Emma Kwok
Media Studies / Anthropology / Folklore
More Than Anything in the World
“Pythons are ambush predators,” the voice from the radio said at 9:30 p.m., just as Cass turned into the driveway. “They grab and bind their prey until it asphyx—”
​
Cass switched the engine off. She crept into her house, left her shoes and backpack at the door, and passed though the main room to the darkened hall. There, the door on the right led to her parents’ room; the one on the left, hers and Leena’s. Cass peeked in through the latter. Her daughter lay fast asleep, shaded pink by her Hello Kitty night light.
​
Cass smiled and tiptoed back to the main room. She retrieved her laptop from her backpack and glanced at her watch. Two hours to finish that human resources essay. But first, a break. Cass opened her email and started scanning the page for her favorite newsletter, "Herpetology Today." The subscription was a relic from when she still dreamed of being a vet. A different message caught her eye first, though: Night School Tuition Increases. The words seemed to slide off the screen and wrap around her chest—a familiar feeling by now. It had been there seven years ago, when Cass first cradled Leena in her sweat-slicked arms beneath glaring LEDs. It had bit apart its shell even earlier, when Cass was a freshman sitting in a dorm room, willing the second line on her pregnancy test to disappear.
“Wow, thirty-six unread emails.”
​
A bolt of electricity ran across Cass’ neck. She scrolled down, hiding the announcement. “Yeah, I really need to check this more,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder to see her mom in crinkled flannels, holding a mug.
​
“Water.” The older woman raised the cup. “Studying late again?”
​
“Just for a bit. Once I graduate and start earning more, I’ll sleep like a queen. And you’ll be staying in my house.”
​
Her mom smiled tightly and squeezed Cass’ shoulder. “Without a doubt.”
​
The next morning, Cass laid out clothes for Leena and prepared her lunchbox. As a final touch, she added a cookie from work—a snickerdoodle: the first-grader’s favorite. Meanwhile, Leena and her grandparents ate breakfast. Before she left for the bakery, where she’d manned the front counter for the past five months, Cass kissed each of them on the cheek.
​
“Have a good day at school, kiddo,” she winked at Leena.
​
During the last half hour of Cass’ shift, the assistant manager, Lisa, approached, smiling warmly. She’d noticed that Cass had arrived early again. She always worked so hard. Maybe today she could go home a little earlier as well.
​
Cass took the offer readily and called her dad to let him know that, for the first time in weeks, she’d be the one to pick up Leena from the after-school program. He could stay home.
​
She’d been driving for twenty minutes when she smelled the smoke. Quickly, she pulled over to check under the hood of her car. As she eyed the maze of cylinders and wires, she wished she were a mechanic. She slammed the compartment shut and got back into the vehicle. She turned the key and the engine sputtered. She turned it twice more. Nothing. Her heart sank. She called her dad.
​
“Cass?”
​
“Hey, my car broke down. I can’t get Leena after all. Can you pick her up?”
​
“I’ll leave now.”
​
“Thank you. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
​
“Just breathe for me, okay? See you at home.”
​
As Cass dialed AAA for help, she thought of her daughter. Did she wait with friends after school? Did she wait alone? She thought of car repairs and then of night school, and suddenly she felt the coils around her lungs again. Their grip was tighter than before.
​
By the time the tow truck arrived and Cass left her car with the mechanic, she knew she’d be late for her first class that evening. She ran to catch the bus to campus. Hours later, on the way home, she watched riders climb in and out at each stop, and she tried not to think of the minutes slipping away or to wonder how long it would be before she could drive again. But the air inside the bus was too warm and too heavy. It was soured by bodies and breath, and it swam with Cass’ thoughts of the time she’d lose to study, to rest, and to see her family in the mornings.
​
And still, the sun rose again the next day—a Saturday. Cass was surprised when Leena shook her awake, grinning wider than she’d done in a while.
​
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” Cass laughed.
​
Her daughter beamed. “Are you ready?”
​
“Ready for?” she frowned teasingly.
​
Suddenly, Leena’s shoulders tensed. “Did you forget?”
​
Cass sobered.
​
“Leena,” she hugged the girl close. “I could never forget your birthday. Hurry and get dressed. The faster we are, the more time we’ll have at the zoo.”
​
Her daughter’s lips curved upward again, slowly. Then, she nodded and scampered to their dresser. As Cass watched Leena rummage for her favorite giraffe-print sweater, she mulled over their conversation. Today, they would have the time of their lives, she resolved.
​
After they drove to the zoo (Cass’ dad had lent her his car), the first animals Leena asked to see were the giraffes. She told Cass that when she was older, she wanted to be tall like them. Cass, meanwhile, snapped a photo of Leena next to the enclosure—framed so the towering creatures were in the background.
​
“Careful what you wish for,” Cass said. “One day, you might wake up with a long neck like theirs.” She ruffled her daughter’s sable hair.
​
“Yes.” The girl laughed. “My neck will be so long, I’ll talk to the birds.”
​
“Why not try now?” Cass squatted in front of her. “Come on, I’ll give you a piggy-back ride to the parrot section.”
​
With Leena’s little arms draped around her neck, Cass took off running. Even when she began to tire, hearing her daughter’s shrieks of joy kept her going. After the parrots, they saw the otters, caught the penguin-feeding show, and skipped to the kangaroo pen. They were eating ice cream by the reptile exhibit when the ringing started. Cass handed her cone to Leena and pulled her phone out of her pocket. It was Lisa. Suddenly, Cass’ lungs felt smaller.
​
Lisa was sorry to have interrupted Cass on one of her days off. The thing was, the girl who usually came in today had to leave early for a family emergency. They needed someone to cover for her, and Lisa thought of Cass first.
​
“Why me?” Cass glanced at Leena, who watched her with wide eyes.
​
“Well, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but our boss is planning to give a few employees a raise. You’ve been so dedicated since you began working for us. I thought you should have some extra chances to prove that to her.”
​
It was difficult to decide what to do when Leena was staring at her like a peacock tree frog. Exhaling, Cass closed her eyes to think. She thought of Leena’s birthday and their conversation that morning. She thought of her parents, her tuition, and her car. Most of all, she thought of Leena’s future. Nearly eight years ago, when Leena’s father had been too young and too scared, he’d asked Cass to lose the baby. She’d walked out of his life instead.
​
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
​
On the drive to the bakery, Leena was silent. When they arrived, Cass asked her to sit at the small table by the counter. She apologized for the umpteenth time and brought Leena a slice of cake and some paper so she could draw while she waited. Then, Cass called her dad and filled him in on the situation. She wondered, could he come by to take Leena home? He could take the car, and she would bus home after her shift. After he arrived and left with Leena, Cass noticed that her daughter hadn’t touched the cake. The coils, Cass’ constant companion, constricted.
​
When Cass returned home, she brought a whole cake with her. Her mom and dad were cooking a special dinner for Leena (spaghetti, her favorite). When he saw her, her dad covered the saucepan and took the cake from her arms. He placed it in the refrigerator and wrapped her in a hug. He smelled like basil.
​
Behind him, her mom stirred a pot of noodles.
​
“Leena’s in your room.” She smiled softly.
​
Cass tried to return the gesture. Then, she walked toward the hallway. At the door on the left, she took a deep breath.
Inside, she found Leena asleep on top of her bedding. She hadn’t taken her shoes off. The skin around her eyes was puffy and red. As Cass sat beside her, the mattress sighed.
​
“Please understand someday.” Cass’ throat was stuffed with marbles. She smoothed Leena’s hair—soft as snakeskin. “I love you more than anything in the world.”