I started watching Mad Men on Netflix, being a social smoker, I don’t keep cigarettes with me, so I borrowed a few from my roommate. Next morning I was buying groceries when my eye caught the attention of the cigarette section behind the counter. It instantly reminded me of Don Draper smoke so much and so elegantly, without thinking I purchased the packet. Lighting up the cigarette I felt like Draper, successful, smart and rich. And I’m an adult, almost 10 years over the smoking age limit but the way Draper smokes got me hooked. Watching the series I had started chain smoking without even realizing what I was doing.
“I’m sorry, mom”, these words seem to come out often. I don’t know if it was me being a horrible daughter, or her wanting someone perfect. I was a first-born, and it has been hard. I have three younger brothers, and they seem perfect enough for her. Nothing i did was ever good enough, or up to her standards. I had good grades, I was smart. I did everything she asked. I was polite, unlike my brothers, "please" and "thank you" were a huge part of my vocabulary. I never spoke out of respect. I just never understood. My brothers were rude to everyone, did what they wanted, maybe...just maybe if I was more like them, she would like me.
You’ve gotta be careful. My mother says there are a lot of ways to make someone come out a Bad Egg. For example: giving birth on a bed. You have to be squatting, she says. And the head has to come out first. Josef Mengele was born feet first and instead of pushing him around the other way they just yanked him out by his feet, which made him have a deformed arm and then he became a Nazi. That’s what my mother says. Now that I am having a baby I am very grateful to have my mother around again. She has had six other babies not including me so she knows what to do. She helps all of the other women in the house with their deliveries. Sometimes I get to help too. I get to stand by the women while they are in labor. I wipe their foreheads with hot towels and hold their hands when the contractions come. Some of these women have quite a grip, my mother says. You’ve gotta be careful. They can almost break a finger. Today I learned to cut the umbilical cord. Today is when my baby brother was born. I used a pair of shiny silver scissors bigger than both of my hands.
In a day that she watched over you, she knew that she can't stay with him forever. His eyes tell her that he wasn't honest while his mouth says, "I love you." Her heart sank because it was just a lied. What she couldn't tell him was that she was pregnant with his child.
Chinese bachelors and bachelorettes face immense societal pressure to get married and have children.
If the night couldn't get any worse, five thoughts of stories were whirling in my head, like I needed more to think about. I just wanted to get a good-night sleep, for once. The bags under my eyes were starting to look as if they could house another set of eyes. I just wanted the storylines to shut the heck up and begin again tomorrow. I could hear my mother, the want to be philosopher herself, saying, "don't put off 'til tomorrow, what you can do today." She was a hard woman. When I was a kid, she would never let me catch a break or chill when I was just out of it. Right now, I am totally out of it.
I have always worked the night shift. For some reason, I have always had a sharper mind at night than during the day. Also, they pay better for night shift employees.
“It’s so goddam hot, Christ, we need an air con.” Riley reached down onto the floor by the accelerator where she’d dropped her shirt. She had taken it off back in Westonia and needed to use it as a makeshift sweat towel on her clammy chest. It was a summer’s evening in late February, and the scorching sun on the Nullarbor hadn’t shown any signs of retreating. They had been driving for almost eight hours straight. Driving no faster than a hundred kilometers an hour, slow enough to be sure the car didn’t over heat, but fast enough to reach the roadhouse before sundown.