in all honesty
It was well past 3:00 but my thoughts were preventing me from sleeping. They weren’t profound or necessarily important thoughts, but they were constant. I rolled over and grabbed my phone to do something to occupy my mind. I knew no matter what I was going to be tired in the morning so I might as well enjoy my night. I scrolled mindlessly on my social media platforms, barely paying attention to anything I read. My eyelids felt heavy and I began to drift off. My phone began slipping from my grasp, until I saw it, in big bold letters an ad saying
The familiar scent of Agnes’ Christian Dior perfume filled the waiting area. Agnes was pretty much apart of the family considering she had been my grandfather’s assistant for longer than I had been alive.
Vicarious My tired eyes awoke to the peeling paint on my bedroom wall being illuminated by the rising sun. The humid air dampened my lungs and provoked a coughing attack. I stumbled for my oxygen mask but couldn’t muster the strength. My mother barged in and frantically attempted to get the mask in position, most mornings were like this now. The worst part wasn’t the pain I felt, but rather the fear in my mother’s eyes. Her fear used to come and go but lately her panic didn’t seem to leave her. My coughing attack ended and I convinced my mother to leave, trying desperately to hold onto what little independence hadn’t been stripped away from me. Whatever hope my family had died last year when we found out the deductible to join an experimental treatment program in Texas was $20 000 American dollars, I don’t think my parents even had $20 000 pesos. My father worked twice as hard to make up for my mother being stuck at home babysitting me all day but that still left us living below the poverty line. It was hard enough as is to get ahead in Mexico, let alone with a liability for a daughter. My parents often thought of immigrating to America but with my condition, chances of us getting approved for residency was low and the taxpayers there can barely pay for their own medical treatment let alone the treatment for an immigrant. I’m sure the thought of illegally immigrating crossed their minds before but between my impairment and carrying an oxygen tank, I’m not sure how sneaky we could be.
The cool of Charlotte’s impending winter was shut out with the slam of my door. I fumbled over boxes as I made my way to the kitchen island to place my groceries. It wasn’t much but would last until payday, not sure how long my body could run on pasta and minute steaks, but I was going to find out the hard way. North Carolina’s recession recovery was great in theory, but it left a lot of experienced and educated people looking for the same jobs as me, leaving me working a 9 to 5 selling stationary and my marketing degree collecting dust. Luckily, I found a house for sale due to foreclosure, it was cheaper than renting and I didn’t have to share a wall with what could only be described as the longest ongoing domestic dispute of all time. I was just about settled into my recliner when the sound of the doorbell interrupted me. I lazily scuffled to the door and all that was there was an envelope almost bursting at the seam due to the thickness of its contents. I caught a glimpse of the delivery driver’s speeding van almost collide with a beat-up Jetta before I went back inside. The package read a familiar name, “Raymond Isaac.” “Poor guy” I thought as I threw it on the pile with the rest of his mail. Nobody deserves for their house to be repossessed, and judging by the condition of his house, he seemed like a good guy. He had an affinity for punching living room walls, but his subpar DIY spackle jobs almost made up for it. That was his ninth piece of mail this week, I assumed he didn’t have the heart to tell anyone of his predicament. I turned my TV on, and the sound of dribbling and broadcasting filled the room. Basketball was never my thing despite being from North Carolina. To be honest I’m not sure why it’s a North Carolina thing, our own team is abysmal and that’s putting it lightly, but I guess enough superstars have called North Carolina home to give people an obsession with the sport.