A Day in the Life by Jade Jones
Authors: Jade Jones
Tags: United States, Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Urban, African American, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), Urban Life
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1
The daylight streaming through the curtains of my tiny 9x9 bedroom woke me from a peaceful slumber. I sat up in my twin size mattress and swung my feet around the edge of the bed. Massaging the nape of my neck, I reminded myself that I had to get a new mattress. An aching sensation resided in the back of my calve muscles. Last night I had made a killing but my body was suffering drastically. Three years of stripping had ultimately taken its toll on my poor body. My knees were going bad from dancing on the hard wooden floors of the strip club's stage. I had to take a muscle relaxer before every fruitful night of working at the Gentlemen's Persuasion.
I padded barefoot into the small kitchen. I lived in Morris Black housing developments, and even though the projects were ghetto and grimy, I tried my best to keep my little unit "roach-free" and as clean as I could. Living here was temporary. I was slowly stacking my paper and I vowed to move out of Cleveland, and maybe even out of Ohio, before the year was over.
After opening the refrigerator and peering inside, I realized I would probably have to stop at the McDonald's on 93rd to get a bite to eat. Truthfully, I despised fast food, but my food stamps wouldn't come until the first.
After taking a quick shower (since the hot water usually turned cold after about four minutes), I threw on some sweatpants, a black tank top and some tennis shoes. I swept my hair up into a lazy ponytail. Usually, my appearance meant everything, but since I planned on going through the drive-thru I was very unenthusiastic about looking good.
"What's up with you?" one of my neighbors asked as I briskly walked past him towards the parking lot.
Normally, I was friendly, but I didn't have anything to say to the men around here. He lived in the projects just like me. What could he offer? Money talked louder than words in my opinion, so a conversation could never exist between the two of us, especially if he wasn't doing anything for me. Sorry, that was just the stripper mentality talking.
"Fuck you then," he spat. Obviously his pride was wounded, but I paid his rudeness no mind as I climbed into my "beater with a heater".
I had been pushing this stick shift 1992 Buick Regal for the past four years, and for the past three years, I had been promising myself that I would get something newer. My back tires knocked as I pulled out the driveway and made a left. I had been meaning to get those struts fixed a while ago.
As expected the line at McDonalds damn near stopped at the entrance. I was here, so I'd just have to wait. I scrolled through my cell phone to play some tunes, since the Buick didn't have a radio. Often times, I found myself humming just to offer some type of melody. I had been meaning to get a CD player from Walmart.
Ten minutes later, I finally made it to the intercom.
"Welcome to McDonalds. You can go ahead with your order," a familiar voice said.
"Let me get a double cheese burger, no onions, and two apple pies."
There was muffled noises in the background before the male voice said, "That'll be two dollars pull to the first window."
I grimaced at the sight of Kevin Hardaway. He was clad in his McDonalds uniform and had the nerve to have his hat pulled sideways.
"Yeah, I knew that was you, Lydia" he said. "You order the same shit every time. Don't worry about it, I got you." I watched as he fished in his pocket, extracted two wrinkly one dollar bills and popped them into the cash register.
"Wow, Kev. Paying for my McDonalds. Seriously?" I teased. "If you want to pay for a meal, take me to Red Lobster."
He chuckled. "Girl you know how long it'll take me to save these punk ass paychecks up to take you to Red Lobster?"
Kevin and I had dated briefly throughout high school, but after we graduated we obviously decided upon different routes. He went on to attend Cleveland State University and I...well...it was obvious that I had chosen an entirely different path.
Kevin had been
The daylight streaming through the curtains of my tiny 9x9 bedroom woke me from a peaceful slumber. I sat up in my twin size mattress and swung my feet around the edge of the bed. Massaging the nape of my neck, I reminded myself that I had to get a new mattress. An aching sensation resided in the back of my calve muscles. Last night I had made a killing but my body was suffering drastically. Three years of stripping had ultimately taken its toll on my poor body. My knees were going bad from dancing on the hard wooden floors of the strip club's stage. I had to take a muscle relaxer before every fruitful night of working at the Gentlemen's Persuasion.
I padded barefoot into the small kitchen. I lived in Morris Black housing developments, and even though the projects were ghetto and grimy, I tried my best to keep my little unit "roach-free" and as clean as I could. Living here was temporary. I was slowly stacking my paper and I vowed to move out of Cleveland, and maybe even out of Ohio, before the year was over.
After opening the refrigerator and peering inside, I realized I would probably have to stop at the McDonald's on 93rd to get a bite to eat. Truthfully, I despised fast food, but my food stamps wouldn't come until the first.
After taking a quick shower (since the hot water usually turned cold after about four minutes), I threw on some sweatpants, a black tank top and some tennis shoes. I swept my hair up into a lazy ponytail. Usually, my appearance meant everything, but since I planned on going through the drive-thru I was very unenthusiastic about looking good.
"What's up with you?" one of my neighbors asked as I briskly walked past him towards the parking lot.
Normally, I was friendly, but I didn't have anything to say to the men around here. He lived in the projects just like me. What could he offer? Money talked louder than words in my opinion, so a conversation could never exist between the two of us, especially if he wasn't doing anything for me. Sorry, that was just the stripper mentality talking.
"Fuck you then," he spat. Obviously his pride was wounded, but I paid his rudeness no mind as I climbed into my "beater with a heater".
I had been pushing this stick shift 1992 Buick Regal for the past four years, and for the past three years, I had been promising myself that I would get something newer. My back tires knocked as I pulled out the driveway and made a left. I had been meaning to get those struts fixed a while ago.
As expected the line at McDonalds damn near stopped at the entrance. I was here, so I'd just have to wait. I scrolled through my cell phone to play some tunes, since the Buick didn't have a radio. Often times, I found myself humming just to offer some type of melody. I had been meaning to get a CD player from Walmart.
Ten minutes later, I finally made it to the intercom.
"Welcome to McDonalds. You can go ahead with your order," a familiar voice said.
"Let me get a double cheese burger, no onions, and two apple pies."
There was muffled noises in the background before the male voice said, "That'll be two dollars pull to the first window."
I grimaced at the sight of Kevin Hardaway. He was clad in his McDonalds uniform and had the nerve to have his hat pulled sideways.
"Yeah, I knew that was you, Lydia" he said. "You order the same shit every time. Don't worry about it, I got you." I watched as he fished in his pocket, extracted two wrinkly one dollar bills and popped them into the cash register.
"Wow, Kev. Paying for my McDonalds. Seriously?" I teased. "If you want to pay for a meal, take me to Red Lobster."
He chuckled. "Girl you know how long it'll take me to save these punk ass paychecks up to take you to Red Lobster?"
Kevin and I had dated briefly throughout high school, but after we graduated we obviously decided upon different routes. He went on to attend Cleveland State University and I...well...it was obvious that I had chosen an entirely different path.
Kevin had been
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