Page 7 of Coerced

Because as though my mom’s cancer diagnosis wasn’t enough to contend with, we had something else fall into our laps.

The sales at the store had taken a nosedive. It wasn’t an abrupt change, but we certainly felt the pinch. Slowly, with each week that passed, fewer and fewer individuals walkedthrough our doors. And before we knew it, sales had fallen off a cliff.

While we didn’t have any concrete proof as to what had caused the decline, we assumed it was a combination of two things. We’d needed to adjust the hours we were open on certain days when Mom was receiving treatment. It was already difficult enough that she was facing this battle; we didn’t want her doing it alone simply because money was such a necessity at this point.

But the other reason we likely saw the sales fall off was because of a new big box store that had opened in town. It offered more of a selection, often had cheaper prices, and was always open.

We couldn’t compete.

And when it became apparent that folks in town could get everything that they’d used to get from usandtheir groceries from the other store, we had to face reality.

It was only a matter of time before our front door stopped opening with loyal customers. Because loyalty would only go so far in a situation like this. Times were tough for everyone—the battle my family was fighting wasn’t any worse than the next family’s war. We all had it rough and needed to do what was necessary to survive.

Unfortunately, for us, it meant getting to this point.

Dad was going to have to make the call when he got home from work.

With very little equity left in the house, he had to put it up for sale. The equity wouldn’t be enough to cover us through Mom’s treatment and recovery, but it would be enough to get us set up in an apartment with a small buffer. Jasmine and I had both gotten side jobs to help offset some of our day-to-day expenses, but we’d never beable to do enough with the hours we were working to be able to cover the costs of the house and survival.

Whenever I took a step back and reminded myself of where exactly we were, the logical part of my brain understood that Dad’s plan was the best option for us. But there was the emotional component to all of this.

Mom was battling cancer, and we had no choice but to move her from the home she loved and raised her family in just so we could afford to put food on the table—a table we might be forced to sell otherwise. We’d already sold just about everything else.

Between the pleading look in my father’s eyes and the weight of guilt I felt over the words he’d said—Mom and Jasmine needed me here—my shoulders fell in defeat. “Okay, Dad. I’ll stay here.”

He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed my cheek. “We’ll figure it out, Aria. One way or another, I’m not going to let this family down.”

I hugged him back. “I know. We’ll see you later, Dad.”

With that, he released his hold on me, stepped back, and held my gaze for a few beats longer than normal. He was out the door in a flash.

Then I got to work on preparing breakfast for my mom and sister.

One year ago, it became clear that a cancer diagnosis in a family impacted everyone differently. Mom openly shared her struggle, reacting to the pain, treatments, and inability to do everything she always used to do. Dad had mostly returned to his typical routine, but there was a dark cloud hanging over him all the time now. He’d lost weight, too. The most productive thing my sister did was get a part-time job. She was caught up in her feelingsabout Mom having cancer and leaned heavily into them. The one area where she excelled was in taking care of Mom. After surgery, she sat with her and helped to physically care for her. And for me, it was all about necessity. I did whatever needed to be done—cooking, cleaning, laundry. I maintained the house, worked all the extra hours I could at my job as a server, and handled all the grocery shopping or appointment scheduling.

I finished getting breakfast ready and carried the plates into the living room. Mom and Jazzy were sitting on the couch, which meant Mom was having a good day. On her bad days, she typically didn’t leave the confines of her bed. No matter where she was, my sister always joined her.

“Thanks, Aria,” Mom said when I handed her the plate.

“You’re welcome.”

When Jasmine took the other plate, she murmured, “It breaks my heart that this might be one of the last times we get to eat breakfast in this house.”

The last thing I wanted to do was dwell on any more negativity. Jazzy seemed content to live in it, no doubt the reason she was always so emotional.

“It is what it is, Jaz. It’s not ideal, but we have to do what’s best for everyone in this situation,” I reasoned.

“How are we going to leave? This is home.”

I shook my head, feeling disappointed. Not with Jazzy, but with the situation. “It’s a house. Yes, we’ve grown up here, but this isn’t our reality any longer. All that matters is that we stick together, wherever we go.”

“Aria’s right,” Mom said. “This is all my fault. I hate that I’m the reason we’re in this situation, but we don’thave any other choice. If we don’t do something, we’ll lose the house completely. It’s better to get out while we can.”

“It’s not your fault, Mom. You didn’t ask to get sick.”

She offered a slight nod in return. “I know, but I can’t help feeling the way I do. I feel responsible for putting my family in this situation.”

“And we’re going to get out of it together,” I assured her. “We’re going to be fine.”