Please, Take Me Home
Three; Pressure
"Awe, Jackie-wacky!"
Jacky-wacky? Double U- Tee- EFF?!
I widened my eyes at the bleached brain not two yards in front of me. Okay… so maybe her hair was brown (an ugly brown at that) but her brain was the size of a growth stunted ant.
My hands were sweating in my mittens, making me pick and move the wool every couple of seconds. Jack was still acting completely comfortable with the whole situation, walking with his pole-like legs, barely hunched shoulders and slightly smirked lips.
Gosh I want to smack him.
We all rounded the corner to the apartments and I couldn’t take it anymore.
I mumbled a "You guys go ahead." And turned the other way, stepping in the street when the first clearing came.
I picked at my nails as I realized Dave had been the one to yell a "Bye Sally!" and no one else. My feet were starting to ache in my uncomfortable shoes. My eyes were fixed to the ground though and I was not going to stop until I had it.
Finally I saw one glinting neat a rusting gutter.
A Quarter.
As you probably can tell. . . my job doesn’t pay that well, just enough for my apartment and some food. . .and since payday was tomorrow, I had about 16 cents in my bank account.
I searched until I had 3 more of those little beauties, George Washington never looked so gorgeous I tell you, wooden teeth and all.
I headed straight for a payphone. But not just any booth with a phone, my own special one, the one on the corner by the Italian restaurant and the boutique. I only ever go to that one, because it smells good and I can act like I was actually looking at the nice things in the store.
I walked the 5 blocks getting there right at dinner time at the Italian restaurant. There were people rushing in their groups dressed in nice clothes, with nice shoes. I like to walk through crowds like that and pretend I'm one of those people, that laugh like bells and get to do things and always seem so happy, all the time.
I walked with my head high, not making eye contact with these people, they didn’t take any notice. I acted like I belonged, even though I obviously didn’t.
I slipped my first two quarters into the slot, dialed the 10 digit number, and pulled the cord to its limit to sit on the curb.
The phone rang 3 times dully in my ear before it clicked and my mothers voice came over the line. All static and a little distant.
"Hello?" she asked, her accent thick and heavy.
I smiled, to myself, shifting on the curb, almost forgetting to answer.
"Hi, mommy." I said, with a touch of a southern drawl. So I'm somewhat of a baby, there is nothing wrong with that.
"Awe, sweetie! Hun its Sally!" The last part was directed to somewhere else, probably my brother. I think he was home for the summer. He was 2 years older than me and attending Berkeley, on a scholarship. We both had scholarships, but my mom and I had scraped enough money together (me working double shift every night) for me to take summer courses.
"Sweetie how are, how's the internship?" my mother asked excitedly, I could almost see her pressing her thickly made-up cheek into our off-white plastic receiver, waiting with wide eyes to every word.
But my face fell just thinking about it. I hated lying to her, but what was I supposed to say? That I hadn’t gotten the internship to the big Newspaper company. That I had been faking it all. I couldn’t let her know I lived in a run-down apartment in the scrums of New York, working at a fruity bookstore that had more porno- how to's than literature?
How would you feel going to Thank Giving back in North Carolina, with all your cousins, who were becoming lawyers and business owners and you were looked down upon because you wanted to be a Writer. I couldn’t let myself down, I couldn’t let my mom down.
Not my mom, she couldn’t handle that. She wouldn’t be able to handle knowing that I had to miss half my classes because I had to work, since my scholarship didn’t involve board, or that I was currently two weeks late on my essay. I didn’t even have my thesis figured out.
"Good, mom, real good." I answered quickly, biting my chapped lip.
"Are they treating you good? They're not overloading you are they?" She asked in her protective mother voice. The voice that got me a second vote at the Science fair because the judges obviously hadn’t really evaluated 'her babies' work, I was in the 4th grade I really didn’t care.
"No, mom, its just wonderful." I added an upbeat to the way I talked. Over the last year and a half I had perfected the art of fooling my mother into thinking I was okay. I was making her believe that I was the golden child.
The phone beeped and I stood up to slide another quarter in, my last one.
"Mom I gotta go, I have. . ." I couldn’t think of something fast enough to say. "to go, I'll call you next week okay." The beeping was getting faster and faster signaling it was about to shut off.
"Take care sweetheart."
"Yeah mom b-" the phone cut off then, I hung it back onto its stand, sitting back down on the curb. I sat there for a few more minutes longer watching the people, before standing up and walking home.
Jacky-wacky? Double U- Tee- EFF?!
I widened my eyes at the bleached brain not two yards in front of me. Okay… so maybe her hair was brown (an ugly brown at that) but her brain was the size of a growth stunted ant.
My hands were sweating in my mittens, making me pick and move the wool every couple of seconds. Jack was still acting completely comfortable with the whole situation, walking with his pole-like legs, barely hunched shoulders and slightly smirked lips.
Gosh I want to smack him.
We all rounded the corner to the apartments and I couldn’t take it anymore.
I mumbled a "You guys go ahead." And turned the other way, stepping in the street when the first clearing came.
I picked at my nails as I realized Dave had been the one to yell a "Bye Sally!" and no one else. My feet were starting to ache in my uncomfortable shoes. My eyes were fixed to the ground though and I was not going to stop until I had it.
Finally I saw one glinting neat a rusting gutter.
A Quarter.
As you probably can tell. . . my job doesn’t pay that well, just enough for my apartment and some food. . .and since payday was tomorrow, I had about 16 cents in my bank account.
I searched until I had 3 more of those little beauties, George Washington never looked so gorgeous I tell you, wooden teeth and all.
I headed straight for a payphone. But not just any booth with a phone, my own special one, the one on the corner by the Italian restaurant and the boutique. I only ever go to that one, because it smells good and I can act like I was actually looking at the nice things in the store.
I walked the 5 blocks getting there right at dinner time at the Italian restaurant. There were people rushing in their groups dressed in nice clothes, with nice shoes. I like to walk through crowds like that and pretend I'm one of those people, that laugh like bells and get to do things and always seem so happy, all the time.
I walked with my head high, not making eye contact with these people, they didn’t take any notice. I acted like I belonged, even though I obviously didn’t.
I slipped my first two quarters into the slot, dialed the 10 digit number, and pulled the cord to its limit to sit on the curb.
The phone rang 3 times dully in my ear before it clicked and my mothers voice came over the line. All static and a little distant.
"Hello?" she asked, her accent thick and heavy.
I smiled, to myself, shifting on the curb, almost forgetting to answer.
"Hi, mommy." I said, with a touch of a southern drawl. So I'm somewhat of a baby, there is nothing wrong with that.
"Awe, sweetie! Hun its Sally!" The last part was directed to somewhere else, probably my brother. I think he was home for the summer. He was 2 years older than me and attending Berkeley, on a scholarship. We both had scholarships, but my mom and I had scraped enough money together (me working double shift every night) for me to take summer courses.
"Sweetie how are, how's the internship?" my mother asked excitedly, I could almost see her pressing her thickly made-up cheek into our off-white plastic receiver, waiting with wide eyes to every word.
But my face fell just thinking about it. I hated lying to her, but what was I supposed to say? That I hadn’t gotten the internship to the big Newspaper company. That I had been faking it all. I couldn’t let her know I lived in a run-down apartment in the scrums of New York, working at a fruity bookstore that had more porno- how to's than literature?
How would you feel going to Thank Giving back in North Carolina, with all your cousins, who were becoming lawyers and business owners and you were looked down upon because you wanted to be a Writer. I couldn’t let myself down, I couldn’t let my mom down.
Not my mom, she couldn’t handle that. She wouldn’t be able to handle knowing that I had to miss half my classes because I had to work, since my scholarship didn’t involve board, or that I was currently two weeks late on my essay. I didn’t even have my thesis figured out.
"Good, mom, real good." I answered quickly, biting my chapped lip.
"Are they treating you good? They're not overloading you are they?" She asked in her protective mother voice. The voice that got me a second vote at the Science fair because the judges obviously hadn’t really evaluated 'her babies' work, I was in the 4th grade I really didn’t care.
"No, mom, its just wonderful." I added an upbeat to the way I talked. Over the last year and a half I had perfected the art of fooling my mother into thinking I was okay. I was making her believe that I was the golden child.
The phone beeped and I stood up to slide another quarter in, my last one.
"Mom I gotta go, I have. . ." I couldn’t think of something fast enough to say. "to go, I'll call you next week okay." The beeping was getting faster and faster signaling it was about to shut off.
"Take care sweetheart."
"Yeah mom b-" the phone cut off then, I hung it back onto its stand, sitting back down on the curb. I sat there for a few more minutes longer watching the people, before standing up and walking home.