*Awakening from a Sunday nap, Iya sits up in her bed and arches her back while stretching her arms out and releasing that last bit of sleep in a yawn. Just then she giggles to herself and shakes her head as Deacon Jones crosses her mind. There's just SOMETHING about the way that man says, "AAAmen!" She smiles, rolls her eyes, and shakes her head again, this time at how silly she had been to entertain even the slightest bit of lust for Deacon Jones.
Not exactly ready to start another evening of writing, Iya gets out of bed and goes into her den where she sits on the sofa reading the Sunday paper.* "Maybe something will catch my eye."
*Sunday just aint Sunday w/o a lil gossip. Jasa slide on her Miss Kitty slippers, go to the kitchen and fix a bowl of Sugar Smacks. She then cuddles up on the couch and call her girl Iya.*
"I know she has the low on service today. Especially when it comes to Deacon Jones," she mumbels.
Jasa had a feeling her friend was nuts about him. Even though Jasa thought he was pretty hot, she couldn't get past a few issues about him.... The phone rings as she eagerly wait for Iya to answer...
*Just as Iya finishes jotting down a few useful phrases from the newspaper, the telephone rings.* "That can't be anybody but Jasa." *Looking down at the caller ID, she grins and answers.* "Hey, girl."
Just as she was thinking about hanging up, Iya finally answer the phone....
"Hey girl nothing! Why you take so long to answer the phone? You writing? So, what happen at church this morning and don't start w/, why I wasn't there."
"Don't you worry about how long I take to answer MY phone, Miss I-CAN'T-GET-MY-BLACK-BUTT-OUTTA-THE-BED-TO-GO-TO-CHURCH! You can find out what happened when you buy the sermon CD." *She laughs and puts her notes aside.* "Anyway, what's up?"
"Well, I just wanted to know the latest. You know I have problem w/ claiming to nosiey."
She paused wondering if she tell her friend the real reason why she'd skip church again. Jasa decided to keep the thought to herself...not wanting to upset Iya.
She changed the subject, but her voice went into a different gear also.
"You wanna catch a movie later?"
*Having recently won a small victory over her writer's block, Iya seriously considers declining the movie offer but decides to accept anyway after noticing a slight shift in Jasa's tone.* "Sure. Let me know what time to be ready. It's your turn to pick the movie." *Without waiting for a response, Iya hangs up and reads over the phrases she had scribbled earlier and conjures up a connection between them. She then giggles at the beauty of her creativity.
For years Iya had trudged her way through a job that she hated while her dream of being recognized for her writing gnawed at her. Although her stories had been published in several magazines and on various websites for no pay, she still was not satisfied, so she wrote a series of stories which seemed to take on a life of their own. At their completion she was so proud of them that she put them together and sent them off to several publishers...publishers who sent rejection letter after rejection letter. The gnawing had seemed to get deeper and deeper as Iya filed each letter after coming home from The Hated, her job. Just as she was about to give up on her dream, she received a letter stating that her series had been accepted. Thereafter, she enjoyed a small success that allowed her to live a bit more comfortably while holding onto The Hated but gave her hope that one day she could let go.*
*Sunday had come and gone. It was Monday and back to work. Jasa took her routine, early morning twenty minute ride on the bus downtown. As she pass the beautiful old historic homes and new high-rise apartments, she dreamed of one day living there.
She leaned her head up aganist the windows cool glass, closing her eyes picturing herself coming home to one of the old English style comfortable houses.
The bus ran over a bump and her head gently hit the glass bringing her back to reality. Just then she remembered that after work, she had to stop by the store and pick up a few items. The thought of lugging bags on the bus always piss her off, but Jasa was still greatful for her marketing job at the Advertising firm [thoguh she only made minimum wage] and the fact that she even had a tiny studio apartment to call home.
She knew or had of so many people losing their job or who had become homeless.
Her place was nothing like the new fancy loft apartments that were going up all over town. The old brick building sat right, smack in the middle of a neighborhood that was quickly deteriorating. Burn down homes, empty lots used for dumping, and drug dealers and crackhead prostitutes seem to be at every street corner. Every other week something didn't work properly in her apartment. Once the buildings old radiators didn't work for two weeks in January. She hated living there, but with her income she really couldn't afford anything better.
Jasa really wanted to go to college, but was terrified of felling. She loved designing clothes and wore some of the oddest t-shirts, jean skirts, headwraps and jewelry. All hand made. Every bit of extra money she'd have went towards buying dye, paint, assorments of beads & schells and scraps of material at Wal-Mart.
Sometimes she would go to the Second hand store and buy old sheets to use. Her unique gear would cause people to stare with disbelief or in awe not having a clue of what they had been created from.
Jasa wanted to take up business and a few designing classes, but always remembered the hard time she had getting through school. Personal issues dealing with living a dysfunctional home growing up disrupted her ability to concentrate and function smoothly like other children.
Being set back twice, she still was determine to finish through highschool dispite the ridicule she faced at home. Jasa's always felt her commical attitude and b/c most of the teachers liked her, was the reason she finally graudated. She never gave herself credit for anything.
Now 26, the thought of going back to school made her stomach turn, yet the whole idea of wanting more out of life gnawed at her, even more so.
She knew education would be the key to open the door of opportunity.
The bus came to it's destination. Jasa tied her scarf tighter around her neck and plopped her colorful knit hat over her long curly hair. She stepped off the bus being greeted by March's late winter snow flakes.*
"Another day, another dollar," she thought heading for the office building where she worked.
"Miss Rigor! Miss Rigor!!!" *Iya sees her know-it-all student out of the corner of her eye but ignores him, trying to give others a chance to answer her question. Once the question is answered, she turns to the irritation.* "Dear, I really appreciate your enthusiasm and applaud your grasp of the subject, but try not to yell out in class so that you are not sent to the office with a referral." *Although her face wears a smile, her narrowed eyes let the student know that his actions are not in the least bit acceptable, so he sits back in his chair and pouts as Iya turns back to the rest of the class and continues the lesson.*
***
*Mondays are always the most frustrating for Iya, for it is the day of groundwork, the day she builds a foundation for the week's activities in her high school English classes.* "I...need...a drink." *She pulls herself into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator from which she retrieves a bottle of cheap wine. Already waiting for her when she reaches the kitchen table is a blue wine glass. She seats herself and pours the wine as she prepares herself for her Monday night ritual wind-down.*
"Excuse me," the toothless woman walks up to Jasa as she gets ready to enter the small cafe` next to her office building.
*The woman reeked w/ urine. Her hair was matted and she had on sandles w/ socks a coat that looked to be two sizes to small.*
"Could please spare some change, Miss? Anything will do."
*Jasa usually said no to beggers, but for some reason she was moved to give the woman a dollar.*
"Thank you, Miss. God bless you." She smiles revealing gums and rotten teeth.
'Dang. She's probably a drug addict,' Jasa thought.
*Jasa went into the cafe`. She loved the little place and every Monday was her treat day. Spending almost three dollars on her favorite flavor coffe and fudge brownie before she went home, Jasa considered that a splurge. The only other person who made brownies that she crave, was old Sista Bell from church. Every now and then she would whip up a batch for Jasa, only to talk about how greedy she was later.
Jasa paid her no mind. She had sat up and gossip w/ Sista Bell so much, that she knew by the way she talked about everyone else, Jasa was probably a victim of yip yap also.*
"No, Mama, I don't have a date for the weekend...No, Mama, I go to the grocery store for food not men...No, Mama...Mama...Mama! I have to go." *Iya rolls her eyes and hangs up her telephone which she would rather throw across the room in her ongoing disgust for her mother's insistence that she MUST have a man in her life. Although she knows her mother means well, the neverending man sermon still makes her skin crawl. She has told her mother several times that she is open to having a man in her life but she refuses to comb the streets for Mr. Right. Her mother's reply is always that Iya should at least put herself in Mr. Right's way so that he can find her.* "Ugh, Mama!"
Deacon Jones was dreading board meeting at church this evening. "It's hard for me to bite my tongue knowing what I do." He knows eventually the truth will come out. Although right now he's more concerned about going to the Skybar after the meeting.
*After grading the day's essays, Iya lies across her bed and thinks about her last conversation with her mother. Do I seem THAT desperate, that lonely? Maybe Mama just needs to get a life and leave mine alone...Alone...The word seems to take on a life of its own, filling the room with its presence. In an attempt to escape the word, Iya quickly gets up from the bed and rushes out of the bedroom and into the bathroom where she runs a tub of hot water, strips herself down to nothing, and sinks into relaxation.*
From Sunday to Sunday (Our First RP)
