Free The Blue Room Vol. 5 by Kailin Gow

“I'll be fine on my own. I
feel a lot less sick than I used to; the experimental treatment your father's
been paying for is really helping me physically. I just hate to think of being
a burden to you.”
                “You
could never be a burden,” I insist. Now, more than ever, seeing how much my
mother has sacrificed for me makes me realize the depths of my love for her.
She'd been offered a million dollars not to have the baby she hadn't even
planned, even wanted. A million dollars or a life in poverty, degradation, and
fear. And yet she'd chosen life. Chosen me. What could I ever do to make that
sacrifice worth it?
                Deep
down, fear gnaws at my innards. If my mother found out what I really did for a
living, who I really was, would she still be happy with the choice she'd made?
Or would she realize that she'd given up her whole life to give birth to a
prostitute?
                Every
mother's dream , I think grimly.
                I
look at that photograph of me and Rita together. We look so similar, I think.
We could even be sisters. The same wide smiles as we hold up our ornaments:
decorating our little Christmas tree. Those were the good times, I sigh. When
we were eating cheap fast food, enjoying life. Not like it was when things were
complicated. Not like now.
                But
as I stare at the photographs, I start to wonder about something. A hunch comes
over me.
                Rita,
Rita, I whisper to myself. Where can I find you?
                I
say goodbye to my mother, wrapping her in a tight embrace that's practically a
bear hug.
                “Careful!”
My mother laughs. “I'm more likely to get crushed to death by you than fall
vicitm to any of those nasty Tennenbaums.” But I know she's only doing her best
to make light of a terrible situation. She's just as scared as I am, deep down.
                It's
so hard saying goodbye to her.
                But
I have to go back to the Blue Room. Not just to work – if I'm paying my
mother's rent again I have to earn a salary – but also to find Rita. For the
first time in a long time, I'm starting to think I might have a lead.
                When
I return to California, I do not go to the Blue Room. Not at first. Instead, I
head straight to Malibu, where I go back to the rehab clinic.
                I
have an idea.
                Last
time I was there, I asked for Rita Malone. But what if Rita used a false name –
disguising her identity just the way my mother had to for so many years?
                So
instead of asking for Rita, I show the woman there a photo.
                “Have
you seen this girl?” I ask. “I've been told she was here. But she was using an
alias – I don't know what name she checked in under.”
                The
woman behind the counter takes the photo. A shadow falls over her face. “es...”
she says. “I recognize this girl...I think. Someone like her came in a few
months ago.”
                My
heart leaps.
                “She
was so bruised and banged up, though, I'm not sure it was her. Her face wasn't
exactly in pristine condition. But I think there's a chance – yes, yes – that
girl did come in a while ago.”
                “Can
I see her?” I'm tripping over my own words. “Please, I need to see her. It's
really important. I've been looking for her for a long time.”
                I
lean over the counter to look into the woman's eyes, trying to make her
understand how important it is that I talk to Rita: and that I talk to her now.
                But
she isn't smiling.
                “Sorry,”
she says. “I wish I could help you, really I do. But the girl I'm talking about
died a few days ago.”
                For
a second I don't understand what she's saying. Sounds are