"Stan."
"Stan!"
"Stan!"
I felt someone tapping me vigorously from my sleep.
My heavy eyelids opened up slowly, my brain still trying to boot.
"Stan!"
This last call woke me completely.
It was mum calling.
Her face looked very impatient.
She was probably late for work.
But it was Sunday.
"Stan, are you awake?"
I nodded, rubbing the little sleep left from my eye.
"Your dad and I have a meeting today; we'll be back by evening."
"Your new babysitter will be here in a few minutes."
I wasn't paying much attention to what she had been saying but as soon as the words "new babysitter" poured out, my eardrums awakened.
"I can't have a new babysitter!"
I protested.
I instantly picked up the smell of my morning breath.
Ughhh!
It was awful!
But I had to ignore it – until I got rid of the new babysitter.
"Mum, I don't need a babysitter."
I spoke trying to contain my bad breath.
"Stan, we've talked about this and nothing's changed."
My opinion never really counts anyway, so there isn't any point trying.
"I have to go now Stan. Bye, I love you."
She rushed out the door in a hurry.
Her 'I love you' lacked emotion.
It sounded more like an obligation.
About an hour passed, my new 'Emma' had not arrived.
I was already joyed she had bailed like the past eight sitters.
Since Emma left, it's been difficult to find a reliable sitter for me.
A few minutes later...
The doorbell went.
It was probably Yose.
He was probably back from the gym.
He probably came home with girls like he always did.
A lot of things were highly probable when it involved Yose.
I lazily waddled to the door.
"Hi."
A very feminine voice hit me.
She must be one of Yose's girlfriends.
"I'm Martha."
The voice hit me again.
I stared blankly at her.
She must be expecting me to introduce myself.
"You must be Stan."
I nodded affirmatively.
"I'm your new babysitter."
SHOCKER!
She looked nothing like Emma.
She was a girl, probably the same age with Yose.
Emma was a 'mama' , in her late fifties.
She was tall and slender.
Emma was short and pot bellied.
Why would mum let her babysit me?
Martha knew I wasn't going to let her in anytime soon, so she let herself in.
"You have a big house."
Tell me about it.
"Have you had breakfast already?"
"Yeah."
"What did you have?"
"Cereal?"
"That's not good enough but we'll let that pass."
What's her problem?
She had a lot of excitement in her voice.
I think she wanted me to return the same energy.
It wasn't going to happen anyway.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting With Martha
FanfictionStan was an introversive little boy constantly bullied by everyone he met but his life took a total turn around when he met Martha. Sitting With Martha is a story told from the the point of view of eight year old Stan Milano.
