On Her Own ...

She sat staring at the walls. What does one do next ? Get up and do a dance ? Too Debra Messing. Hmmm... Maybe she should just open the windows n start yelling. That would certainly leave a mark on some memories. To quadruple happiness, news is shared with people who care. She couldn't think of any. The thought made her sad. And that she was sad at the time when most would be fainting with joy, made her sadder.

She got up and walked over the the mirror. She wouldn't be winning any beauty contests, but she sure knew how to make heads turn when she wanted to. Her hair n eyes were secondary only to the confidence in her strut. Her spunk was her virtue n weapon, getting her through one crisis after another, like a quarterback barreling through the football field of life. And now in she liked what she saw in her reflection. She was her own person. No favors, no support, no relatives, no friends. Just her and her desire for a better life. She was a realist. She didn't begrudge anyone , their indifference. Everyone looked out for themselves. Some just had to be mean or selfish in order to get what they want. That just made them pathetic. She'd learned a long while ago to rise above that. Words, actions they all became meaningless after a while. OH! she knew there were good people out there. They'd be kind, ask her how she was doing, laugh when she made a wise crack, put up with her stubborn wisecracks, even respected her and she knew most of that was coz she was good at whatever she put her mind to. They didn't Feel for her. It wasn't that wasn't that she wasn't to be blamed. Having been bitten and poisoned before, she kept her distance from everyone. Better safe than sorry. She had her plate full anyway. Working, studying, then her part time, earning a degree and now her residency. Life was certainly not easy but she kept it as simple as she could. She knew they saw her as a bitch at times but damned if she wasn't going to be a successful bitch !!

The TV was still on. The celebrations of the moment were over, the people from afar away who'd shared their false joy with her.The commercials had come on. She looked down as she opened her palm and looked at the lottery ticket. A show of gratitude from a poor father whose baby she had delivered last week. With nothing else to give, the compulsive gambler had given her his weekly ticket. She'd tried to give it back to him but he'd said, he was sharing his luck with her. Maybe she could do something good with it for even if he won he would just waste it all away. Besides, he said, she deserved far more. She'd laughed at the thought that her luck could bring her anything without slogging for it first. But the man's gesture had touched her, renewing her faith in humanity. That he was willing to part with his cherished ticket to gift her with something meant that all was not lost in him either. Someday he would see the light. And That had made her happier than This ticket.

She'd have to go tomorrow to claim her prize. The thought exhausted her. Soon, life would change. People would claim she was their best friend. They'd swarm like bees to get a ride on the wave. Men would come a knocking to woo her. Relatives who had disowned her would renew old ties, leering at her for a show of gratitude. All the attention and glamor might to to her head. No ! She didn't want any of that. Being rich changed people, made them drunk on luxury. But then, wouldn't it be good to have an easy life. Just once, to be able to have people around her. To afford all that she'd ever craved, including love ! No matter what anyone said, money did buy happiness. For life was so much easier then, even if was all just a mirage of wealth ....

She grasped the ticket tight, picking up her coat, she walked out of her apartment. Her pace increased as she ran down the stairs. Opening the building's gate, a cold blast of air hit her face renewing her resolve. As she walked down the street, she came across one of the many faces that graced her day with a friendly hello. A homeless lady, who lived in a cardboard house beside the garbage dump. No matter how badly her clothes reeked, her face always glowed in the pride of being independent. She always threw a hearty hello along everyone one's way with a word or two of concern. In her mind, she'd named this woman " bright lady ", and it was in This lady's lap she dropped the piece of paper. She kept walking, thinking about the next day and saying a silent prayer that the money does Some good to the Bright Lady in her last days.

Happiness like all else in Her life, would be earned....