“Valentina!” My mother’s voice rasped from her bedroom.
“I’m coming!” I called back, rushing into her room with a steaming bowl of soup and her medication. “Here.” She sat up, her hand trembling as she swallowed the ten pills required for her cancer treatment.
“Have you decided?” she asked, her voice weak as a whisper.
“No, Mama. I just… I don’t think I’m ready.” I spoke softly, watching her struggle with each swallow.
“Baby, I want to get better,” she breathed, her eyes pleading.
“I know, and I’m doing everything I can. But…”
“You’re scared?”
“Having sex with a stranger… doesn’t that scare anyone?” The words tasted like ash in my mouth.
“I’d have sex with a billion strangers if it meant I was better,” she chuckled, a hollow sound.
A tear slipped down my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Mama, that I’m being selfish. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to further your research. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, baby. It’s your decision. Just make it fast.”
“Okay,” I sighed, the weight of her request crushing me. “I’ll do it.”
A faint smile touched her lips as she took another sip of soup. “I’ll call John later and tell him to post the website.”
“Do it now,” she said, her voice too fast, too urgent.
“Why?”
“So more people see it.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I pulled out my phone, bracing myself. When John answered, I kept my tone even. “Hey John, um, I’ve decided that… I’m going to do it. You can post the website. Yes, call me when it’s done—oh… you did it already? Okay. Well, thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
I looked at her soup, the steam fading. I watched as she idly stirred her spoon through the cooling broth. She wasn’t even tasting it. I tentatively dipped my finger into the soup, then she was letting it get cold. "Thank you baby" she kissed my hand.
I managed a weak smile. “Keep eating.” I stood up and walked out of the room, the hollow ache in my chest growing with each step.
Three years ago, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She’d spiraled into devastation, convinced she’d die within months, and quit her job to chase fleeting joy. She hadn't saved any money, and now we were drowning in debt, me supporting us both while juggling bills. I just hoped she’d at least enjoyed her last moments of freedom because she wasn’t going to have many more.
“I’m going to work,” I yelled from the living room.
“Alright, baby. Be safe. I love you.”
“Love you too,” I mumbled before slamming the door behind me.
The drive to Foot Locker felt endless. The days were long, dreary, spent talking to customers, arranging boxes, helping people find sneakers to hide their foot funk. It was exhausting, soul-crushing work.
After work, as I drove home, my phone buzzed with a call from John. “I put up the website, and we’re holding the auction tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Isn’t that a little soon?” I asked, turning down the music.
“Yeah, but people want you, Valentina. Very rich people.”
“Okay,” I sighed, gripping the steering wheel.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Would *you* be alright?”
“Well…” He chuckled, a sound that grated on my nerves. “If I was a virgin and people wanted to pay for me, I’d be happy.”
“I know you would.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Then don’t.”
“But my mother would die.”
“Would that be a tragedy?”
“Maybe for some people.”
“Not enough. Not even people that matter,” he snapped, a wet sound—like someone chewing—filtering through the phone line.
I sighed, staring at my phone as if it were him. “She practically begged me to do this. She doesn’t want to die.”
“Neither do prisoners.”
“She’s not a prisoner.”
“You keep telling me that, but I don’t believe you. I’m sure the woman’s correctional facility is missing someone.”
I laughed, a bitter sound. “Whatever. I gotta go.” I pulled into my driveway, cutting off his reply.
“Alright, see you later.”
“Bye.” I hung up, walked inside, and checked on my mother. She was already asleep. I picked up her bowl of untouched soup. She hadn't even eaten it.
I washed it off and put it in the dishwasher. Then I went to take a shower, twisting my hair into a braid, pulling my bonnet over my head. I tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come.
I can’t believe people want me so badly. Hosting an auction already… it’s insane. They might not even want me, though. They’ll say I’m ugly, or too fat, or… they’ll come up with something. I’m not excited for tomorrow. I wanted to fall in love with someone, to have sex when *I* was ready. But I’m not ready yet. Not even close.