The Waiting Girl

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She sits upon the sunken couch with it's worn springs that creak and groan with every move she makes. The room is dark and filled with smoke from cigarettes that seem to be perpetually upon the lips of her relatives. The boiling pots upon the stove do not help the smoke, nor does the smells from the kitchen help mask the putrid smell that comes from the tobacco. The common area of the house is dark, with the open door only throwing a sliver of light upon the floor of the entrance way. It is quite gloomy and yet she feels almost at peace. Is it because this very scene is one that un folds every time she gets together with this family? Perhaps it's because the noise that comes from the relatives chatter, and the clinks and clanks of the stove gives her the cover she needs to retreat within her own world. She doesn't overly care much for these relatives. They always seem to either ignore her or treat her as if she is a damaged flower in need of over coddling. If it were in her control, she would not be coming to see these people at all. She only abides by it for fear of her father's wrath and with the knowledge that after this mandatory gathering is over, she can go to her other grandparents and enjoy their company all the more for it. An uncle appears beside her, just as she feels its safe to retreat within her own mind and ignore the lot of them altogether. She feels he means well, but his constant chatter and concern only makes her despise his company. She feels almost uneasy in his presence, and whether that's for his over concern or something else, she does not know. She sits and listens, answering appropriately when necessary, and waits for him to finish so she can get up and hide away outside. It's somewhat quieter outside, even with the sounds of the passing traffic on the nearby busy street. It's the times she's able to get away that she longs for the most. The solitude doesn't last, for an overbearing relative or another will come flouncing towards her with a scathing tongue for her wrecklessness. As if it is somehow wreckless to step ten feet out of the house and around it's corner where her other cousins will not see her. She sighs and follows the adult back into the house, takes the disgusting food handed to her and tries to bit her tongue against the remarks she herself would like to make. Only a few more hours, she thinks to herself. Only a few more hours and the freedom of a family that truly loves her awaits. --- This is a short story, based in truth. This is my own recollection of my childhood, and one of the last times I can remember visiting one side of my family.