A Slice of Life

A Slice of Life

Inspiration: This story idea came to me on a Thursday afternoon, while I was at Dunkin’.  I just felt this awful weariness of body hit my like a ton of bricks.  I was utterly exhausted, and I knew that this was only part of my day.  Well, enjoy! :)

The Price of being me

            It’s one in the afternoon when the realization hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.  Heat and sweat enveloped me in an unwanted embrace and drew away, leaving me exhausted and longing desperately for my bed.  Dressed in my Dunkin’ outfit of hat and apron, I trudged over the register, eyes drooping in want of a few moments rest.

            “Can I help you M’am?”  The cheery tone that carried my words reflected everything that I didn’t feel at the moment.

            I mindlessly carried out the order, thoughts collected on what my second half of the day held in store for me.  A crowded bus and a two hour class . . . Now if only I can get through this.

            I handed off the coffee to the woman, collected the money and then stood in front of the register staring blankly at the time display, counting off each second in anticipation of freedom.

Only two more hours to go . . .

I inwardly groaned as my feet began to ache in avid protest of its abuse.  Two hours was far too long, but perhaps if I kept my mind off the time, three o’clock would roll around before I could register the bonds keeping me here unclasp from my wrists.  Taking a deep, steady breath, I focused my mind on the work at hand: making a bagel toasted with cream cheese.  Time seemed to fly by then, until at last I heard the words I’d been dying to hear from my Manager.

“Malina.  You can go.”

Sure, my name isn’t Malina, but hell, I was free to go.  I could barely control my enthusiasm as I made my way to the kitchen and punched in my ID number to clock out.  I undid the ties to my apron and tore off my hat, taking time to run a brush through my lifeless hair in front of the glass doors of the milk fridge.  And then I was flying out the door, my purple bag wheeling noisily behind me.  The bus was coming and I had to make it, so I ran down the street, hoping the others waiting at the stop were getting on the same bus.  At the very least they would buy me some time as I huffed and puffed my way to the corner.

With my breath held tight, I hoisted my pregnant bag up the three stairs and onto the bus and inserted my metrocard.  Then I squeezed myself in past the closing doors and held onto a nearby bar, tight, fighting each bump and swerve that threw me off balance.  Arrival at the school only greeted me with yet another bus ride, however, one that was much more enjoyable and relaxing; I had a seat, after all, to rest my weary back and feet.  After a tedious wait, the bus hummed with life and began its one of many monotonous journeys around the campus. 

When I reached my destination, I collapsed into a corner, relieved to at last be in one place so I can catch my breath.  But then, all too soon, I had to drag myself to my class, mind in a fog of exhaustion.   Class, though engaging, passed along in a blur and at last I’m on my way home.  But even there, my day isn’t over.

As soon as I get home I crawled into my bed, allowing it to ease my bodily woes.  Not long after, I heard my brother’s soft knock, before he opened the door a crack, then pushed it open all the way.  I knew what he wanted before he even opened his mouth, but I allowed him to ask anyway.

“Hey, Lena Cat, do you want to play with me?”

Though I saw the desperate pleading in his eyes, my body protested and I knew I could not oblige his request for some quality time.  Not today at least.

“I can’t Manny.  I have a lot to do tonight; maybe some other time?”

“Okay . . .”

Dejection overtook his posture and belied his disappointment, but I just couldn’t give in, not with my body aching for rest, something I longed for.  He shut the door behind him quietly and I listened to his footsteps as they receded down the hall outside and down the stairs.  I rolled over onto my side and shut my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but not long after that the creaking the door alerted me to my sister, Yolande’s presence in the room.  Almost as soon as she came in, the TV was on and the room was filled with the latest and most popular music.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, attempting to block out the noise, but finally gave up the battle.

“Can you turn that down please or leave?  I’m trying to take a nap.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“In the living room, I guess.”

“Fine . . .”  

She gave me a little pout as she shut off the TV and left the room.  I again listened as her footsteps receded quietly down the steps.  Then the room was immersed in both a growing darkness and a comforting silence; it’s just the way I like it. 

I drift off comfortably, but then I am disturbed again by my mother coming into the room to tell me about her day.  I barely suppressed my growl of frustration, and came out of my cocoon of warmth to give her my undivided attention.

I sure am popular today, more so than usual.

Once my eyes had refocused, I realized that she was not alone and that everyone, even my dad was crowded in the doorway, looking at me with strange looks.

“What’s this all about?”  I stifled a yawn behind my hand and blinked a few times as I adjusted to the light that’s was now flooding the room.  “Have you come to ration off time with me or come at me all at once?”  Though I knew my bitterness stemmed my crankiness over being woken up again having, I was in no mood to apologize.

“No.”  My mom gave me a hard look, before it softened into a knowing look.  “We just wanted to give you this.”

I eyed the envelope she held out to me with skepticism, but took it nonetheless.  “What is it?”  I examined it, turning it over in my hands.

“Just open it already.”  My dad gestured toward the envelope, his brows forming an impatient m-shaped frown above the bridge of his nose.

I needed no more prodding as I eagerly eased my index finger beneath the sealed flap of the envelope, nearly earning myself a nasty paper cut.  What I found nearly stole my breath away.

“What’s this?”  The tears were starting to come, I knew, and I was helpless to stop them.

“Read it, read it.”  Yolande bounced up on her toes, eyes trained on my reaction to what I held in my hands.

I took a deep breath and began to read the handmade card.  “Though we know it’s not much, here’s something to show we care and appreciate all the hard work you do.  P.S. Turn the card over.”

I did, and found a round-trip plane ticket to Florida stuck to the back of it.  The tears came down harder this time.

“This is for the writing conference I wanted to go to, right?”

My mom just nodded and I clamored out of bed, arms outstretched for a group hug.

“We know you work so hard and we just wanted to do something special to show we care and appreciate everything you do.”  Manny held me tight and I returned his embrace with a tight one of my own.

“Thank you so much . . .” I brushed away my tears and gave them all a watery smile, before looking down at the gift I had received.

Sometimes it pays to be me.

-END-

Author Notes: I hoped you enjoyed this slice of life piece that I wrote. For me, it helped me examine exactly what I do every day and dwell upon how much of what I do is appreciated.  Of course, the end is fabricated on my part, but I felt it was a desirable, personal ending for me.  What did you think?  Please leave your thoughts or comments down below.  Thanks for reading! :)