I feel a rush of heat when I touch that orange. I pick it up, inhale its fragrance. I think I will weep…I have twenty dollars in the pocket of my too thin jacket. He expects me to feed two babies and us on twenty bucks. I’m hungry for this orange…I can’t buy it. The last time he gave me twenty dollars, I made the mistake of buying the babies each a pair of slippers. The floors are so cold. I instinctively put my hand to my face. The bruise is gone but the memory lingers.
The babies sat quietly in the cart while I found milk, bread, butter, a bag of potatoes. I’m sick of eating pan potatoes, morning, noon and night. He gets mad at me for not making anything else yet he doesn’t eat anything else. I only have twenty dollars. What am I suppose to do? I buy cheap macaroni and cheese. Four boxes for a dollar. The kids never complain. They love it.
I look up at the clock above the counter and my heart begins to pound. We live across the street from the supermarket and he times me when I leave. I have thirty minutes…He watches me from the living room window. Last time, I was six minutes late and he accused me of sleeping with someone in this crappy supermarket. I wanted to scream. Instead, I found myself stammering how hard it was to run with a rickety stroller with two kids and bags of groceries. I got a slap in the mouth for my trouble. Now the clock says I have twelve minutes to get home.
At the check out there’s an elderly lady ahead of me. I watch as she chats with the cashier. Eleven minutes. I want to push my cart into that old woman. Ten minutes. She chats and laughs and pays for her purchases with every single penny she has in that purse. Eight minutes. I’m sweating. She finally leaves. The cashier rings up my meager offerings and tries to make small talk. I just smile. I can’t speak. I’m so afraid to throw up. Seven minutes. She hands me my twelve cents change. I can’t stop to count. I need to run. Six minutes.
The blast of cold November air makes me feel like I’m waking from a dream, as I push that stroller once more, trying to make the light at the corner. Please merciful God let the light stay green…please I beg you…Four minutes. The light stays green. My stomach hurts so bad.
I see him in the window. Two minutes. He almost looks disappointed as I clamber up the driveway. I look at the clock on the stove as I open the door. Dear mother of God, I made it…
I lay awake in the darkness, waiting. The babies sleep. I don’t know where he is. I keep thinking how I want to buy oranges like it’s nothing. I hear this little voice inside me “Neoma, you have to get out…”
Yes I have to get out…But how?
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Tags: mac and cheese, oranges, pan potatoes, slippers