My blog is going to connect with the reading Hills Like White Elephants (Ernest Hemingway) . I to was placed in a similar situation were it was a little difficult to discuss or even talk about the “elephant” in the room because we both had our own strong personal opinions about bringing a child into this world. And being conflicted on how it would either make my life, our relationship better or worse. The broken and cracked bench is symbolic to the way I felt after the conversation.
If I was to say that that day was just like any other day, I would be lying. “Why do I have to? Why should I? Did she do it? Fuck no!” I shouted through my cellphone as I watched the children getting off the bus, just happy and cheerful without a care in the world. Seeing them in that state with their matching hats and gloves only intensified my emotions.” Because I” was all I heard when I pulled the phone away from my ear and ended the call. Looking out the window across the field, I watched the rest of the kids get off the bus, run to their assigned teachers and head towards the blue double doors of the daycare. A wave of thoughts and mixed emotions was my mood until Mrs. Sweeny walked in. “Oh my word! You sure match the saying of “putting a little elbow grease into it” now don’t you?!” With whatever positivity I had left in me I smiled politely and said “I’m glad your pleased.” My attitude and face changed as soon as turned my back. I heard her clear her throat, my teeth clenched because i just knew she was going to ask for a favor. Something like can I get her blouse from out of her closet that reeked of moth balls or get her gourmet candy that looked wax but tasted old and stale, like it was the first candy ever made. But instead I heard “your so nice and beautiful, you’ll make a perfect wife and have such beautiful little darlings.” As if being nice and beautiful with the ability to clean” was a guarantee that I'll be a wife with children. Not in today's day and age but i guess that’s how things were in her time, I thought to myself. With a faint smile I waved her goodbye and made my way out the apartment. I had a strong craving for butter pecan ice cream while walking to my next cleaning job in the same apartment complex but just a few doors down. Checking my watch I seen that I still had roughly around twenty minutes to spare. The chandeliers were extremely dusty which made the light that shined look dim and the once pretty white walls look cream. The hallway carpet had been removed due to the new renovations the apartment complex was undergoing. But the smell of vitamins and cheap perfume lingered throughout the hallway and it made me nauseous. Making my way out the building I could see the construction workers pulling up to get their day started. Walking to the smoker’s station felt like I walked a mile, when it was only fifteen feet or so away. Taking a pull on my cigarette usually calms my nerves but instead I spit up last night meal all over the ground. Spitting the rest of the acidic, tart tasting vomit out my mouth I felt my phone vibrate. I waited for it to vibrate again to cause i just knew for a fact that it was him that was calling. But it didn’t, so I knew it was a text or even more likely an email. Reaching into my tight khaki uniforms pants that i just out of the blue started to hate and grabbed my phone. Sure enough it was a text that read “call me now please?” Five minutes of the conversation was light hearted with a little laughter here and there. “So you still want to keep the baby? Just think about how altered your life would be?” I would never get to see you right, cause you will be working all week, and the day you have off is committed to sleep right?” The voice that spoke so boldly just a day ago now sounded soft and confused. “How are you to care for a baby and your grandma? We have limited time now with each other so if you do we’ll never have time for each other.” All I’m saying is your, were so young and have so much more life to live. I promise next time around will be different we will be ready.” Are we not ready now? If it wasn’t meant to be here why did this happen? It’s called a mistake Kenya they happen, but you going through with it doesn’t take all the good in you, and it deserve our best at our best. Don’t you agree? Picking away at the old bench that had all types of marks on it I replied “I guess.”
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Kenya McDuffie
This blog will be used to share my thoughts and exchange thoughts with others. Archives
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