13 December 2006

Written when I should have been studying. We all saw it coming.

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Sally Sob-Story

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Sally was the pretty one with long, blond hair; straight and perfect. She was the one with the perfect teeth and dazzling smile, a loving boyfriend whom vowed to love her forever and ever. The ideal American high school girl with the trademark blond hair and blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, and great legs.

Sally, perfect Sally, sits on the porch of her one-story home, a baby against her rounding hip. Two toddlers, identical twins, to everyone's dismay, play at her feet, burbling over a plastic toy truck. Her five year-old daughter, pretty and tired like her mother -despite her age, but so much more quiet with a sweet smile. Her eldest child, her seven-year old son, sits beneath the oak tree, tearing up grass as he silently stares off.

Barely twenty and five years with five children already. Sally loves her children, yes she does, Sally loves her children, but she cannot stand the crying. She does not want more children -five is plenty- but her stomach swells gently, betraying her. A sixth child, another boy, how lovely, how special, how happy.

She scowls, wrinkling her smooth brow, making the ghost of lines near the corner of her eyes contort into crows' feet. Barely twenty and five with wrinkles already. She hoists little Tommy, her precious baby, and hugs him tight. These children were all she had left, the only stable thing that she could rely on.

The high school sweetheart, former captain of the football team, perfect hair, perfect teeth, just perfect -Mr. Perfect- knocked her up five times, six including the one growing in her belly. Mr. Perfect was always out. Mr. Perfect worked all day, drank all night, gave her shiner, and collapsed on the couch for her to deal with crying children and nurse the horrible bruise.

She had no chance of escaping the rundown home with her five pretty children in tow. Sally had never finished high school, let alone college, and had no job or any job qualifications. She had no realistic chance, but she was not torn and broken. She was bruised and sharked, but she had her dignity and fierce love for her children. No embarrassment would come upon them, but neither would their father's hand.

Sally loved her children, yes she did, Sally loved her children and couldn't bear to hear them cry.

She stood on that porch, kissing her baby's fat cheek. They all deserved better than this. Clarise, her beautiful daughter, would grow too beautiful and then Sally would be able to protect her from her boozy barely-husband. Her chest tightened painfully at the thought of her beautiful, pure Clarise hurt and damaged. Sally bit her bottom lip, wincing as she stretched the bruise.

She padded slowly into the house, glancing at the dusty clock that she never cleaned. Three hours till her husband came home. She picked up the phone from the wall, robotically pressing the large buttons and pressing the phone against her ear, slippery from sweat hands.

'Hello?' a kind voice asked on the other line.

'Mom,' Sally gasped, tears rolling down her ashen cheeks. 'Mom.'

She sobbed into the phone, making arrangements to come over, in two hours, with her five children and whatever they could carry.

Sally hung up the phone, clutching to her Tommy. She stood still then walked slowly back to the porch.

'We're leaving,' she said. 'Get whatever you can take. We're leaving to Gramma's.'

Clarise's wide, green eyes grew wider, then dashed into the house to gather her things. Sally waited for Brian, sweet, sensitive Brian, to come to her. He approached slowly, looking at her knowingly. Sally suppressed a sob, but put on a brave smile that said everything was going to be okay.

She walked into the house, dazed, and packed some things, some of the childrens' favorite books, some special items that all reminded her of her children. They were her life, her rhyme and reason. She was a fierce mother with tender hands.

It was all Sally's fault, but she could fix it. It was all Sally's fault, but she wouldn't allow her children to get hurt.

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I used American spelling. So bloody sue me; it fits. Feedback appreciated.