Behind Ashes & Smoke

It was another one of those long evenings I spent at the hospital instead of being at home studying, watching my mother's strength dwindle.

Things took a turn for the worse when the head of surgery, Dr. Silver, called me out of the room.

"Amara. I'm sorry to bring you bad news, but your mother's body has rejected the transplanted organ," he explained, his eyes filled with sadness.

I sniffed and wiped away my tears. "What does that mean? Is she going to die?"

He looked at the file, then back at me. "I can't say for sure, but that's not all, Amara. The costs of the last two transplants haven't been paid yet. Until those are settled, we can't do anything more."

My stomach clenched, I could barely form the words, I felt the weight of asking the question. "How much?"

"Six hundred thousand dollars."

I felt the invisible blow hit me like an explosion, and the air in my lungs left my body.

The hissing in my ears began as tears welled up. "I... need air..." I whispered almost inaudibly as I walked past Doctor Silver.

It felt as if the walls were closing in on me to crush me, and I felt the pressure making it difficult to even breathe.

As soon as I went to the back yard of the hospital I let the air get in touch with my lungs.

It was cool like most autumn evenings in Boston and the clear sky made me forget for a moment that everything is going down the drain and there is no way out.

I reached for the small cigarette box in my used leather coat and lit one. After the first few puffs, I lost myself in the sight of the embers consuming the tobacco. and started to cry.

I sank to the ground in the same spot, even though there was a bench nearby. I smoked one cigarette after another until I ended up staring in horror into the cardboard pack I had emptied.

My tears became increasingly uncontrolled and my breathing became rapid and shallow. My vision was blurred by tears, so at first I only saw a bright outline approaching me.

Like a light in the deep darkness.

"Why are you crying, little one?" he asked me as he knelt down in front of me. He was wearing a light beige suit. He reeked of wealth and power and his appearance was impeccable and polished.

"Come, a young lady shouldn't be sitting on the ground in despair." He offered me his hand. "If you want, tell me."

I placed my hand in his and felt the warmth of his body. He smiled as he helped me up, and we sat down on the bench.

Tears were still streaming down my cheeks as he gently wiped them away. "Don't cry, little one. A pretty girl like you shouldn't drown in sorrow."

"But I am sorrowful..." I whimpered, crying even harder. "...My mother is dying, and I can't do anything to save her. I don't even have the money for the outstanding medical bills."

And suddenly I was crying my heart out to a total stranger I didn’t know. But he listened to me, came off as attentive and didn’t look away once.

He was so calm and collected, leaning back slightly and offering me a cigarette while lighting one for himself.

"I understand. It must be hard, so young and already with so many worries," he said softly as his gaze met mine, and in a twisted way, he made me feel understood.

He finished his cigarette and looked at me with a way that was both dark and gentle.

"You seem like a bright young girl to me, and I'm sure you have dreams you'd fulfill if you could, am I right?"

"But dreams are just fantasies or wishful thinking that not everyone can have," I murmured, still dazed from the pain.

A soft laugh escaped his lips. "If you want, I can help you. Pay your mother's medical bills, give you enough money to study, to do what you want, Amara. What do you think?"

“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.” I said in an unsure tone and yet his posture showed no sign of uncertainty. 

Almost as if he knew I was going to bite.

And he began to gently stroke my hair with his index finger while his dark blue eyes held me spellbound.

"Because everyone has a price, and I'm offering you a future without financial worries and without pain. 50 million, and the only thing I need from you is that you start a small fire at a certain time in a certain place."

I felt my heart dropping at his sentence and started to laugh desperately. "You can't be serious."

But his appearance showed no trace of joking. It rather hardened. And instead of answering, he rummaged in his pocket and handed me a picture. 

„A trail of gasoline will lead all the way to the back entrance of the house, so all you need to do is light a cigarette and wait until this boy enters. Then drop the cigarette and come to me with the video evidence, and I'll give you your money. The rest is on me."

I didn't react at first, I just stared at this boy. His smile lit up the entire room. The first thing that happened was one of my tears, landing right on the grinning face of the stranger in the picture.

"Who is he?" I asked softly, almost silently, my gaze never leaving the image.

He laughed. "Believe me, darling, when I tell you that you'd rather not trouble yourself with questions like these."

Then I watched as he rummaged in his inside pocket for a pen and wrote an address on the back of the picture.

"Tomorrow evening. 9:30 p.m. In the garden," he explained calmly, looking at me as he handed me the picture. "Afterwards, we'll meet here again, and in the end, your beloved mother will be well and able to see you at college, Amara."

I was like stepping away, couldn't even answer. He put the photo in my hand, stood up and walked with an echoing laugh.

My heart was beating so damn fast and the air to breathe stayed away, it was as if extinguished. I stared desperately at the photo and the tears flowed down my cheeks.

I felt the salty drops stick to my lips and everything became so unbearably heavy around me.

And when it started to rain, followed by thunder and lightning, it was like a reflection of the storm inside me. Of the hopelessness and the awareness that I had lost, no matter which path I ultimately chose.