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Last evening - kept misfiring! Running from place to place - the salon for an eyelash touch-up, Dominicks (groceries), Whole Foods (produce) and then barely made it on time to the alley where I do my monthly drug (I mean egg) pickup. Sometimes it DOES feel illicit like a drug deal. We enter a nondescript alley, only from the north, and drive to the garage that's open, where we take possession of the coveted objects that have been collected that week and packaged up for dispersement. We try and stay under the radar so as not to bother the neighbors when we drive up for our monthly fix of farm fresh eggs. These days I get six dozen cuz Shay eats so much.
Then home to put the groceries away and then off to the Writer's Group - only William showed, no call from James - we were confused but decided to write, just the two of us. Later other folks came in and said the room was reserved for them at 8:00, we challenged it. "We have had this room the 2nd and 4th Wednesdays of every month for over a year now!" It was pointed out to us that yesterday was the 1st Wednesday of the month. Oops! And funny that both William and I made the same mistake! So we wrote and enjoyed each others' company. Just did one prompt - picked a first line from a bunch. This is what I wrote:
Cosmic forces have a way of turning up the heat to make us change. Problem was, I didn't want to change. Truth be told, I kinda like my crummy little life. True being a girl who pushes wheelchairs around the airport isn't much of a job. Even with the tips I don't clear enough to move out. But hey, I'm only twenty and growing up is dang hard - not a fan so far. Pa just gave me the bill for my wisdom teeth that got yanked this summer. Seriously?! $1800 for an hours work? And really, couldn't they have just fixed them or something? I mean, they're wisdom teeth for Lawd's sake! - get it? Wisdom Teeth! Why pull something that's supposed to make you wise? God knows I could use a little wisdom about now.
So this is what happened. Don't worry, I'm not going to tell you about an alien abduction or anything crazy like that. i've got someone hiding in my closet - let me explain. On Thursday, wait, no Wednesday - yeah it was definitely Wednesday cuz Todd was there and he doesn't work on Thursdays. On Wednesday, I had to push this Arab lady all the way from terminal two to terminal three. That's not what was weird. We get Mooslims every now and then, even here in Savannah. Not many, mind you, but now and then.
She was wearing the whole robe thing - the kind where you can't even see the mouth - just a slit for her eyes. So I couldn't tell how old she was. At first, I figured she was old cuz she needed a wheelchair but she didn't smell bad like a lot of the old ones do. Actually she smelled kinda nice - like the little roses on the fence at my Nonee's house. I looked at her hands and realized she was young - sweet kinda chubby hands with bitten fingernails.
When she sat in the chair and I helped her with the seatbelt, I could tell something was wrong. She waved me away - wanted to belt herself. I knew, could tell from that bitty second I helped her that she was expecting a baby - felt the baby bump. She knew I knew cuz my eyes must have showed my surprise. When I looked from her belly to her eyes she warned me. Not sure how, just something about the fire in her eyes that shut me up. Without saying one word she let me know she was in trouble.
Her name is Fatima. She speaks English with a British accent - private schools she says. When she told me her name, I laughted - rude I guess but hey, I wasn't brought up to hold my tongue.
"Can I call you Fatty?" I laughed. "Boy, you must get teased all the time!"
Fatima just smiled. "I would prefer you call me by my name which I like very much by the way - it means climbing roses in Farsi."
"So when is the baby due?" I dared to ask.
"Never!" she said.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought..."
"No, you're right. I AM pregnant but no one but you knows - not even my boyfriend, Basil. I've got to figure out a way to get rid of it." She chewed her nails as I pushed her through the strolling crowds.
"What about your parents?" I had noticed them at the sky cap - they looked serious and scary.
"They'd kill me if they knew."
"Yeah, my parents would probably do the same if I came home pregnant. They'd be so pissed - probably kick me and baby out."
"No, I mean they would kill me - actually kill me. If they didn't, my uncles surely would. And Basil - they'd kill him too."
"Jeesh - for real!? I was starting to like Fatty a lot.
"Can you help me? What's your name anyway," she asked, spinning around in the chair to plead with me - conveying her need with slit eyes..
"Sabrina, my name's Sabrina. What can I do?" I asked, turning her problem around and around in my head. I couldn't take her home - Pa detests anything foreign. I swear he won't even eat French toast or Spanish rice - and forget something really exotic like bagels or God forbid, sushi. He'd have a heart attack if I brought what he would call a towel-head home - especially one with pissed off uncles.
"I can walk a little. And I know how to camp - maybe you could take me to a forest - someplace with a cave or a cabin or something where I can hide until I figure out this baby thing."
"I'll take you home," I said putting my fear to the side. "You'll have to hide in my closet. Don't worry, it's not as bad as it sounds. It's big - a walk in and it even has a trundle bed in it I used to use for sleepovers. We'll figure this out!" I was swept away by the adventure of it all. Maybe I did want my life to change after all!
Fatty's been in my closet for a few weeks now. Ma and Pa have no idea. She's quiet as a mouse - reads my Kindle all day and pees in a cup. After the parents go to bed at about 10:00, she comes out and showers and poops probably. We make popcorn and sit on my bed and watch TV or talk.
She hasn't said anything more about the baby - and we haven't talked about how long we can keep this up. Sometimes I see her stroking her belly. I wonder if she might want the baby after all. What the hell are we doing to do?"
Gotta run! Mountains to climb! Rivers to ford! Dragons to slay! Challenge today could be asking yourself, "Is there something I do that nurtures my soul, gives vent to the creative gasses that hiss in each of us, gasses that MUST have release. Anais Nin said something like, "Neurotic people are artists without a medium." I think we are ALL artists. If you don't have something like writing, singing, painting, scrapbooking - even something as banal as updating your Facebook regularly - if you are not creating something on a regular basis, are the gasses building up?
Peace,
Sarah
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