Chapter 4: Glass and Whiskey

This year was the poorest and hardest of my life.

I was living out of a two-bedroom walk-up with peeling linoleum floors, bouncing from shift to shift, always checking the balance on my prepaid debit card. Every dollar counted. Every day was a hustle.

I worked desperately to earn money, wanting my child to have the best medicine so he wouldn’t suffer so much.

Some nights, I’d sleep in a chair next to his hospital bed, clutching his little hand, counting every slow, steady breath, praying I could hold out one more day.

For money, I shamelessly went to reunions to borrow from people, or worked at bars as a cocktail waitress, drinking until my stomach bled.

I’d mastered the art of small talk, learned to laugh at strangers’ jokes. Sometimes, I’d catch my reflection behind the bar and hardly recognize the woman staring back.

I thought this would probably be the last time I ever saw Derek.

I told myself that was a good thing. It was safer that way. Less painful.

Until a few days later, that girl named Lillian came to find me.

She walked into my life like she owned it, all gloss and sweetness and the faint scent of expensive perfume. I knew right away who she was.

Lillian had probably heard people say she looked a lot like me, and wanted to meet me.

She came to the bar with a few friends, called me by name, saying she wanted to see me.

A girl asked, "You’re Natalie? Derek’s first love?"

Her eyes were full of disdain, looking at my heavy makeup as if I was truly filthy.

I clenched my fists, held back my temper, not wanting to cause trouble, and just asked if they wanted to drink.

I was tired, my feet ached from hours in cheap heels. If they didn’t want to drink, then don’t waste my time making money.

That girl probably thought I wasn’t showing her respect, and shouted at me, "What’s with your attitude? I’m talking to you, can’t you hear? How dare you!"

The sticky floor smelled like spilled beer and cheap perfume, neon signs buzzing overhead. She pointed at a bottle of whiskey and said, "Hey, Natalie, you want cash so bad? Down this bottle and I’ll Venmo you thirty grand. Right now."

Drinking that bottle would probably put me in the hospital.

Lillian pretended to be a little anxious, persuading the girl, "Didn’t we agree just to look and not make things hard for Natalie?"

"People say she’s good at seducing men and told me to be careful—even Derek said I’m too naive, afraid she’d bully me. But I’m fine."

The words hung in the air, pointed and deliberate. I quietly listened to Lillian, and understood—she was telling me how much Derek liked her, and how much he hated me.

I smiled, didn’t speak, just asked her friend, "So if I drink the bottle, you’ll give me $30,000, right?"

Then I picked up the bottle and started drinking.

The whiskey burned my throat, my eyes watered. Everyone was stunned. They didn’t expect that, for money, I really didn’t care about my life.

Lillian pulled my hand, gently persuading, "Natalie, how can you ruin yourself like this for money?"

She lowered her voice, giving me that pitying look. "As women, we should know better. I didn’t want to say it, afraid you’d be sad, but do you know, Derek hates women like you the most..."

I finished the bottle, endured the stabbing pain in my stomach, interrupted her, and asked, "Where’s the money?"

My voice was harsh. I didn’t care about dignity anymore. "What Derek likes or hates has nothing to do with me. I just want the $30,000 you promised."

Lillian frowned, looked at me with disappointment, and said softly, "Natalie, honestly, that money means nothing to me. I could give it to anyone, but I just can’t give it to you."

She let her friends giggle. "You can blame me, but it’s for your own good. I can’t watch you keep falling..."

Her friend pushed me, laughing, "I was just messing with you. I’m not giving you the money, what can you do?"

I sneered along with her, then raised my hand and smashed the bottle hard. Someone gasped, a glass dropped, and suddenly everyone was watching, phones raised. The flying glass shards cut Lillian’s leg and drew blood.

The bar fell silent. Lillian’s tears fell instantly. The women who had been noisy moments ago were silent.

The next moment, the private room door opened. Derek stood at the door, looking at me coldly.

He looked like a storm about to break—broad shoulders blocking the doorway, his gaze locked on mine.

I froze, not daring to meet his eyes.

With heavy makeup, making money by drinking with men and coaxing them, Derek saw me like this.

A wave of shame crashed through me. I kept my chin up, pretending not to care, but inside, I was sinking.

Actually, I wasn’t afraid of others looking down on me. I just didn’t want Derek to know how wretched I was.

But in the end, even this small wish couldn’t come true.

I could only try my best to pretend not to care, forcing myself to look up, watching Derek reach out to hold Lillian in his arms, gently wiping her tears.

She clung to him, looking back at me with a triumphant little smile, like she’d won some secret war.

Then, word by word, he asked me, "Natalie, who are you bullying in front of me?"

"You want money? Fine, apologize first."

His tone was clipped, his anger barely contained. Watching Derek protect Lillian, I remembered long ago, he used to protect me like this.

I knew Derek wanted me to please Lillian.

It didn’t matter. For money, I could do anything.

Lillian hid in Derek’s arms, secretly smiling at me.

She looked like she belonged there—safe, cherished. I was just the ghost of his past mistakes.

I looked at the wound on her leg, picked up a piece of broken glass, and cut myself hard.

Blood welled up, hot and bright. My hand trembled, but my voice was steady. Then I stretched out my bleeding hand and calmly said to Derek, "Give it to me, $30,000."

Derek looked at me, and suddenly his eyes turned red.

He looked torn—anger, pain, and something I couldn’t name flickered across his face.

Lillian saw Derek’s expression, her smile froze. She took out a credit card, put it in my hand, and said gently, "Natalie, I’m giving you money today, not because I owe you, but because I don’t want to make a scene over a little money like you."

She held it out like an olive branch, but her eyes told a different story. I couldn’t be bothered to watch her act noble. I took the money and was about to leave, but Derek grabbed me.

He called my name, gritting his teeth, "Natalie, doesn’t it hurt? Will you die if you have no money?"

His voice cracked, almost pleading. He frowned tightly, as if he felt sorry for me.

I shook off his hand, turned back, and sneered, "I’ve always been a woman who loves money, Derek, didn’t you know?"

I looked him straight in the eye, daring him to judge me. "Mind your own business, and your woman too. Don’t come bother me again."

I slammed the car door behind me, not caring that the whole parking lot was watching. For the first time, I wondered if I’d finally made him hate me for real.