Microfiction in the spirit of the Christmas Season
Rosa Gonzalez was finished with living, it was simply too painful to keep going. Carlos had left her in the middle of night, and she thought he was a good one. Now she knew, there were no good ones. Love just didn’t make any sense, it was garbage.
She managed to get herself ready for work, and she forced herself to keep going. She walked down the street all bundled up, to her job at the fast food restaurant. She was going to end everything for sure, but right now she just needed more time to think about it.
It was a miserable day at work, with the younger women on her case again about being too slow. What made it worse was, they put her down in Spanish, so the manager never knew what they said. They called her names like “grandma”, and much worse, even though she was only 47. Their words were like knives, and hurt deeply. They only made her more determined to end it all.
As she walked home that evening she stopped by the drugstore, and bought some sleeping pills, realizing they would put her to sleep forever, just like she wanted. $6.99 was a small price to pay. She went out into the cold again, pulling down her knit hat, over her ears, and slipping on the gloves with holes in them.
What a terrible place to live she thought, Mexico had been difficult, but nothing like this. At least she had family back home, and the people were not mean to her. As she walked down the street she heard music, coming from somewhere. Were those church bells? For some reason she thought of the church she grew up in, and being a little girl, running around the village. She pushed those thoughts aside though.
When she got back to her apartment, she did try watching TV, looking for some hope. But the TV preachers made her sick to her stomach, talking about being wealthy, and that a Christian should never have any problems. “Nonsense”, she said, and she turned them off. After she had a few drinks, she prepared her table in the bedroom. She put the pills there, and her mother’s picture. She wanted her mother to be the last person she saw before passing away. She picked it up and held the picture close to her, with both arms embracing the image.
There was that music again – where was it coming from? It was like a choir singing close by. Was that Spanish she was hearing? She sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about her mother. Momma had passed away 20 years ago, but she still missed her so. For some reason she decided to wait on the pills until morning, she was half drunk, and tired. It was too much to think about. As she reached over to turn out the light, the music got louder. She sat in the dark and listened, holding her mother’s photograph.
Then, someone sat down next to her, on the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she did not see anyone, but she felt their presence. As she slowly turned to look, she did see a faint outline – like maybe a shadow of a person. A grey shape turned to look at her, and became brighter, almost white, a soft shade of white. She could make out a woman’s hair, and then she recognized the face. The image said, “Rosa…”, Rosa was shaking now, and said “Momma?”
“Rosa you cannot do this…” “I have no choice Momma, I cannot deal with this pain anymore. And don’t tell me I have a lot to live for, because I don’t.” Her mother said, “Listen to me – Lucinda is looking for you, she wants to know her real mother.”
Hearing the name of the daughter she had given up for adoption, was too much for her, and all of the pain of giving her to someone else to raise, came like a flood. She was broken. All the guilt, all the sadness, washed over her, and she wept bitterly. She covered her face with her hands, and felt the shame of it all.
Later today the conclusion of Rosa Gonzalez! Christmas blessings and peace to you!
Writing © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree