#tothink

“Blane”

“Blane, eh-em,” slightly more annoyed.

Still, no response, the girl was looking out the window, as if thoughts were loud, and she simply couldn’t hear the woman’s voice over the sheer sound of them.

“Blane!”

Snap. Now, her head was in the passage that was created between the woman’s mouth and her own ears, clicked into place as if part of a Rubik’s cube.

“I don’t take kindly to yelling, I simply don’t like to be forced to do it.” Curtly, as if she was still yelling, ironically, even though her voice was quiet.

“I’m sorry, ma’am”

“You can put your things in here,” The woman gestured to the closet, small but sufficient, and a large bureau painted white. How pretty must it have been before it was whited out, Blane thought fleetingly.

“You know how much I appreciate this job, I hope. I want to experience America, and this is my chance to do it. Plus, your children seem so sweet. It will be a joy to work with them,” Blane said, with a wide, genuine smile. The words were almost cliché to the woman. She had heard them countless times from previous nannies that didn’t work out for one reason or another.

“You’re welcome, Blane. I hope this works out.” She this time, was genuine herself, as she truly did, and not just because she wanted it, but because she wanted consistency for the kiddos.Walking out of the room, the woman turned and smiled with closed lips. Her muscles in her face were turning the corners of her mouth down even as her brain and heart tried to get her face to convey her meaning.

This is it. Blane thought. This is my new life. She looked around. There was a patio door made of squares of glass separated by white paneling. Outside, there was a yard, mostly kept except for patches. There was a pergola with triangular-leaved vines twining up it. Beautiful. She could hear an announcer of some type in the distance, even through the walls of the downstairs bedroom. Blane sat on the bed and smoothed her white linen pants. She seemed to blend into the room, her white pants, her fair skin, her blonde hair, almost white itself. She seemed, from a fly on the wall perspective, she was on the brink of something, teetering on the edge, but unsure of what next step to make. She glanced around, unsure herself of what to do. She went to her suitcase and pulled out a notebook. There, she wrote:

Day 1, America.

12.30.18

I feel as if everyone I have encountered is on edge today. Maybe it is the date, maybe it is the weather. I just can’t imagine that this is how people are all the time. They are either on edge or they are cut off from everyone, each in their own invisible sphere walking around, being sure not to bump spheres with someone else, scared. Then there was the aggressive ones. They weren’t aggressive in their actions though, more in their way. They would get all close to me with no patience to get by me, but not really realize or maybe not care that I was affected by them. How strange the feelings that came over me. They are foreign to me as I am foreign to this place.

I tried to smile, make friends with people around me on the plane, but no, everyone is as I stated. Everyone except for the woman who sat next to me. She had dark eyes, but when she smiled they gleamed with friendliness. She was friendly yes, but when there was any silence between us the air became taught and murky, an uncomfortable tension, so she continued to talk nonsensical small talk to fill it. That was until I said what I would be doing in America. She was short with me then. I didn’t understand it.

I think it must be the date. The holidays are strange. In between Christmas and New Year’s, everyone is exhausted and anxious. This must be it.

On a lighter note, I made it! I’m here. I have a comfy bed! I have a job! The kids really do seem sweet, and I will be an influence on their life. What a joy, what a responsibility!

Here goes, I am ready. I will write more tomorrow. I want to go into town before the night is through.

Blane

12.31.18

Day two, morning, America

Last night, my footsteps went to the beat of the music playing over, well I guess it must have been speakers embedded in the actual sidewalk. How strange. It’s like wherever I go, there is music playing. I love music. It is one of the true joys in my life, but music that I don’t choose, wherever I go?! It is so distracting! Maybe my sense of hearing is stronger than I thought? Or maybe, maybe it really is loud and obnoxious. 

I don’t understand peoples’ need here for constant input, input, input. Plus, I like to choose what is fed to my brain. Good music is nourishing, but this - it was as if the people surrounding me didn’t even notice what they were hearing. I tried to clear my mind as much as possible here and enjoy seeing the sites.

I hoped for cobblestone, for people being friendly- what I got was pavement, strip malls, and a sense of dense… isolation. I returned worn out and immediately fell into a somehow simultaneously deep and restless sleep. I’ll write more again this evening. I won’t start work until the new year. See you soon, journal.

Blane

This post is the 2nd of the “Blane Series”. For an explanation of the story, please see Blane Series 1. Share your thoughts below!