Chapter 11
I'm going to talk about a hero who was somewhat ignored, but deserves so much praise. Guesss who? Not Larry the goldfish, but Maria. She saved her daughter's life and put up with a lot of things. Maria, thank you so much. This is your chapter. Oh, and instead of part of Trinity's book, I'm putting a e-mail from Trinity at the begining. Trinity and Collin aren't their real names. No names are real. Hope you don't mind.
Note to diclaimers: me no own.
Hi Angel,
I just read the tenth chapter. I must clarify, I DID NOT PUNCH "COLLIN" THAT HARD!!! Huh, seems funny calling him Collin. Besides, he was being a jerk, kinda. Well, that's just stupid to write a whole and complete e-mail arguing over the past. So I'll continue.
I don't really post reviews, since you asked me not to, I can kinda understand why, but I still read them. Somethings they say are true. Yes, Delorfirith, my dad was an asshole. Nice name. Why did I punch Collin, Lil? See above. And for all, thanks for reading about me!
Don't even think about showing someone this.
Yours truly,
"Trinity" (Hee hee... I like that name better than my own!)
Maria Angeloz was tired, sad, and somewhat fed up. Job interviews, she hated them. She hadn't had a job since Trinity was born. Somehow, 'housewife' didn't sound to impressive on a resume. She hated this, hardly having enough for rent. She had her savings account. And the money Trinity had saved. And Colledge Education money. She tried to erase those thoughts from her mind. She hated the idea of taking money from Trinity, though she had offered it so freely, and she hated the idea of accepting it. Trinity shouldn't have to be saving money for food instead of clothes or skiis or somthing kiddish. Even more, she hatedthe idea of taking money from Trinity's education. She hadn't had a very good one herself.
"Maria, Maria, why do you turn down the money?" Mrs. Angeloz cried, looking at her stubborn daughter, eyes hard but face soft.
It wasn't the best of times for the Angeloz household. They were poor.Mr. Angeloz had been injured and was currently out of work. It was hard to find work for a injured man who was new to the country, not even having a true citizenship yet. And their youngest daughter Maria was just about to graduate. She had to go to colledge. Her mother wanted it that way. She had never gotten past grade five. She wanted her only daughter to be different. Mother of six others (boys), she was a devoting mother. She had always spoiled Maria a bit, being the girl, but now the daughter was rising against it. All her other sons had education from back in Spain, but Maria was refusing.
She wanted to take her, her father, and her mother back to Spain. They were rich in Spain. Not millionaires, but better off. Now they were poor, with her father's new-found disability. She couldn't tyake the money. She couldn't leave her parents. She couldn't. If she left them, what would happen? She was the only one working, her part-time job as a waitress. If she took the money her parents would have nothing left. Life was such bitter decisions.
Small tricklets of tears ran down her cheeks. She missed her dead parents, and her brothers back in Spain. Bitter memories flooded in. Bitter but sweet. They weren't well, but they had been happy. And yet, she could relate to her mother. Family came first. Over all money, friendships, power, health, time, behavior, and suffering, family came first. Those who believed by that were part of it. Those who didn't, though related, weren't.
"You look perfect," her mother gasped.
A girl, in the middle of her twenties, looked down at her crisp white dress, bouquet of flowers at hand. She twirled around in the mirror, like a fairy-tale princess. Her hair shook as she laughed at how perfect everything was turning out. Her parents were no longer poor. Everything had worked out. Everything. She was about to get married.
A man, in his thirties, stepped in. He wore a navy uniform and looked at the two women in happiness. Maria looked over and shrieked, running towards him.
"Martin!" she gasped. "Oh, Martin, you made it! All the way from Spain, and you made it!"
"I brought my family, too," he smiled.
A woman grinned and walked in the room, followed by a young boy and a toddler.
"Juanita! Marrin! Constanza! Oh, i'm thrilled to see you all! Thrilled!"
She immidaitely started playing with her young nephew and niece, while talking to Juanita Angeloz, her youngest brother's new wife.
"It's almost time," her father came in and whispered.
Maria got up and straightened her hair. It was her day, it was her time.
Yet another memory, so many tears, so much laughter. How could something so perfect have gone so wrong? She never would have imagined abuse. It was in movies, not for real. It was too much.
Shopping. She had to take her mind off it somehow. Shopping, Trinity needed some new clothes. That's why she was down here in the first place. Shopping. Shopping. No abuse. Shopping. Shopping. It made an odd chant, circling and singing in her mind.
First Maria entered a clothing store she had neve seen. It was getting cold, and all the clothes Trinity had brought were summer-y, or too worn out to wear. There, in the display window, was a mannequin sporting a very stylish shirt and jeans. Maria looked up at it longingly. It looked like something Trinity would wear.
"Can I help you?" the clerk asked from the desk. Maria looked around.
"No thank you," she replied.
She stole a glance up a the top and filched. A price tag hung loose, with a large sum of money clearly etched on it in big writing. Small to someone else, large to Maria. She could never afford it with their budget. Never in a million years. And yet she looked up at it, hoping that some angel would come out of the sky and hand the outfit to her.
Suddenly, a young girl named Angel did exactly that.
"Who are you?" asked Maria.
"I'm the author of this story," said the Angel.
I really wish I could have done that. I really do. But as author I am somewhat obliged to tell the somewhat truth, and the truth is I didn't even know this was happening at the time.
Maria walked from the store, sad and alone. She hurried into the second hand one next to it, and tried to pick some reasonable outfit. But all the clothes were ugly, summer clothes, or unreparably torn. She had managed to pick up some socially acceptable sweaters and jeans, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt. It was unbearable.
It was cold, and Maria found herself wandering around, wondering where to go. The wind whipped her and lashed her, and she ran for cover in towards the closest shop. She opened the door and entered, reading the name.
Toule's Books
Trinity loved to read. Maria remembered handing her a book, about a year ago. She had looked at it, then read the first chapter. "Mom, I hate it," she said. "It's so Brittish and hard to understand."
Then she read the next and went crazy. She loved it. It was her topic of conversation for day and night, and Maria had a feeling she dreamed of it.
And there it was, the second book, the one Trinity had lived, breathed, and dreamed over.
"As soon as the library says it's my turn with it, I'm gonna scream!" she said joyfully.
Maria looked up at the book. The hardcover edition cost nineteen dollars plu tax. She hesitated, and then looked up at the book again with courage. She didn't care. It would only be about 21 dollars. Trinity deserved it. Trinity deserved it. Trinity deserved it.
She repeated it over and over in her mind as she bought it and put it in a bag. As the check-out lady smiled at her. As she walked from the shop.
"Good job," said a kid in the street, with green eyes and messy black hair. He smiled at her, then walked away.
Maria blinked a couple of times as she saw the boy walk threw a wall. What had happened? She blinked again. Perhaps she had just imagined it....
Hi, I know, it was kinda short and kinda weird, but I just thought that it had to be told. Yea, kinda sucky, kinda lame, but it's just one of those things. Maria was a champion. Maria was a wonder-worker. Maria was a mother.
The next chapter is part 2. It starts off kinda different, but you'll understand soon, I promise!
I'm going to talk about a hero who was somewhat ignored, but deserves so much praise. Guesss who? Not Larry the goldfish, but Maria. She saved her daughter's life and put up with a lot of things. Maria, thank you so much. This is your chapter. Oh, and instead of part of Trinity's book, I'm putting a e-mail from Trinity at the begining. Trinity and Collin aren't their real names. No names are real. Hope you don't mind.
Note to diclaimers: me no own.
Hi Angel,
I just read the tenth chapter. I must clarify, I DID NOT PUNCH "COLLIN" THAT HARD!!! Huh, seems funny calling him Collin. Besides, he was being a jerk, kinda. Well, that's just stupid to write a whole and complete e-mail arguing over the past. So I'll continue.
I don't really post reviews, since you asked me not to, I can kinda understand why, but I still read them. Somethings they say are true. Yes, Delorfirith, my dad was an asshole. Nice name. Why did I punch Collin, Lil? See above. And for all, thanks for reading about me!
Don't even think about showing someone this.
Yours truly,
"Trinity" (Hee hee... I like that name better than my own!)
Maria Angeloz was tired, sad, and somewhat fed up. Job interviews, she hated them. She hadn't had a job since Trinity was born. Somehow, 'housewife' didn't sound to impressive on a resume. She hated this, hardly having enough for rent. She had her savings account. And the money Trinity had saved. And Colledge Education money. She tried to erase those thoughts from her mind. She hated the idea of taking money from Trinity, though she had offered it so freely, and she hated the idea of accepting it. Trinity shouldn't have to be saving money for food instead of clothes or skiis or somthing kiddish. Even more, she hatedthe idea of taking money from Trinity's education. She hadn't had a very good one herself.
"Maria, Maria, why do you turn down the money?" Mrs. Angeloz cried, looking at her stubborn daughter, eyes hard but face soft.
It wasn't the best of times for the Angeloz household. They were poor.Mr. Angeloz had been injured and was currently out of work. It was hard to find work for a injured man who was new to the country, not even having a true citizenship yet. And their youngest daughter Maria was just about to graduate. She had to go to colledge. Her mother wanted it that way. She had never gotten past grade five. She wanted her only daughter to be different. Mother of six others (boys), she was a devoting mother. She had always spoiled Maria a bit, being the girl, but now the daughter was rising against it. All her other sons had education from back in Spain, but Maria was refusing.
She wanted to take her, her father, and her mother back to Spain. They were rich in Spain. Not millionaires, but better off. Now they were poor, with her father's new-found disability. She couldn't tyake the money. She couldn't leave her parents. She couldn't. If she left them, what would happen? She was the only one working, her part-time job as a waitress. If she took the money her parents would have nothing left. Life was such bitter decisions.
Small tricklets of tears ran down her cheeks. She missed her dead parents, and her brothers back in Spain. Bitter memories flooded in. Bitter but sweet. They weren't well, but they had been happy. And yet, she could relate to her mother. Family came first. Over all money, friendships, power, health, time, behavior, and suffering, family came first. Those who believed by that were part of it. Those who didn't, though related, weren't.
"You look perfect," her mother gasped.
A girl, in the middle of her twenties, looked down at her crisp white dress, bouquet of flowers at hand. She twirled around in the mirror, like a fairy-tale princess. Her hair shook as she laughed at how perfect everything was turning out. Her parents were no longer poor. Everything had worked out. Everything. She was about to get married.
A man, in his thirties, stepped in. He wore a navy uniform and looked at the two women in happiness. Maria looked over and shrieked, running towards him.
"Martin!" she gasped. "Oh, Martin, you made it! All the way from Spain, and you made it!"
"I brought my family, too," he smiled.
A woman grinned and walked in the room, followed by a young boy and a toddler.
"Juanita! Marrin! Constanza! Oh, i'm thrilled to see you all! Thrilled!"
She immidaitely started playing with her young nephew and niece, while talking to Juanita Angeloz, her youngest brother's new wife.
"It's almost time," her father came in and whispered.
Maria got up and straightened her hair. It was her day, it was her time.
Yet another memory, so many tears, so much laughter. How could something so perfect have gone so wrong? She never would have imagined abuse. It was in movies, not for real. It was too much.
Shopping. She had to take her mind off it somehow. Shopping, Trinity needed some new clothes. That's why she was down here in the first place. Shopping. Shopping. No abuse. Shopping. Shopping. It made an odd chant, circling and singing in her mind.
First Maria entered a clothing store she had neve seen. It was getting cold, and all the clothes Trinity had brought were summer-y, or too worn out to wear. There, in the display window, was a mannequin sporting a very stylish shirt and jeans. Maria looked up at it longingly. It looked like something Trinity would wear.
"Can I help you?" the clerk asked from the desk. Maria looked around.
"No thank you," she replied.
She stole a glance up a the top and filched. A price tag hung loose, with a large sum of money clearly etched on it in big writing. Small to someone else, large to Maria. She could never afford it with their budget. Never in a million years. And yet she looked up at it, hoping that some angel would come out of the sky and hand the outfit to her.
Suddenly, a young girl named Angel did exactly that.
"Who are you?" asked Maria.
"I'm the author of this story," said the Angel.
I really wish I could have done that. I really do. But as author I am somewhat obliged to tell the somewhat truth, and the truth is I didn't even know this was happening at the time.
Maria walked from the store, sad and alone. She hurried into the second hand one next to it, and tried to pick some reasonable outfit. But all the clothes were ugly, summer clothes, or unreparably torn. She had managed to pick up some socially acceptable sweaters and jeans, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt. It was unbearable.
It was cold, and Maria found herself wandering around, wondering where to go. The wind whipped her and lashed her, and she ran for cover in towards the closest shop. She opened the door and entered, reading the name.
Toule's Books
Trinity loved to read. Maria remembered handing her a book, about a year ago. She had looked at it, then read the first chapter. "Mom, I hate it," she said. "It's so Brittish and hard to understand."
Then she read the next and went crazy. She loved it. It was her topic of conversation for day and night, and Maria had a feeling she dreamed of it.
And there it was, the second book, the one Trinity had lived, breathed, and dreamed over.
"As soon as the library says it's my turn with it, I'm gonna scream!" she said joyfully.
Maria looked up at the book. The hardcover edition cost nineteen dollars plu tax. She hesitated, and then looked up at the book again with courage. She didn't care. It would only be about 21 dollars. Trinity deserved it. Trinity deserved it. Trinity deserved it.
She repeated it over and over in her mind as she bought it and put it in a bag. As the check-out lady smiled at her. As she walked from the shop.
"Good job," said a kid in the street, with green eyes and messy black hair. He smiled at her, then walked away.
Maria blinked a couple of times as she saw the boy walk threw a wall. What had happened? She blinked again. Perhaps she had just imagined it....
Hi, I know, it was kinda short and kinda weird, but I just thought that it had to be told. Yea, kinda sucky, kinda lame, but it's just one of those things. Maria was a champion. Maria was a wonder-worker. Maria was a mother.
The next chapter is part 2. It starts off kinda different, but you'll understand soon, I promise!