I woke up feeling like I might just skip my physics class in the evening. As the afternoon progressed, I thought the better of it. I was about to get ready to go, when my mother called me. My first reaction was to let it ring, ignore it. I pick up. We were only on the phone for about 18 minutes, yet she managed to pick and choose what she wanted to hear, in a conversation I didn't want to have, and I ended up having to explain that yes, she was a good mother, and no, I didn't mean things to come out the way she took them. I try not to make it obvious that I was crying, and kept intermittently hitting the 'mute' button on the phone, in between wiping away tears and the snotty sound your voice makes when you get like this.
I'd do just about anything to not become my mom.
Not going to class became the reality, and I left anyway to go buy a book someplace. I got in touch with Nelson and he met me in Brooklyn, at the 7th Avenue station. One barbecue sauced-burger later, and we're getting coffee, talking about his ex-girlfriend, Ashley, and her being eight months pregnant, and newly married. He tells me his heart is "still raw" over her. That makes me a little sad. So I take his sketchbook away from him and draw in it a hand-print turkey.
We say our goodbyes and leave at around 11:30pm. I take the F train to 42nd Street and walk to the 7 train. I started reading the book I had just bought while I waited, and the platform became increasingly smaller with the number of people on it growing. I didn't realize I had been waiting for 40 minutes, until one side of my back started to cramp from being in the same position for too long, and it prompted me to look at the time. 12:48am. Then an announcement is made that the 7 line is stopped because of a switch problem. No trains in or out. I leave the station and walk to Times Square, fight with my father over the phone when I tell him I need to take a cab, then plant myself in a 24-hour Duane Reade until one comes. The cab driver talked the entire ride home of lotto tickets and scratch-off games. I think I liked listening to him. He'll be remembered for saying to me, "If grandma had balls, she'd be grandpa."
I'd do just about anything to not become my mom.
Not going to class became the reality, and I left anyway to go buy a book someplace. I got in touch with Nelson and he met me in Brooklyn, at the 7th Avenue station. One barbecue sauced-burger later, and we're getting coffee, talking about his ex-girlfriend, Ashley, and her being eight months pregnant, and newly married. He tells me his heart is "still raw" over her. That makes me a little sad. So I take his sketchbook away from him and draw in it a hand-print turkey.
We say our goodbyes and leave at around 11:30pm. I take the F train to 42nd Street and walk to the 7 train. I started reading the book I had just bought while I waited, and the platform became increasingly smaller with the number of people on it growing. I didn't realize I had been waiting for 40 minutes, until one side of my back started to cramp from being in the same position for too long, and it prompted me to look at the time. 12:48am. Then an announcement is made that the 7 line is stopped because of a switch problem. No trains in or out. I leave the station and walk to Times Square, fight with my father over the phone when I tell him I need to take a cab, then plant myself in a 24-hour Duane Reade until one comes. The cab driver talked the entire ride home of lotto tickets and scratch-off games. I think I liked listening to him. He'll be remembered for saying to me, "If grandma had balls, she'd be grandpa."
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
grizz3rd:
I was just checking how your day was going?
chino_4q:
no...no.... you look cute in the lighting. it wasn't a knock against you. 