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My shallow, rapid breathing was all I could hear, despite the commotion behind the cheap velvet curtain I stood next to. I was in a daze, in a dark swirling void. I despised what I was doing, yet I HAD to do it.
I had to dance for my school fees.
I hated it when every night, I had to come to the same shady hot pot place in the city.
I hated it when I wore my outrageously skimpy dance costume that was no more that a scrap of fabric and beads.
I hated it when I had to apply the thick make-up to my face that made it unbearably itchy and rough after I had scrubbed it off.
I wished this would end. But for school, for the freedom of learning, I was ready to do anything for it. This was really pushing my limit.
A tear threatened to roll down my cheek. I brushed it away, careful not to smudge my make-up. This happened every time I stood here. But I knew my duty and had to stay strong.
A gruff voice snapped me out of my thoughts, “Little sister. Go out now and make my customers happy.” I slowly lifted my head and saw my boss. He was a thin short man with bright, evil eyes and was incredibly stingy and was constantly smoking, leaving him practically oozing with smells of cigarettes. I suppressed a scowl and muttered, “Yes, sir.”
“Now that’s a good girl,” he grinned, showing his nicotine stained teeth and blowing another puff of cigarette gas on me.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, composed myself and stepped out onto the familiar stage. It was made of cheap wood and the surface was horribly uneven, making it easy for anyone to trip and fall. And gazing intently at the stage were dozens of people sitting around tables, eating hot pot. I wrinkled my nose. Cigarette fumes mixed with smells of soup and cooked food drifted in the air. The music started and my body knew exactly what to do. My arms waved gracefully in the air and my legs carried me around the stage but inside, I was dead. I had no passion every time I danced on this stage. I moved robotically and my mind went blank. Nothing went through my mind now.
Every minute seemed to drag on forever and I seemed like a whole hour had passed until I did my final curtsy. A half-hearted applause and a few coins and dollar notes were thrown at my feet. I sighed, devastated but swiftly gathered it up anyway. My education depended on this. I gladly hurried into the curtains and was met by my boss. He had a fresh new cigarette in his mouth, “Not bad, little sister.” He slapped eight one hundred dollar notes into my hand, “There you go.” I nodded and immediately started to scrub my make up off with the back of my hand and grabbed my normal clothes. I wanted to get out of this place a fast as possible.
“I’m home, Mother,” I called into the small apartment I shared with my mom and baby brother. I entered our tiny sitting room. My mother was sitting on the purple two-seater sofa with my baby brother, Ming Wen, in her lap. The leather had countless holes in it, the springs were missing and it smelled of sweaty feet. In front of the sofa was a small foldable table, the only table we had in the apartment. We used it to eat dinner and I used it to write on.
She was drinking, again, “Well?” Her words were slurred, “How much?”
“800 hundred, as usual,” I replied.
Mother took another swig of her cheap wine, “Good, good. Give it to me.”
“No!” I protested, clutching the wad of money closer to me. Mother laid Ming Wen on the couch, stood up and leaned close to me. I could see every feature on her face. Her skin had lost its youthful shine and was grey and baggy. Her formerly bright eyes were unfocused and her lips were puckered and wet from her drink. Mother’s matted and once glossy hair dangled down to her waist, she hadn’t washed or combed it in weeks and she smelled strongly of cheap rice wine. “Your father might be coming back tonight, I want to have a few drinks with him.”
My heart twisted when I heard that, Mother always used that excuse but she and I knew Father was never coming back. I have never even seen him before. I heard Mother moaning about him sometimes, lounging on the couch with a bottle of wine in her hand but I could never seem to understand what she was talking about. One night he would be on a business trip to Shanghai and the other would be in the army. I suspected that she wasn’t even married. And I knew whenever I gave her money, she would buy a new bottle of wine for herself and it would be gone the next morning.
“Mother, stop drinking,” I begged softly. “Don’t ruin yourself.”
“RUIN MYSELF?” she suddenly screamed at me. “I did not ruin myself, Mei Yun! Your stupid father did! He left me! He’s the one to blame!” She slapped my across my cheek. “Give me the money, Mei Yun.” I knew this was happening. I had already changed one of the one hundred dollar notes into five 20-dollar notes. I unwillingly gave one 20-dollar note to her, “Here Mother, it’s enough to buy you two bottles of wine. One for you and one for Father.” We were still pretending that Father was coming back.
“Foolish girl, you should give me more,” Mother snarled but I could see she was pleased. “Go to your room and take your brother with you.” She smiled a horrible, drunken smile at me.
I didn’t say a word and scooped up Ming Wen, I was about to enter my room when I said the usual, “Good night, Mother.” But there was no reply, I turned my head and saw Mother already contently pouring herself another large cup of wine.
Tears threatened to fall the second time tonight.
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