The Weight of a Grain of Rice

My birth parents were alive, but I grew up without a mom or dad.

The year I turned five, my birth parents, desperate for a son, handed me over to my uncle.

From that day on, my birth mother told me, Don't call us Mom and Dad anymore. Your uncle and aunt are your parents now.

But Aunt Betty cut in sharply, "You didn't come from me, don't call me that!"

Just like that, at five years old, I became a child without no parents.

On what should have been my birthday, my birth parents accepted five hundred dollars and were about to send me away to a family with a mentally disabled son.

Thankfully, Uncle Hank showed up in the dead of night, shielding me with his body.

"We've already got two boys at home," he said firmly. "Let Third come live with us. She'll be our daughter."

Back then, I didn't even have a proper name.

Like every third daughter in our rural town, I was simply called "Third"

Later, Aunt Betty never let me forget it, "If it weren't for your uncle, you'd be married off to that poor boy by now!"

"You'd better grow up and take care of your uncle, you hear me?"

It was Uncle Hank who asked an elder in the village to give me a proper name, Lily Johnson.

He said he wanted me to shine like a radiant pearlbut honestly, I always felt more like an ordinary stone.

Uncle Hank was a kind man, but he was always busy.

He drove his old tractor from before sunrise until late, traveling between villages to thresh grain.

He'd leave before sunrise, sometimes not stumbling home until nine or ten at night.

Aunt Betty was tough, her face often tight with frustration.

Mike, the oldest at thirteen, was wrapped up in his teenage rebellion and barely noticed I existed.

Ben, who was two years older than me, took every chance to pull my hair, tug at my clothes, and once even slipped a dead mouse under my blanket

I lived for rainy days. That meant Uncle stayed home.

Only when he was there did it feel like I had a family.

Not long after I arrived, Uncle Hank enrolled me in kindergarten.

Aunt Betty's face fell like a dropped pie.

"You bring her home, feed her, fine! But now you're throwing money away on school? Since when did we have money to burn?"

Uncle forced a smile. "The mayor says all children have to go now. It's the law."

Aunt Betty muttered under her breath but didn't argue further.

I stood frozen, wringing my hands, wishing I could disappear.

Later, Uncle pulled me aside. "Alright now, don't say these things in front of Lily."

Aunt Betty muttered under her breath but didn't argue further.

I stood frozen, wringing my hands, wishing I could disappear.

Uncle pulled me aside, his voice gentle. "Your Aunt Betty, she's got a sharp tongue, but her heart's not bad, Lily. Be a good girl, help her out when you can. She'll come around."

So I tried.

After school, while Ben ran off with his buddies to play marbles or trade cards.

I rushed home to gather pigweed from the ditches.

You wouldn't believe it now, but water celery selling for ten bucks a pound? Back then, it grew wild along the ditches.

Even the pigs got sick of it.

After cutting pigweed, I'd help cook and prep vegetables so Aunt Betty could just stir-fry when she got home.

Weekends meant washing clothes for the whole family.

The laundry bucket was half as tall as I was.

Life on the farm was relentless.

Planting potatoes, harvesting peanuts, sowing rice, weeding, sprayingthe work never ended

Uncle Hank was always away, so most of it fell on Aunt Betty.

She'd come home exhaustedd, only to face Mike's backtalk and Ben's mischief.

Looking back now, her bad temper makes perfect sense.

I was a heavy sleeper, and often, Uncle would get home after I'd gone to bed.

In the morning, I'd slide my hand under the pillowand there it'd be.

A lollipop, a box of candy dots, a packet of sour powder

These were Uncle Hank's secret gifts, just for me.

Then one morning, I felt under the pillowand found nothing.

Just as disappointment washed over me, Aunt Betty pushed the door open, her face like a thunderous, holding a lollipop.

"Where did you get the money for this? Did you steal?"

I pressed my lips together and stayed silent. My silence only made her angerier.

"Steal a penny as a child, steal a fortune as an adult!"

"I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget!"

She grabbed the broom and began striking me with the handle.

Just then, Mikeappeared in the doorway, finished with breakfast and heading to school.

His voice, cracking with adolescence, dripped with annoyance. "Are you stupid? Dad gave you that. Why don't you just say so?"

That night, I heard Aunt Betty crying softly in their room.

"All these years I've been with you, you've never got so much as a candy bar Now you're spoiling her."

Uncle's voice was soft, trying to calm her. "Everything I earn goes straight to you. You buy whatever you want, I never say a word"

"It's not the same!"

"Alright, keep your voice down. We shouldn't let the kids hear us arguing."

The voices next door faded. A little while later, Uncle gently pushed my door open.

I choked back a sob. "Uncle, please don't buy me snacks anymore."

He whispered, "Grown-ups argue sometimes. It has nothing to do with you. Go to sleep."

After that, Uncle started bringing back twice the treats.

One for me, and one for Aunt Betty.

Ben complained, "What about me?"

Uncle gave him a light swat. "You're a boy! Boys don't need snacks!"

Aunt Betty sniffed, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Well, aren't I the lucky one? Getting treats thanks to my niece."

But later, I saw her sitting with the other women in the neighborhood women, sucking on that lollipop, her face transformed.

Beaming, she'd say, "My Hank still treats me like I'm his sweetheart, always buying me candy. It's such a waste of money, isn't he silly?"

Over a year later, my birth mother finally got her wish, a baby boy.

Uncle, Aunt Betty, and I went for the full-month celebration.

My birth parents' place was practically bare, having been fined heavily by the family planning authorities, even the chairs we sat on were borrowed.

But her face glowed with triumph. "I finally have my son! Let's see who dares to gossip about me now!"

The baby was named, David Smith.

He was scrawny, slightly yellow, with fine hair on his facehe looked like a little monkey.

I didn't understand why everyone was fawning over how "adorable" he was.

Almost without thinking, I called out, "Mom."

My birth mother's smile vanished instantly. "Don't call me that! You uncle and aunt are your parents now, understand?"

Aunt Betty gave a tight, humorless smile. "She didn't come from me, so don't call me Mom either."

So who exactly were my parents?

Finally, Uncle Hank patted my back. "Go play with your sisters."

Guests were served sweet rice pudding with eggs.

Everyone received a bowl with two eggs floating in it.

My bowl? Just sweet, watery broth.

Like so many times before, my birth mother said, "We're short on eggs. Besides, too many eggs aren't good for a child."

"The fire in the kitchen stove's dying down. Go add some more wood."

Something felt wrong in that moment, but I couldn't quite grasp what it was.

Little me didn't know how to stand up to parentsor to the people who were supposed to be my parents.

Later, Aunt Betty dragged me out of the sweltering kitchen, my face dripping with sweat.

She pinched my ear. "We bought you a new dress specially for today, and here you're playing with fire in the kitchen!"

"Can't you even behave properly as a guest!"

Her voice carried. My birth mother hurried over, looking flustered.

"I asked Lily to tend the fire."

Aunt Betty released my ear, her expression flat.

"Oh. Well then, she's your daughter. Maybe you should keep her here to stoke your fires forever."

Birth Mom's face tightened. "I just needed a hand! She's your girl now, I wouldn't take her back!"

They went back and forth, pushing me between them like an unwanted package.

Finally, my birth father showed up.

He scowled. "If you won't take her, I'll just send her to the Millers."

"Get five hundred bucks, buy little David some formula."

On the ride home, Aunt Betty laid into me,

"So much for blood being thicker than water, huh? They wouldn't even give you an egg, but you were happy to slave away for them."

" You can be as good as you wantthey still tossed you out like trash."

"Three daughters, and you're the one they didn't want. Tsk tsk"

I sat on the bike's crossbar. The hot summer wind whipped into my eyes, making them sting and water.

Making them sting and water.

From that day on, I had an Uncle and Aunt, I had relatives.

But I had no Mom and Dad.

Aunt Betty was usually tolerable, but when school enrollment time came around, her temper would flare.

Compulsory education was the law, but school still cost money.

Putting three kids through school was a huge burden for rural families.

Uncle Hank always had to work hard to convince her to let me continue my education.

Every summer, my birth parents invited me to stay with them.

I wanted to refuse, but Uncle would say, "They're your parents. They miss youthat's why they ask."

Their house had one rickety ceiling fan. Summer was brutal.

The whole family slept on bamboo mats on the concrete floor.

I slept on the edge, barely catching a breeze, surrounded by the smell of stale sweat.

They didn't miss me.

The summer harvest meant back-breaking work, and I was free labor.

To outsiders, they put on a show, "Lily's our guestwe can't have her working the fields!"

True, I didn't haul rice.

But I washed clothes, cooked meals, fed the pigs, and spread grain to dry in the sun.

Once the harvest was over, they couldn't get rid of me fast enough. "You can't stay too long, your parents might get upset."

Every time I returned, Aunt Betty would needle me for weeks afterward.

Time flew. The summer after fourth grade, Mike had graduated from trade school and started working at a factory.

The rice in the fields turned golden, heavy heads bowed low.

My birth mother showed up bright and early on her bicycle.

"Lily's on summer break. I'm taking her to my place for a few days."

Aunt Betty's expression darkened instantly. Uncle, ever the peacemaker, smiled gently. "Well, Lily, why don't you go pack a few things."

My birth mother waved a dismissive hand."No need! Her sisters have plenty of clothes she can borrow."

As soon as Uncle and Aunt stepped away, Birth Mom grabbed my arm, her voice dropping to a whisper, "If you stay here, your aunt'll just put you to work in the fields. Come with meyou can stay inside where it's cool."

Just then, Aunt Betty returned from the kitchen with two glasses of iced tea, her eyes narrowing as she witnessed the scene.

I yanked my arm back, my voice clear and firm. "I don't want to go! Mike's working now, so there's less help at home. I'm staying to help out this year!"

"You ungrateful child!" Birth Mom hissed, her grip tightening on my arm. "Do you really think I'd do anything to hurt you?"

Aunt Betty strode over, pulling me behind her. "If Lily doesn't want to go, then don't force her. She can visit during next break."

That summer, I worked alongside Aunt Betty harvesting rice in the sweltering heat.

Neighbors stared and whispered. "Well, look at that! Lily Johnson working the fields!"

Aunt Betty boomed back, loud enough for all to hear, "I've fed her all these years! The least she can do is lend a hand!"

After that summer, I never spent another vacation with my birth parents.

Aunt Betty might not have been warm, but every Chrismas, she bought me new clothesunlike my birth parents. During those five years, I only ever worn my older sisters' worn-out hand-me-downs.

Even my underwear was full of holes, and I never got new ones.

I knew exactly who treated me well.

The year I graduated elementary school, Ben tested into a prestigious high school in the city.

Mike sent two thousand dollars home for Ben's tuition.

He worked hard at the factory, that money wasn't easy to come by.

He turned twenty that year, and Aunt Betty started fretting about finding him a wife.

Mike always said not to rush.

Late at night, I'd hear her crying to Uncle. "What do we have? Nothing! Two kids still in school Who'd marry into this? Will he be alone forever?"

Uncle would try to comfort her. "He's young. I wasn't married till twenty-three."

"Young? His classmates have two kids already!"

Ben boarded at the high school during the week.

He'd matured, becoming more serious and focused.

It was the peak of the "emo" phase back then.

After school, crowds of teenagers with dyed hair, facial piercings, and heavy black eyeliner would loiter near the campus.

I always made sure to avoid them.

But on the last day before fall break, I stayed late to finish cleaning duties. As I hurried home, the leader of that groupa girl with harshly lined eyesstepped directly into my path.

She popped her gum, then yanked hard on my braid. "Got any money on you?"

I shook my head vigorously.

"Then we'll just cut off this braid. Should be worth fetch a few bucks at least."

As she started dragging me towards a nearby barbershop, a loud, firm voice cut through.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Ben skidded to a halt on his bicycle, kicking up a cloud of dust.

He fixed the girl with a hard stare. "Let my sister go. Now!"

On the ride home, he lectured me the entire way. "You have to fight back! Scream! Kick them! Don't just stand there and let them push you around"

He trailed off halfway through his rant, then sighed heavily. "Ah, never mind. Better they take a braid than actually hurt. Hair will grow back."

The next day, he took me to meet an old classmate of hisa stout guy covered in tattoos, with hair bleached nearly white.

He was a familiar presence around our school grounds.

After that, even when I walked right past their usual spot, no one so much as looked my way.

By the time I reached ninth grade, the neighborhood women had started talking about me in a new way,

"Lily's almost finished with junior high."

"Your uncle and aunt raised you, made so many sacrifices. You'd better be good to them when you're older, you understand?"

They'd say the same things to Aunt Betty,

"Lily's turned into such a pretty, well-mannered girl. Next year she can start working, help you save up for Mike's monetary gift!"

Aunt Betty would shout back, "I never cut corners raising her! It's only right she repays us!"

When I was younger, Uncle's threshing business had been profitable.

But now, villages had electric threshers. Folks hauled their own grain.

Cheap and convenient.

Uncle's old tractor broke down constantly, and his business dwindled year after year.

Ben was in his final year of high school now.

He was doing well academically and aiming for a good university.

Uncle was immensely proud but secretly worried sick about the tuition and living expenses.

I had already accepted my likely future.

I'd end up like my birth mother's two older daughters, heading to a factory job right after junior high.

Then, after a year or two, I'd marry whoever offered the best monetary gift, and start having children.

Thinking this way, I let my focus slip. My midterm grades plummeted.

Uncle saw the report card and slammed his hand on the table. "What is this? You dropped twenty places in the rankings!"

"At this rate, you won't even qualify for the top high school in the county!"

Back then, admission to the best public high schools wasn't automatic.

Middle schools were allocated a limited number of slots based on their past performance.

Ours usually got about thirty.

"What doesn't matter" I muttered, avoiding his eyes. "I'll just be working after junior high anyway"

Uncle stared at mw. "Don't listen to those gossiping old women! If you test into that school, I'll sell the land if I have to, but you're going!"

My eyes flickered toward Aunt Betty, waiting for her reaction.

She shot me a sharp look, "Why are you looking at me? Your uncle makes the decisions in this house."

That was all the confirmation I needed.

My eyes welled up. "I'll study hard. I promise."

From that day on, I buried myself in my books as if my future depended on itbecause it did. My grades climbed steadily back to the top.

Aunt Betty stopped assigning me the heaviest chores, though she'd still grumble under her breath.

"Your uncle'd have my head if he knew I was working you too hard. Feels like I'm raising a fine young lady, not a niece!"

Ben finished his exams, scored well, got into a state university.

Aunt Betty couldn't stop smiling, her pride evident for weeks.

Soon, it was my turn.I received my exam assignment for the county's top high school.

Traveling into the city for the test meant staying overnight in a hotel with our supervising teacher.

Food and lodging weren't free.

The hotel was shabby, its blankets carrying the damp scent of mildew.

Rats scrabbled in the ceiling above all night, and I barely slept a wink.

When I returned to the village, I was pale and exhausted.

Aunt Betty took one look at me and clicked her tongue. "Doesn't look promising."

Friends began inviting me to join them working in southern factories, neighbors started making introductions for potential marriages.

Uncle insisted we wait for the official results.

On my sixteenth birthday, my birth mother showed up unexpectedly. She even brought a small cake.

For a moment, I foolishly let myself believe she might feel remorsethat this was an attempt to make amends.

But after we ate, she revealed her true purpose. "Lily's finished with school now, and she's sixteen. I've found a very good match for her."

The man was twenty-five, walked with a pronounced limp from a past car accident, but his family was offering a monetary gift of fifteen thousand dollarsa small fortune in our town.

My birth mother beamed. "We can split it. That would solve Ben's university tuition!"

"Besides, Lily isn't going to test into that high school anyway. Working in a factory? It would take years to save that much!"

She said all of this right in front of me, as if I weren't even therejust as she had years ago, treating me like livestock to be bartered.

A hot flush of anger spread across my face.

She continued, oblivious. "Lily, so what if he limps a little? His family has moneya big settlement from the accident Marry him, and you'll have an easy life! I'm your mother, I know what's best for you!"

I gritted my teeth, my voice trembling but clear. "I will get in."

My birth mother scoffed. "Stop dreaming. You were always a slow childcouldn't even count to twenty properly!"

"I pushed you out. I know exactly what you're capable of."

I was stupid.

I had actually, for a moment, believed she might feel guilty for abandoning me.

Tears finally spilled over. I yelled, "If I don't get in, I'll go work in a factory! But I won't get married! Not for you! You threw me away when I was five! If I ever earn money, I'd give money to Aunt Betty before you!"

In the heated silence that followed my outburst, the old landline phone on the wall rang, shrill and demanding.

It was my teacher. "Lily Johnson? Your exam results have been posted."

The teacher paused on the other end of the line.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

Then his voice came through, clear and firm. "You got in. Our school was allocated ten slots this year. You placed second."

Sweat I hadn't even noticed was pouring down my forehead. I wiped it away, realizing I was crying.

Uncle grabbed the phone and asked again.

Hearing the confirmation, he simply nodded, his own voice thick with emotion. "Thank God! Thank you, teacher! Thank you!"

Aunt Betty had drifted closer during the call, listening intently. She looked me up and down.

"You came back from that city looking like a ghost. Thought you bombed."

My birth mother stood frozen, her face a mask of stunned disbelief.

"Couldn't even count past twenty" she muttered under her breath, "...and she got into the county's top high school?"

Her eyes darted around the room, a calculating look returning. "A high school student and a university student? How can you possibly afford it? Marrying her off is the sensible thing!"

Ben, who had always held a quiet contempt for our birth mother, yanked his door open. "She's my sister now. Whether she marries or studies is none of your business, Aunt?"

"My tuition is covered by loans. I'll work for my living expenses. She doesn't need to sacrifice herself for me."

He fixed her with a hard stare. "Do you have any idea how difficult that school is to get into? Lily worked her heart out! And you just want to tell her to stop reading?"

Uncle offered a token scolding. "Ben! Mind your manners when speaking to your aunt!"

That was how conflicts were often handled in our worldfierce feelings simmered beneath a surface of forced propriety.

My birth mother flushed, then paled. She had no ground to stand on.

I took a deep, steadying breath. "Aunt, even if I married for monetary gift, the money goes to Uncle Hank and Aunt Betty. You gave me away. You don't get to sell me twice."

My birth mother stormed out, cursing me for an ingrate.

Said Uncle Hank and Aunt Betty were fools, wasting money on a girl.

Aunt Betty killed an old laying hen that night. She served me the drumstick.

"Eat," she said, her tone as brusque as ever. "Just remember, your future monetary gift is mine!"

Village women warned Uncle and Aunt,

"Son in college costs a fortune! Pouring effort into someone else's kid? Might end up with nothing."

"Wouldn't even send a real daughter to school, let alone a niece."

The acceptance letter arrived, detailing the tuition, boarding, miscellaneous chargesC nearly eighteen hundred bucks upfront.

Aunt Betty's face darkened. "Where am I supposed to pull that from?"

"Your future paycheck? All mine, understand?"

Ben's tuition was loans, but living costs needed cash.

When you're poor, a penny feels a lot.

Uncle Hank scrounged everywhere. Someone said, "Ask your oldest."

Uncle Hank forced a laugh. "School's the parents' job, not the brother's."

"Not helping him marry or build a house already failing him."

Ben tutored in town, worked nights at an internet cafe.

He even slept on their couch to save rent.

I wanted to help, to ease the burden in any way I could.

That day, a hair buyer came through town.

My hair was thick, waist-length after five years.

Haggled down to eighty bucks.

Sweating, I ran home with the cash. Aunt Betty was back from the fields.

I handed it over. "Aunt Betty, I sold my hair. Eighty dollars."

Aunt Betty wiped her hands on her apron and stared, her calloused fingers gently tracing the jagged lines of my new haircut. "Who in blazes cut it this short?"

she muttered, her voice a low rumble.

"It's okay, Aunt Betty. It'll grow." I tried to sound brave. " You were always complaining about my long hair shedding all over the house anyway."

"Let's get you to the barber, fix this mess."

"No, Aunt Betty, just grab the scissors. Don't waste five bucks."

That evening, under a sky burning with the last embers of sunset, Aunt Betty borrowed a new pair of shears from a neighbor.

She started trimming, her movements sharp and precise.

She cursed under her breath the whole time.

Cursed the greedy hair buyer for butchering it, cursed me for letting them.

But gradually, the curses softened into frustrated mutters.

"Grow it out again, child.," she finally said, her voice unusually gentle. "Girls look prettier with long hair. We don't need your eighty bucks."

When Ben came home and saw my waist-length braid gone, he was furious.

"Might as well shave it bald! From behind, no one can even tell you're a girl?"

Even my birth mother called me stupid too. "That much hair? Should've gotten a hundred fifty easy!"

In high school, I kept it short. It was easier that way.

Later, Mike sent a thousand bucks home, which finally solved the immediate financial crisis.

Starting high school, I learned the hard truth I hadn't expected.

People aren't equal.

Some students had glided through summer preparatory courses.

They kept up effortlessly, while I felt like an old workhorse, straining under the weight of new concepts.

The teachers focused their energy on the top students. The rest of us?

We were left to sink or swim on our own.

A month in, my confidence was in tatters.

During the fall break, Ben came home.

I peppered him with questions. My voice cracking with frustration.

It was all too much. Just too much.

Ben put down his pencil and looked at me. "Lily, my first year felt exactly the same. I felt stupid. There's a huge gap between rural schools and this place."

"There's a huge gap between rural schools and this place."

"But I learned you have to choose your battles. You have to let some things go."

That night, stars blazed.

Ben talked casually about his own past struggles.

But I knew climbing that mountain alone must have been its own kind of hell.

Now he was holding a lantern, turning back to light my path.

I decided.

I silently forgave him for the dead mouse all those years ago.

I wanted a real career. I wanted to earn a proper living.

I stared to be more focus on my study. And slowly felt progress.

But midterms? Ranked forties in class.

My birth mother heard about it and clicked her tongue. "Told you. Not cut out for books. That score? Maybe scrape into some no-name college."