The Meaning of Love

Emma

And like John kransiski said "When you're lucky enough to meet your one person, then life takes a turn for the best. It can't get better than that." And that's today's episode of "all things love".

My sister says she never understands why I listen to these podcasts but in reality they keep me going and make everyday seem interesting to explore.

That was today's episode of "all things love", my favourite podcast of all time. It's anchored by a couple "Jane and Lewis". They are literarily the best couple I know too. 

Even though I have never seen them, their chemistry together and how they speak makes me love them a lot. 

I interact with them by commenting on every episode of their podcast, I can say we are familiar. More like, I am a part of their podcast family.

I spat the toothpaste in the sink, rinsing my mouth, as the previous episode of "all things love" started playing.

I stared in the mirror, noticing the new pimples that had appeared overnight on my skin. The products were not working, sometimes I wonder if any product even works.

I was really tempted to pop it but I didn't want the spots, that would be left on my brown skin.

I packed my black hair with a band into a bun. It was almost time for my shift at the restaurant and I didn't want to be late like every other day.

I hurried in the bathroom, the water was so cold that one could freeze in it. The heater wasn't working and our land lord had refused to replace it.

That was the problem, when you lived in a house  like this with lots of tenants and a useless landlord.

I hurriedly put on my pants and top, picked my bag and rushed into the living room.

"Good morning mum."

"You're late again today."

Maria Baker, my ever hardworking mother. I have literarily never seen her take a break, in the 22 years of my existence. 

It got worse after father passed away, some years ago. She had been taking responsibility of everything and I have only been able to help with the little I make from the restaurant.

"I woke up late."

She sat at the dinning table, spreading butter onto her French toast. She was already dressed in her scrubs and ready to go to work.

"I have a double shift at the clinic today."

"You work so much, you need to rest sometimes mum. You have had shifts through out this week."

She passed me the butter, pouring in coffee in her cup. 

"The bills are not going to pay themselves, you know."

"If only you would have taken the scholarship." She said, standing to drop her plates in the sink.

She had never stopped talking about the scholarship I had rejected and how it could have changed our life.

After high school, I had gotten a scholarship to study an engineering course, at one of the Ivy League schools but I had rejected it and on the basis of it not being what I want to do.

I had always dreamt of being a writer, an author of one of the most read books in history and maybe one day be number 1 best selling author in the New York Times.

The thing about dreams like that, for someone like me is how far fetched it is. I had taken up the job at the restaurant, to save up for a degree I actually want and while at it write a book of my own.

"I am trying my best. The restaurant..."

"How much does the restaurant pay? Minimum wage? There is so much bills to pay and you're stuck in these dream of yours."

Mother picked her bag, ready to leave for work. I dropped the toast I was eating, having lost my appetite.

I stood from where I was sitting, moving towards her as she made her way for the door.

"I just need you to trust me, just this time."

She turned to look at me, the same look she had given me, the day I had told her that I wasn't accepting the scholarship.

"People like us take advantage of opportunities presented to us, we don't go in search of dreams and what not. That's life, my dear."

"Your sister is coming home this weekend," She added.

She walked out of the door, before I could make any statement.

I was used to all of it by now and maybe it wouldn't even hurt so much, if I wasn't stuck on the first page of the book I was writing.

I was starting to prove her right and sometimes I wished I accepted the scholarship too.

I picked up my bag, walking out of the door in order to catch up with the bus.

I rushed down the two storey building. It was a building with about 20units. Our next door neighbour had just moved out, because he couldn't deal with the landlord not repairing any broken thing in the house.

We have lived in the apartment, for as long has I could remember. We probably would be voted "longest tenant" if there was an award of such.

Apart from the occasional noises from some apartments. I loved living there, it's the only home I have known and the neighbourhood, although can be crazy, wasn't entirely bad.

Our apartment building, was in the middle of the neighbourhood, surrounded by other houses which had also been there for over a decade.

It was an old neighbourhood, Probably one of the oldest in the town. It was majorly an area with mostly immigrants and that explains why most shops around were family owned businesses.

"Emma dear, have a nice day at work," Mrs Lopez said. 

"Good morning, Mrs Lopez," I said smiling.

Mrs Lopez could also be considered for longest tenant award. She had also lived here for as long as I could remember.

She lives in with two of her cats, she is in her 50's and lives a stereotypical life.

She was always watering her plants by the time I was leaving for work. She retired from her  consulting job already, goes out with her friends to party every Friday night. 

She is always reading a book by the time I get back from work, in front of her apartment. You could say she is just literarily living her best life. 

Although, sometimes, I wonder if she is ever lonely because she had never been married or had a child but mother always says happiness is subjective, so, maybe she is.

I hurried into work about 8:15am. I was supposed to resume by 8am.

"You're late again," mark said, as I made my way in. I wore my apron, dropping my bag.

"I know, I know. Is James around?" 

"No."

"Thank God."

My boss would have probably fired me if he knew I was late again. It's my third time this week. 

Mark was an high school student, working over the summer holiday at the restaurant. Sometimes I wonder why he chose to spend his whole summer in a restaurant, rather than have fun in some camp or doing some other interesting stuff. 

"Table five isn't served yet."

"I will take their order now." 

I walked towards the table, adjusting the apron, I had tied which was refusing to fit.

"Excuse me? What can I get you?"

The newspaper he had been reading, was dropped next to him on the table. 

It was a young handsome man, staring at me as I got lost in his brown eyes, full brows and well carved jaw. 

"Coffee please."

"You said?"

I realised I had been paying attention to his face rather than what he was saying.

"Coffee, I will take coffee first."

"Alright, I will get that to you now."