DESCRIPTION
This short story tries to capture some facets of the social, political, and economic contradictions that exist in American society by looking at the lives of two young, mothers who are in school. The story begins at school and moves on to their respective homes. No sides are taken by the author, rather the author seeks to make social commentary about our society, today. [1,206 words]
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I am a mother of two children with a passion for landscsape design, urban planning,and writing. I prefer writing short stories and poetry. [March 2000]
The red streak jumped out from behind thin masses of black hair that framed a finely featured Irish face. She didn't realize that all her effort to look different from all the capitalists that inhabited the United States really served as a defense mechanism geared towards mitigatingthe affects of having been shafted by a mother who married four times; a father who didn't stick around; a amn who took advantage of her teen year naivete and impregnated her without an ounce of remorse nor interest in creating a family after the fact. There was no savings of happiness to fall back on to face all the assaults encountered in everyday life. Living was hard. Getting up, going to work, taking care of her seven year old son all took such effort to do despite the fact that these were but the mere basics of survival. Samantha sat down next to her classmate. "Maria," she asked. "Did you get your assignment finished last night?" "Oh yeah, but I stayed up all night working on this that I'm absolutely exhausted." "How about you?" as she pulled out her notebook and a pen with apharmaceutical logo nicely printed on it. "No. I'll just hand it in later." As the two sat in class listening to their professor Samantha kept making comments to Maria about the Anthropology department and how members of this group smoked pot on digs and how the historian they recently read probably was high on some drug or else she would not have been able to evoke the beautiful imagery behind the salvation of Mexica warriors when they died. "You know those butterflies could not have been conjured up without some help." Maria sat stunned as Samantha laughed. The professor lectured on the function of the sacred in Mexica society and class soon ended. The two walked out the door and walked to their cars, separately. In the dark Samantha thought about her son. SHe had been gone all day and it was now ten o'clock at night. There would be no time to relax and muse over the trivialities of the mundane. Her roommate and sometime companion, Joaquin, babysat. Her son was in safe hands. AS she walked, Samantha thought about Maria. Maria had it so easy. There was nothing wrong with her. Everything she did she did right or very well. Samantha had met Maria's son. His face simply looked fresh. There was a smile on his fface. He said "hello!'and ran off to a drinking fountain in a controlled frenzy, she thought. HIs clothes were clean. He was a nice kid. She knew without a doubt that MAria put everything into her child. She did everything well. MAria's writing was beautiful and her voice perfect. Not only was she a good mother, a good student, but she came from a perfect family. Everything in her life was not marred by alcoholism,violence,neglect, poverty, struggle, ugliness, dilapidation. Capitalism created MAria. She received all the rewards such a system rendered to compliant individuals. It was obvious with her nice manners, friendly disposition, cute clothes, and European husband. She was cute, very cute, very capitalist cute. Yuck. As MAria sat in her carshe thought about SAmantha's hair job. "how could she dye her hair jet black with a clown red streak in it?" thought MAria. "She is always changing her hair color." "Why does she dress like a thrift shop representative?" sighed Maria. Maria new about all the struggles Samantha had faced and continued to do so, but she sensed the tension when they were together. All she evr tried to do was hang out with her. She was pretty cool in many ways. She new there were class differences and didn't care. Capitalism didn't mean a thing to her nor did hierarchy or racism or elitism, but that didn't mean she would not give her children everything that family life could offer. Capitalism didn't make families happy; communities neighborly; countries rich in culture and people. MAria pulled into the driveway. The lights were on in the kitchen. She opened the door and her husband gave her a kiss on the cheek. The kids were in bed and dinner was on the stove. "Hi honey." How were the kids tonight?" asked MAria. "Oh, they were just fine." We went for a walk and stopped at the cafe. Then, we came home and drew pictures of dinosaurs." As Maria plopped down on their rather mediocre looking couch that had Levitz written all over it, she smiled. "I love when you saute broccoli for me. You are the best at making vegetables taste sooo good." The bundy's would be on soon, but first there were some commercials and then the news. Ad after ad sold some brand of packaged food or some medicine to relieve heartburn and indigestion. Then an ad for the new and improved version of wrestle mania controlled at least a minute of television time. The news didn't offer much. A random shooting here. A robbery there. A kidnapping in a perfectly manicured suburban neighborhood. The stock market was up for the fifth day in a row. Julia Roberts signed a multimillion dollar deal with a movie studio; apparently her smile wooed industry execs and Americans alike. A lot was going on in the U.S. A t last, AL Bundy sitting on the couch waiting trying to find his cherished boob show while Peg tries to get some snuggle time with Al. MAria and her husban laughed approvingly. Samantha walked in the door and Joaquin was on the couch snoring. She walked quietly around the house since everybody was in bed. In her bedroom her little one was sleeping. His chest went up and down, gently,quietly. She took off her combat boots. As she walked around the room she kicked one of her Latin American studies books and stubbed her toe "God dammit!" she quietly yelled. "Who the hell left that thing on the floor?" she whispered. After brushing her teeth and putting onher pajamas Samantha climbed into bed with her next to her only love. The bed was warm and she kissed her little one to sleep. The next morning she cooked eggs and bacon for breakfast. The two earlybirds wolfed down their food and got ready for school and work. They piled into the grand dame that once shined as a prestigious cadillac. Now, as it coughed and spewed out enough exhaust to make any environmentalist report them the car relaxed and rolled onto the tar paved road headed towards the westside. There, her son would go to school and get a good education with a bunch of spoiled rich kids, but in a safe environment. ""I love you Mom" said her don as he shut the door just a little too hard. Alone, SAmantha thought about all the work she had to do There was research for class that had to get done by the end of the week, but she had to work all day, everyday. Maybe during her lunch break she could do it. Or, she she could go have her done bright red this time. As she drove to work she thought about Maria. She really didn't like her.
READER'S REVIEWS (1) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"I failed to find any rational social commentary in this piece. You have a good idea but the thought required to embrace the subject is lacking. I recommend you spell check your work before submitting for review. Spelling and structural errors greatly diminish your work. The dialogue does not read well. In one instance you use an exclamation point when the character is whispering. A good writing course will help you with these problems." -- Greg Olson, New York, NY.
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