Adaptation

Snake Hill

Every morning I'd look over the edge, envious. Envious of the "free" people. I'm not saying I'm wasn't free, technically, just bound by my Mother. She wouldn't let me meet other people, I was home schooled, I couldn't even get a job. I have to give her credit though, it was all because she loved me, maybe too much.

Anyways, my story starts with me, sitting alone on the patio. My mother was out on some errands, I was especially upset at the encounter we had earlier that morning.

"Can I go to town," I had said.
"Of course not honey," she said, "we wouldn't want to risk you getting a cold, or robbed...or killed."
Indignantly I lashed back, "Mom that is ridiculous, I'm 34 years old and I have never even been two mile away from this house. You can't keep me forever, it's not normal. It's not ethical. I don't even think it's legal."
"Come on, sweetie, don't be like this we both know you are being irrational," she said with an ingenuine smile, "now I got to go get groceries, I'll be back later."

I'd had it. I stood up grabbed my gray and yellow parka, put on my best sneakers, and ran for the city lights.

I arrived to the place I had longed to go for years. Overwhelmed, I soaked in the beautiful ectasy of the neon lights. I saw flashing signs for pubs, strip clubs, restaraunts and motels. Saddened by my lack of money, I decided to step in to a bar just to take a look.

As I sat down, despite the yelling and roaring laughter, I saw the most beautiful sight my sheltered eyes had ever seen. She had black hair, black eyes, wore a green apron over her white collored blouse. I longed for her attention, but knew not how to receive it. So I just watched her. She was among barbarious drunks and partially naked women desperate for their attention, yet she was pensive, smiling. As she went to a table, an old, hairy, sleezy-looking man grasped her lustfully. Abrubtly, she pulled away, not angered, but composed.

For an hour or so, I watched, plotting to talk to her. Just as I was doing so, and old, beat up women noticed me. She has nappy blonde hair, and must have used a butter knife to have been able to cake on that much make up.

"You lookin' at that waitress?" she shouted, smacking on her gum.
"Uh..Yeah, I guess so," I said, frightened.
"She's way outta yer league, kid," she mocked, "go home."
"You think?" I said, dejected.
"Are you kiddin? She is the prettiest girl in town, and your just a goofy look hick," She said softly, "go home, kid, for your own good."

Despondently, I made my home. I, at that moment, understand why my mother did what she did, so I never her told her what happened.