Alone

Alone

T.Jain

"Miss you, dear! Got to go! Behave and listen to mother! Tell her that I called!"

"Oh no! She'll be all teary again! Anyway, bye Dad! And watch out for your seasickness pills! They are in the left pocket of the suitcase!"

"Where?"

"The left pocket, Dad! The left..."

The last words faltered into the mouthpiece just as the phone wailed loudly in her ear.

"Damn it!" she cried and slammed the receiver back into its dull existence.

The Fifteen-year-old turned around waspishly and walked out of the room with an impatient pace following her. The delicate folds of her eyelids narrowed as indignation rippled her brows.

"Mom!" the voice echoed in the hallway as the kitchen awaited reception and finally submitted to the ears of a wary looking woman who carried the weight of a rather plump belly and the refined impression of a maudlin housewife.

She stepped into the kitchen cautiously avoiding the little water puddles that evenly carpeted the floor's frame.

"Weren't you supposed to be in bed?" Mrs. Sanders faced her daughter, mannerfully wiping her hands. "You are not well. I got you off school today Sally, because Dr. Morrison strictly..."

"Mom! Don't call me that! Ursula is quite a good name and I am quite comfortable with it. Reducing it to Sally or Lilly does no good and they even sound completely ridiculous!" She grimaced, "Besides I wanted to talk about the phone. The thing's going static over and over. I was talking to Daddy and it just went..."

Mrs. Sanders seemed to have been calmly swallowing the complaints until the word 'Daddy' had been propped in the conversation. She gave Ursula one pathetic stare and simultaneously choked on a brave sob.

"Aw... mom, I didn't mean to upset you." She reached out for her mother closing her arms around her and whispered carefully brushing each word against her left ear, "I know you care about Dad getting sick on the ship. But he just went yesterday and you must hold on or poor old Ursula will cry..."

Ursula, reluctantly but out of sheer desperation, blinked and pouted lovingly, wrenching the wrinkled frown on her mother's face to carve a smile that matched her own.

"O.k.! O.k.!" Mrs. Sanders cried out, surrendering. "But someone is not coming out of her bed until I come back from the mall and she has to be very very careful." she spoke in blended notes of strictness and seriousness, "I wouldn't leave you all alone, but I have to attend to this job application... Sally! Didn't I tell you to get rid of that! Why do you still carry it around?"

Mrs. Sanders was pointing a rattling finger in the direction of a wary tattered doll, one eye short of exact sight and a crayoned smile bearing her, clutched safely against Ursula's breast.

"Mom", she retorted, "Don't start over, now! We have already had this little discussion. And I don't want you to keep sacking Charice in cabinets or in the attic."

"But look at her! It's not even a Barbie, for heaven's sake!" Mrs. Sanders protested, "you've been carrying her around for ages. And mind you girl, you are reaching sixteen and I am sure that this certainly is no great exhibition of maturity."

The bleating persisted until was stranded as Mrs. Sanders, now dressed prosaically and meticulously tidied, shifted towards the doorway and swerved around to meet her daughter's eye.

"Okay, just keep the stupid thing!" she cried with unintentional volume. "I am taking the Beetle to the mall.