A Piece of Your Heart

When my performance was over, I immediately went backstage, feeling a little confused.

It was a strange feeling. I had never really looked at him for too long before, but when our eyes met earlier, I felt like I had really met him somewhere before.

But as to where, I had no idea.

I tried to shrug it off as I walked to the locker room. After grabbing my bag and sitting down on one of the empty benches, I took out my phone and wallet and started going over my finances for the month.

Fortunately, I had more than enough for at least two meals a day for the next three weeks. Ken was in his final year of med school, so just one more year of the grind, and things would finally become a lot easier once he started his residency program.

Sighing, I leaned back against the wall and gazed up at the ceiling, wondering how my life became like this.

I grew up as the eldest daughter in a family of five. My father worked in construction while my mother worked a part-time job in the morning in order to help with the finances. Money had been extremely tight back then, with me and my siblings barely getting to eat three meals a day, but we were happy nevertheless.

Our relationship had always been tight-knit; my dad was strict and my mom nagged at us on occasion, but it was all out of love. In truth, my dad could barely say no to us, his children, while my mom would always help us out with homework even though both of them were tired from their jobs.

We siblings appreciated them so much that we grew humble and hardworking, wishing that we could do something quickly to pay back our parents for their selfless efforts in raising us.

Ken was the middle child of the family. He was a sweet young boy in his senior year in high school. He was always top of the class and he worked a part-time job at a convenience store at night to earn his own allowance.

Working at such a place could get quite boring, so he always used that idle time to study and review his notes. He was getting ready for college and was also preparing to get a scholarship.

Louisa, the youngest of the family, was a sweetheart who often made everyone smile. She had just gotten enrolled in middle school, and she had a lot of friends because of her cheerful, outgoing nature.

Being the youngest of the family and a female at that, we always looked out for her the best we could. You could say that we were quite protective of her, but we also made sure not to embarrass her.

We were a happy family, but we struggled greatly with money. My dad was getting weaker, and my mom was sleeping less and less taking care of the house and also working to support us. They were starting to worry about sending my brother to college, so I made a decision.

“I’ll drop out,” I told them one day while they were discussing the matter seriously in the kitchen.

Mom was aghast. “Julia! You can’t do that!”

Dad frowned at me, looking entirely disapproving. “I will not allow it. You will continue your college degree, and that’s that.”

“But my brother has to go to college,” I told them. “He has better grades than I do, and I know that my major is too expensive for you guys to afford. I’m already grateful enough to you two that you agreed to have me enroll in this course in the first place despite knowing how expensive it is, just because you know that art is my passion. However,” I added quietly, my heart breaking at what I was about to say next, “we all know very well that it isn’t a lucrative career at all compared to being a doctor.”

“Julia-”

“Mom, I’ll find work instead and help you guys out,” I said firmly. “My degree can wait. My brother… Ken has too much at stake to give up just yet. He has to continue his studies no matter what. He’s going to be a doctor, Mom. The scholarship can only fund so much, and you know that. Ken has a much brighter future than I do. I promise that I’ll be fine. I can wait.”

Mom was crying. Dad was soothing her back while staring at me with his eyes filled with emotion. I knew that it was a hard decision for them. They were already suffering because of Dad’s hospital bills last month for his surgery, so continuing to support my tuition and allowances was taking a toll on their finances.

They didn’t know this, but I found out that they also dipped into their hard-earned savings and asked for help from our relatives. They were even considering taking out a loan.

It pained my heart to see them like that, so I went through many sleepless nights and eventually came up with this decision. I knew that it was for the best even though it hurt me to do so.

Making art was a part of me. It was my passion. I loved to draw and design things. Even though I knew it was hard to make creative processes into a lucrative career, I was determined to work hard and hone my skills so I could create a beautiful portfolio while applying for jobs.

Art supplies and digital equipment cost a lot of money, but my parents believed in me because they had faith and also because they saw what I could do.

Unfortunately, my dream of getting a degree and finding a stable job after graduation would have to end right here.

And it was true. Ken had about a million times more potential than I did when it came to getting a high-paying job, and he was very diligent with his studies, too. He was the family’s only hope, so I didn’t really mind giving up my education for him.

If I chose to continue with my college education, Ken would have to delay getting into university after his high school education. It was a no-brainer.

So I quit school and began doing part-time jobs here and there at the age of nineteen.

It continued on like this for eight years, and I never once complained. At least, not to my family.

My friends were now either working abroad or staying at home as new mothers. It was lonely. I worked at restaurants, bars, and hotels as a mere service employee. I had one boss who was kind enough to notice my hard work and gave me a raise, especially since I told her once about my family situation.

I also had one boss who kept working me to the bone and never giving me any overtime fees, especially after sending me on multiple errands every few days. I really wanted to quit working there, but the pay was a bit higher compared to my usual jobs, so I had to endure it.

Working three jobs a day was a pain. You had to be energetic and friendly every day or else customers would complain. You also had to be good and organized with your work so that the customers would lessen their nitpicks.

It was not only exhausting physically, but also mentally.

My brother was now in his final year of med school with a full scholarship, and he was living in a dorm there. After getting a diploma and going through rigorous training, he was one step away from starting his residency program. I had never felt more proud.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

In these eight years, I only took care of my brother and barely left some time for myself.

I was 27 years old now. Five years ago, I’d have already completed my major. Five years ago, I would’ve probably gotten a stable job by now. Five years ago, I would’ve been on the same timeline as my peers.

But to this day, I was alone. My friends from high school and college were already living their best lives, working hard and traveling the world, and getting engaged or married. They were racing right towards their dreams while I trailed behind them at the base of the staircase.

I was approaching my thirties now. One more year, and I could start saving up for my college again. I wanted to finish my degree and graduate and get back on track again. I loved my brother and I didn’t regret my sacrifice, but from time to time I couldn’t help but think about what could’ve been.

I sighed. “You can’t do this to yourself, Julia,” I told myself aloud.

People often said that life wasn’t a race, that one could go about their life at their own pace. If I thought about it that way, I felt a little better.

Perhaps there was indeed a different future waiting for me ahead.

After arranging my things and slinging my bag over my shoulder, I exited the locker room and went back to the bar.

However, just as I approached the door leading back towards the main hall, I heard what seemed to be a loud commotion coming from there.

Frozen in place, I pondered whether I should go in or not when livid shouts suddenly drifted into my ears.

“You dirty rat! Give me back my wallet!”

“I didn’t steal your filthy wallet! Stop blaming others for your carelessness!”

“Don’t you dare try that with me! I saw the way you were looking at it earlier when I brought it out!”

I stood there, slowly processing the argument inside my head.

It seemed that there was a brawl going on at the bar.

And it did not seem pretty.