Ignorance Is Swiss!

7 ♦ Be There and Be Square

7 ♦ Be There and Be Square

The atmosphere was thicker than the Earth's mantle layer.

My mother's reading spectacles hung delicately on her face, any sudden nod or shake enough to make them fly off. With sporadic sips from a glass full of orange juice, she read the draft of my college essay with care. I knew that the beginning was good; I provided a short but effective anecdote, then introduced my thesis and experiences. However, halfway through, I had began to zone out. Seeing that from Monday through the rest of the week I had gotten a total of ten hours of sleep, the deprivation came to challenge me at the worst time possible.

With her long finger, she hit a certain spot on my paper. The sound of the impact felt like a stab that resonated through my heart. She leaned towards me, her pink pajama pants and tank top crinkling as she did so.

"Here," she began. "I like that you used the word 'entitled' correctly. People seem to be using it wrong more and more these days. It's unbelievable."

"Thanks." To be honest, I did not remember writing that word.

Once she finished the last page, she flipped the pages back into number order and gave the essay back to me. There was no way to tell whether she was pleased or disgusted with the essay in general. My heart felt as if it was twisting with anxiety. My father was at the lab working today, so I could not flee to him. I had to wait for the final decision of my mother, who was deciding my fate right in front of me. She tucked her coiled hair behind her ear, and consumed the last drops of orange juice left in her glass. She put it on the small, wooden table in front of the couch.

Taking her reading glasses off, she cleared her throat, which must have still been dry after waking up not too long ago.

"Is it good?" My nerves were uncontrollable at that point.

"It's just okay."

"Just okay?"

"Yes, Safia. You don't need to repeat what I say." Her eyes roamed around my face. I could tell her intention was to read it. "You look tired. Did you work on this all night?"

Was it that obvious? I could only imagine how red my eyes were. I knew, though, that I could use my poor appearance to my advantage.

"Yes," I confided truthfully. "I worked hard on it."

She sighed. "Lucky for you, I told you to make a rough draft, not a final one. So since it's not supposed to be perfect--"

"You're going to let me go?" The confetti in my mind was close to shooting out.

My mother grinned. "Yes, I'm gonna let you go."

My arms had a mind of their own as they embraced her by the neck. "Thank you!" I repeated. She patted my back a few times until she broke the hug off, seeming to not enjoy it as much as I did.

"Yeah, yeah, alright."

In celebration, I cooked the both of us eggs and toasted bread. The television, as always, was put on, my mom wanting to watch the news while I preferred the old cartoons that always played in the mornings for younger viewers. Regardless of that, I let it her choose. With some of the weight lifted from my shoulders, I refrained from concerning myself with such menial things. As I was watching, my phone vibrated next to me, but my mother did not even seem to notice the loud and vigorous tone. I checked the text, which was from Valerie. You'll meet up with Anthony at the party. Remember to wear a cute costume.

Again, the problem I ran away from came back to haunt me even more. The only costumes I had were butterfly and princess get ups from ten years ago. I hadn't gone to a Halloween party all of my high school career, so I was wickedly unprepared for what to expect. The amount of problems I had after a sleep deprived night did not do my mind wonders.