Monday quotes

             It was summer. The sun emitted bright, golden rays on the park. The benches shone as it reflects under the sky’s gaze like a metal placed near a reflecting mirror and like a nosy fellow, the daffodils peered through the flowerbeds down the parking space area and glinted with its yellow derm appealing to the by-passers. Mandy Jone sat, her palms enclosed in Mark’s. She beamed as little Pauline swirled her tiny waist in her Cybron James new design - a flannel gown. She had a daffodil in her hair, at the base as Mandy heard her whine - shoving off his brother, Paul like a narcissist with her white glazed shoes stamping the green-bodied field.

          “Kids are quite funny, full of love, fun and tricks.” Mandy’s heart throbbed, startled by the voice which has become part of her rigmarole for her to attend to, today. She was still there, on a park bench 4ft far from theirs. The young, slender, fluent interviewer with glassy, bluish and glistening eyes despite being under spectacles with black lens. She had tiny freckles strewed on her pale-grey face coupled with red spots as though it inflamed under the slightly burning sun. Her moist toes with bit of twigs lying on it revealed itself, the pink sandals was quite princess-like like those of Barbie in Disney world; the TV cartoons Pauline would leap for with delight. She glanced at her, awaiting one of her questions.

           “How old is Paul now. He seem intelligent and reserved for a young child of his age. “ the interviewer asked, grasping her note-pad from the bench.

          “Oh! Paul is nine years and Pauline is five. He has always been that way. You should see his sketches and the boxes he makes with cardboards - he makes flowery designs on them. His room is rife with poster colors and sketchpads as though he’s a professional artist. His classmates call him “The creative”. Darling, what footballer did Paul tried to sketch then?” Mandy Jones replied, her eyes pouring over the pale, pink lips of her husband - his beard clustered face turned at her while he gazed dreamily.

             “Yes it was Lionel Messi from Barcelona.“ 

             “Interesting. I’m assured he would become much more creative in his teens and juvenility. Pauline is brilliant and sweet too. When I get married, I sure will like to have beautiful kids cause there’s great joy in having one’s offerings.” 

              “Wholly.” Mandy Jones beamed. The serene ambiance of the Grisdene Park soothes her soul. There were oak-trees down the field with bright acorns and loved leaves stuck to their birches and slightly broken boughs. The kids were done playing, little Pauline crouched on the mat she had spread an hour ago as she claimed her gown with Paul facing her. They were gazing so hard at the sightseers who were there for a family picnic perhaps - a woman chided her young kids with a slight makeup on her face and her lips smeared with aubergine color lipstick, her shoulders were drooping as though an heavy load was placed on it. A young youth held a crying baby whose diapers were huge and slimy - little baby had heed nature’s call. A man in mufti spoke with the Park Manager, his right hand reclining on the latter’s shoulder. 

                 “Where did you and Mr Jones meet? At the mart? In a park? While attending a class? In a college? Or someone matchmake you both? “ she giggled. Mandy Jones chuckled, her voice was cracking like one who had sang for hours and had lost his voice or the vitality to raise her lips and render a rendition. The young lady - Jane scribbled fast, her pen made spluttering noises as it touched the notepad.

    

           “I met him after my divorce. My first marriage was a mess like a pile of garbage ,  tall and not disposed for months.” Mandy Jones answered, her gaze still on the kids. 

               “You had a first marriage? Sorry it didn’t went well. It was worse, wasn’t it? What made it a mess? What went wrong and how did you gather courage to leave him.”

                 “The jerk had anger issues, he acted like one suffering from dementia. I lost two babies in a row. I didn’t abort it but he made me lose my babies. We argued so many times even over trivial things. I end up being beaten and traumatized, he kicked my belly so hard till I lost my first child.” Mandy Jones said. She remembered that day she realized Bonny was a death trap and their marriage, a decoy.

              It was Friday, an hour after she had made strawberry glazed doughnuts with sparkling cookies strewed on silver trays. Her apron was moist, smeared by flour and the repugnant odor of eggs. She was settling down on their fluffy cushion when Bonny entered with a stern face through the glass door. His bloodshot eyes flared like flaming fire being ignited and sweat soiled the armpits of his smelly shirt whose sleeves were rolled up. 

           “Mandy! Why will you attend your friend’s birthday party without informing me. Why will you go meet the doctor behind me?” he piped with his fist, closed like he could give a punch right away.

  

            “I ... I ... I tried to tell you but you shoved me off. Remember two nights ago when you were about to take a nap and I tapped you but you turned your back and asked for peace z “ Mandy stuttered, her palms clutching her smeared apron.

          “So!” he yelled. Mandy felt prickled, his feet worked on her belly and face while he punched hard like he was in a gym, attending to a punching-bag. The doctor affirmed it later, she was carrying her baby but she lost it - their first offspring. He had flared up for a bit, became sorry but it never ended. When they lost the second child again, she was unwavering - realizing it was either she die and cutting short the lives of young and innocent ones was cruel of her to do.

             “Ma’am? Ma’am?” Mandy jolted, startled by the voice again. She glared with her eyes now glassy like a stream of tears will pour out in massive. She felt Mark’s palm clutched hers more.

              “Yes. He was a jerk.” Mandy mumbled.

              “You left him after being traumatized for how many years?”

                “Two years. I never knew I could for I feared what the society will say. My mother and granny were against my decision but realized afterwards that they would never see me give birth if I continue being a wife to a monster like Bonny.” 

              

                “It’s really encouraging to see a women make such great decision. Most women are afraid to at times, they fear being stigmatized. They end up losing their lives at times. It’s saddening. How did you and Mr Mark Jones meet and how long have you been in Florida?” Jane asked.

                  “I was his new neighbor when I came to start a new life here in Florida. I didn’t found a new life alone, I found something more better - love. We share so many beliefs, had less contradictions and he was sweet. We both love Beethoven. I made a right choice this time. I was certain and I could even see my mother’s face gleam.” Mandy smiled.

               “I love you.” Mark said, smiling.

               “So sweet a tale to listen to” Mandy heard young Jane say. She turned her back, redolent of the past and how she feel blessed after three years of living in grief and regrets. Pauline stood, her palms reclining on her waist as she walked further to their space. The new family were gushing over treats and cocktails offloaded from a woolen basket, revealed by the young youth. The lady was changing diapers, rocking the baby to sleep as though she needed to be reminded of they being in a park and not their house.

             Mandy’s face glimmered, sighting Pauline walking towards her. She stopped, brought out two daffodils which were a little bit crumpled but hasn’t lose its light and beauty totally. Pauline handed it over, avoiding the interviewer’s gaze like it’d do her harm. She smiled shyly, dropping the daffodils in the extended palm of her mother, Mandy. Mandy smiled, clasping the flowers and holding them closely to her nose. She took a long breath, peered through the flower like one appalled and exhilarated by the scent it gave. Mark stared dreamily, calling over to Paul whose shirt with Florida inscribed on it was now rumpled.

           “They scent well just as my life does now. The fragrance allures just as my life is full of sweetness, never expected or planned. They’re bright and amorous as Mark love is to me.” She proclaimed, eyes closed and the daffodils held to her chest.

            They all stared in oblivion, beaming and unsure of what to utter.

            They never will know, how gleeful I’m and how I feel so good she thought, giving no reply to the Interviewer’s bid.