Dare to Love

THE FIRST STUNT

Hastily saying goodbye to that jerk, you rush back to your home, only to find Kelly there waiting for you in the living room

(Finally)

Ray: What happened?

Kelly: Your mother's been throwing up. Knowing you are at an interview, she called me to ask if I have any medicine to make it better.

Ray: Is she okay?

Kelly: She said she's fine, but it sounded rather serious to me.

Ray: Thank you, Kelly, you really help me a lot.

Ray: Mom? I am home.

You spot your mom watching her game shows as always.

(She's so much thinner than she used to be ever since she's diagnosed with cancer and her skin is so fragile.)

Ray: Mom? What happened? I heard you were throwing up.

Mother: Ah, she told you? It's actually nothing to worry about. Nausea has already subsided.

She smiles as always, but you know her too well to be fooled by that.

Mother: Really, I am fine.

(If she's already in pain, I better not worry her further.)

Ray: You don't have to put on a tough front for me, mom. I am your daughter and I owe you everything I have to you

Mother: How was your interview?

Ray: Oh, Great! I actually landed that high-paying job I applied for!

Mother: Oh, that's wonderful news!

She still seems weak. I must gather money soon.

Ray: You know it's going to get better, right? It will, once we get you that treatment.

Mother: That treatment. It's nothing but a fantasy. There's no way we can pay for it.

Ray: Don't lose hope, Mom. I have a good feeling about this. Now that I have got this job, I think there's a chance we will be able to afford that treatment.

(Gosh, I hate lying to her. I have been never any good at it either.)

Mother: Do you know how much that sort of therapy costs? Insurance won't cut it.

Ray: Hmm. It doesn't matter. I will make sure we can afford it. Anyway, what did the doctor tell you the last time we went in to see him? Hmm?

Ray: He told you not to worry about things you can't control. The more you think about the money and the insurance, the worse you are going to feel.

Mother: You sound like a woo-woo, hippy-dippy fruitcake. What are you doing to eat this money by the way?

Ray: What?

Mother: What sort of position offers you enough money to pay for me to go to a fancy treatment center? You are twenty-two and the only work experience you have is being a personal assistant.

(OMG....)

Ray: It's nothing illegal and it's nothing to be ashamed of. Just trust me a little. Okay?

Mother: I want to trust you. I do. But I can't let you degrade yourself or do anything you will regret later. Not for me. I am your mother. I should be the one taking risks for you, making sacrifices for you.