Sunday, April 19, 2015

It all started with scrambled eggs

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I wonder if this city is a little too strange for a small town girl. My day began with a dream: I was sitting at the table back home and my mother was scooping scrambled eggs on to my plate. Seems like a normal experience, except for the fact that my mother is not maternal. As long as I can remember, I have taken care of her. I cooked. I cleaned. I paid her taxes. I consoled her after a bad date. That’s why I had to get out.

Trying to forget the dream, I headed to my Sunny Side Up breakfast shift. Usually, the constant need for something to get done (wait on table 4, take this to table 6, wipe down the bar, clean up the kid’s mess at table 1, take out the trash, ect), allows me to forget whatever craziness. Today, it left me swimming in confusion. This girl came in and asked if I had ever thought about an underground crime organization. I thought I was a badass for having a fake. Then, she called my charitable giving to the Nigerian Prince a scam and left a diamond as payment!

To dull the anxiety, I practically ran to Joe’s, not, of course, stumbling on Main’s famous pothole. An older lady who introduced herself as Luna helped me up, but instead of asking me if I was okay, she studied my hands and exclaimed, “Failing a class is the least of your worries in the coming week.” Immediately, questions swirled in my head: How does she know about my academic struggles? What is going to happen this week?

These questions added another reason to get blinding drunk. Unfortunately, I was on my first drink when Cameron stormed over and demanded I return my fake. I broke his 10 mile rule and could not handle the responsibilities that accompany alcohol. Luna was right. Who cares about grades when you are void of ability to make friends?

Deciding to quit for the night, I sulked home. To make matters worse, my voice mail informed me that my mother would be "poppin' in" sometime this week. Leave it to Mom to "pop in" at the least convenient time without any concern for anyone but herself. 

How long can I pretend to do this?

Lucia Jayne