringed imagining that.

How can I do the job when I can't even imagine with only one guy? I have to. Nothing is more important than Alan's health.

"Yes," the owner replied offhandedly. "Come tomorrow. Cherry will train you."

"Thank you. Thank you so much. You don't know how much you have helped me," I said with tears brimming my eyes as I took off, afraid he would change his decision.

Once outside, I jogged to my home noticing the time. Shit! It's 8:45 pm. Mandy won't like it.

I reached my flat, panting, bent down, my hands on my legs as I took a minute to control my breath. I live on the fourth floor of a rundown apartment with locks that can be picked even by a five-year-old in this neighborhood and a broken lift. A miasma of stale alcohol hung around the area. I can afford only this.

My neighbor Mandy, is a prostitute. She is the only one whom I trust somewhat and who is willing to look after Alan while I work. In return, I give her 20% of my earnings. Nothing is free.

With a smile that I don't feel, I knocked on the door. Mandy opened it with a scowl and glared at me.

"I'm sorry I'm late," I ducked under her arm to enter the house.

"Shove it. Now because of you, I'm late to MY work," Mandy said sternly.

With a blush, I mumbled "sorry" once again. "Tsk... tsk... tsk. You are the only one in this neighborhood, who can still blush you know?" Mandy informed cocking her eyebrow.

"Whatever"

"One of these days, you will lose it when life comes knocking on your door," Mandy said bitterly. She is not bitter at my ability to blush. She is bitter at the circumstances. That's the common story in this neighborhood.

"Maybe I will. I have joined Randy's"

"Randy's? Do you mean the strip club around the corner? What happened to your other jobs?"

"You know how it is. Charlie tried his luck with me. I rejected it. He threw me out," I said, shrugging my shoulders as if it's no big deal.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry," Mandy enveloped me in a hug.

I wiped the lone tear that slipped past my cheeks and said to her, "enough about me. You are going to be late. Go."

"Ya... ya. The johns can hold their junk for a second. You take care," she squeezed me and released me from her hold.

"How was he today?" I asked her as I looked at my son who was asleep on the small bed. The bed and a small dresser are the only pieces of furniture in the room. Other than small utensils to cook and some toys for Alan to play there is nothing much.

I looked at the one-bedroom slash living room slash open kitchen and felt a pang in my chest. If only Dante had been here to help. The pain that was so intense it was crippling when I learned about his death is now just a flicker in my gut.

Mandy's response brought me back from my musings as she replied, "as usual. A little bit cranky. Poor soul cried a lot. His ear is paining him, Natalie. I think you should take him to the hospital," Mandy wet her lips as she then said, "I know a doctor. He is off-charts. But at least he is something. Maybe he can prescribe something to little Alan"

I bit my lower lip contemplating it. "No Mandy. I don't know how he is and what he will prescribe. It's better if I take Alan to his regular doctor," I said with a dejected voice.

"Suit yourself," Mandy said flippantly as she turned to leave.

She meant well. But I'm not ready to play with Alan's health. His safety comes first. For that, if I have to strip then so be it. Mandy wouldn't understand because she never saw any other life.

But I... I once had the world at my fingertips. I dined at costly restaurants, wearing expensive jewels. I never longed for those materialistic things, but it would have been nice if I had a little bit of cash at hand. Now I realize the value of money and how important it is for one's survival.

I try with my small pittance to provide for Alan what his father never could. It is by no means the same. After all, his father was a billionaire. But I will try.

I kissed Alan's forehead and took my bag to the kitchen counter. I ate the food, trying not to notice the soggy texture and the smell. They are nutrients, I tell myself as I devour the food not living a single crumb.

After cleaning myself up, I laid beside Alan in the cramped space, minding not to touch him anywhere, and closed my eyes.

Dante's face swims in my mind's eye. If daytimes are a struggle, then the nights are tormented. The corner of my eyes burned. However, I couldn't muster any more tears as I stubbornly refused to shed them. I closed my eyes and gave in to the tiredness of my body.

Alan's small hands woke me up. I smiled at him and kissed his forehead, hugging him closely.

I checked the time, it's 6 am. I peered outside through the window. The sky has turned into a deep orange hue, grey clouds drifting by like stained silken brocade. Looks like it's going to rain.

Thank god, I don't have to go to my other job today. I work as a maid in a small hotel three days a week. On those days I take Alan with me. Since it is for only 2 hours until I clean the rooms or do stuff, the manager won't mind. However, the pay is less than what Charlie gives me.

With Randy's job, that dent will be filled. But what about babysitting Alan? Who will do that? Who will look after him? Mandy also has to work during the night. That leaves with me no other option other than hiring a stranger. A stranger in this seedy place. No. I have to think about something else.

I shoved the thoughts of work and babysitters in the back of my mind and concentrated on Alan and his needs.

At 2 pm, just as Alan slept for his afternoon nap, a knock sounded on the door. I tucked Alan safely and opened it.

A police officer stood before me with a serious expression.

My heart pounded in my ears. Panic rose from my chest like liquid fire crawling up my throat. A visit from a police officer is never good. I learned that the hard way.

"How... how may I help you?" I asked gripping my door tightly

"I'm here to talk about Mr. Dante Sideris," the police officer replied with a stern face.

"What about him?" I questioned with a frown. And then realized the date. Of course.

"Is this about his death anniversary? Does his family want something from me?" I queried though I don't possess any valuable item that his family may deem worthy. Except... Alan. Oh no.

I slowly shifted somewhat, hiding the sleeping Alan from his view. However, the officer's eyes never strayed from my face.

"He is... he is alive," the officer replied, meeting my eyes and disturbing my world with just these three words. HE. IS. ALIVE.

"Please don't joke, officer," I gritted with a clenched jaw. Anger surged through me dispersing the fear inside me. How dare he mock me with such news?

"It's not a joke, Mrs. Sideris. Your husband is really alive," the officer replied, removing his cap and holding it under his arm.

"Please... you are mistaken," I whispered, unwilling to believe it yet a small ray of hope lightened within me. What if it's true? Is Dante really alive?

I closed my eyes fearing the hope. After living for almost three years in a rundown apartment, working hand to mouth, I lost what it feels like to hope. Hope is dangerous... it can make or break you. For people like me, there is no room for hope.

"No mistake Mrs. Sideris. It is true. Mr. Dante Sideris is alive and he is on his way to meet you," the officer informed, checking his watch.

I couldn't think... couldn't comprehend. For a minute, my world tilted its axis. Dante... my Dante is alive.

"Oh my god!" I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands, finally grasping what it means.

The next thing I know blackness engulfed me, threatening to slip my grip on reality. My knees wobbled, unable to support my weight any longer. All the blood left my brain. I gasped once again, trying to calm my breathing. My hands shook, my vision blurred, darkness surrounded me.

Before I could crumble like a leaf on the floor, the officer clasped his hand around my arm, supporting me.

He then slowly pushed me on my feet and entered my home without permission. He stood stock still looking at the inside of my home.

His grip didn't slack as he turned and gently took me to the bed. A frown appeared between his eyebrows looking at the baby Alan who slept peacefully through this ordeal.

He shifted slightly, his aloofness crumbling as he said, "does Mr. Sideris know about the baby?"

"I-," I swayed on my feet.

"Of course. What was I thinking! Please sit down. Do you need anything? Water perhaps?" The officer asked concern laced in his voice.

"No. No thank you. I will be fine in a minute," I responded as I gulped a lung full of air. I bent down, my face between my legs. My brain is in no condition to dissect the news. It has shattered my little world and glued together haphazardly.

I should feel elated. Happy that my husband, the love of my life, Dante is alive. But a bone-chilling numbness took hold of me.

A darker side of me started pointing out-

Why didn't he contact me till now if he is alive? Where was he for these years? How could he forget about me? Do I matter so much to him? Was my love not enough?

Not a single word passed through my lips though. I swerved the darker thoughts to the back of my mind. This is not the time to doubt his motives, this time is to be happy. Perhaps he has a reason to stay away.

After several minutes where I took long breaths to stop my shivers, I faced the officer who stood on the side awkwardly, shuffling his legs.

"Shall I call the medic?" The officer questioned, sweeping the sweat on his brow.

"No. I'm fine now. Please sit down. Where are my manners! Would you like a cup of coffee?" I queried though inside I prayed that there is enough left in the jar to make a cup of instant coffee.

Coffee became a luxury. I could only afford those cheap instant coffee satchels that have no aroma.

The officer glanced around the room once, and with his mouth set in a thin line, he replied, "no. I'm full. Just had lunch."

My cheeks turned red understanding his reasoning. Of course. Who won't be able to guess looking at this home? I tried to keep it clean, but there is hardly anything to see or own.

I might be destitute, but I have my pride. With as much dignity I could muster, I rose and walked to the kitchen saying over my shoulder, "you might be full, officer. But a cup of coffee won't harm anything."

I didn't give him a chance to refuse. I turned and got busy making that cup of coffee. I scraped the jar, praying the officer won't look in this direction. He left my pride intact and sat on the chair, casually scrolling messages on his mobile.

This all is a delaying tactic, nothing more. Some people jump on the messengers to hear everything when they learn life-altering news. I avoid it. I need time to compose, to get to terms with the news.

Once the coffee was made, I passed it to the officer, feeling proud that I was able to salvage a cup.

For a few minutes, the only noise in the room was the cup's tingling as he drank. After he set it on the kitchen counter, he turned to me and said in a serious tone, "I presume you have questions about Mrs. Sideris. If you want you can ask me or you can ask your husband."

Dante? I always leave tongue-tied before him. It's better to learn whatever there is to learn from him.

Sterling myself for any sudden surprises. I leaned forward and asked, "what happened? We thought he was dead. The accident..."

I trailed away as tears welled up in my eyes at the thought of Dante in pain.

Thankfully, the officer comprehended my train of thought and answered, "It is true that Mr. Dante Sideris's jet crashed. Fortunately, he survived. His body drifted to an island in Indonesia. He had suffered many severe injuries, especially to his head. He was in a coma for a while. The doctors thought he wouldn't be able to make it."

A sob left past my lips. Oh my god. Dante might have died. He was in pain.

"Why didn't they bring him here? Surely, they would have known that with his money he could have afforded the best doctor in the field," I said in a crumpling voice as tears seeped past my cheeks.

"That's the issue, Mrs. Sideris. They don't know who he was," the officer said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, Dante. He must have been in so much pain. Did he wake up from the coma recently?" I lifted my face to the officer and probed, searching with my eyes.

"No, Mrs. Sideris. He came out of the coma a year ago."

"Then why didn't he contact his family?" I wanted to say why didn't he contact me? But I couldn't utter them without voicing out my insecurities.

"As I said. He has suffered a head injury which made it tough to regain his memories"

"You mean to say"

"Yes, Mrs. Sideris. Mr. Sideris had amnesia"

"How did he learn who he was?" I asked with tears in my eyes. Poor Dante. He must have felt so lost.

He is the kind of person who needs to be always in control of the situation. For a man like him, it must have been a blow to find himself stranded in an unknown place with unknown people and no memories of his identity.

What must he have gone through? How confused he must have felt? No one to talk to, no one to guide him.

I ducked my head and wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand.

"It's like in those movies. Mr. Sideris had a similar accident where he hit his head at the same angle"

A gasp escaped my lips. "Oh no! Is it serious? Is he in pain? Has he been asking for me?"

I swiftly stood up searching for my bag that contained all the necessary documents.

"He is fine Mrs. Sideris. It's not exactly an accident. Mr. Sideris suffered a punch to his face. It hit him at the right angle, shaking him up a little. And the next thing he knows, he remembered everything"

"A punch? Was he mugged?" I asked, fearing for his safety.

"No. Nothing of that sort. It's his story to tell. But understand that he is well and truly better and is coming home."

With that, the officer walked to the door. But a lot before glancing at Alan with a thoughtful look.

"Thank you, officer, for informing me," I said humbly.

If it would have left Dante's family, I would have been left out, never to be informed.

"Just doing my job Mrs. Sideris. Mr. Sideris contacted us to locate you. We just wanted to make sure it is you before alerting him. I hope you don't mind," the officer said sheepishly.

"It's ok, officer. But please keep the knowledge of Alan to yourself. I want to be the one to tell him," I pleaded.

The officer's eyes swept past me, landing on Alan, and met my eyes.

"As you wish Mrs. Sideris." He pressed his hand to the cap and left with a "good day, Mrs. Sideris."

I closed the door and stood, my back touching it. Dante is alive. It slowly dawned on me that it means we don't have to live in this dingy apartment anymore. No need to take that stripper post. And Alan... Alan would finally get the treatment he needed.