The Monster (My Best Friend Eminem, My Husband Marshall Mathers)

Chapter four

Chapter four

            “Come on!” I grunted traffic jams in Detroit are worse than the ones in New York. The traffic moved like ants as I was a few minutes late from picking up the kids from school. The light turned green and people step on their gas instantly as if they were feeling the same anxiety as I was.

            The light suddenly turned red as I stopped short. “Oh come on!” I shouted. I leaned on the back of my chair. I slumped; I go through this every day. Sometimes it feels the light stays red forever; building up traffic for almost three blocks. One day I timed this partical light to see how long it stayed red, almost a minute eventually the light turned red and I rushed to the elementary school to pick up Ronnie.

            It must’ve been my lucky day because Ronnie’s class was delay slightly for dismissal. I rushed to the door where other mothers were waiting, some impatient others patient. It doesn’t matter to me now, I’m here and the teacher could take another extra minute with the class if she wanted too. The doors swung open and the teacher began searching for parents to match the child with.

Parents, fathers and mothers and some older sisters and brother greeted their child or sibling with open arms. Ronnie was eighth in line and it didn’t take much searching since I stood practically right in front of the door.  He rushed over to me with arms wide open; bumping into me and almost knocking me over.

“Mom!” He cried in excitement.

            Going to Whitney’s school, Ronnie talked about who was in his class, who sat next to him, and who his teacher was…and of course the endless amount of papers that Marshall and I will have to sign. We reached Whitney’s school; kids by packs gathered around and came out the school by the thousands. Whitney sat there looking as if she had a lot on her mind. The first day of school can be exhausting even with the post- anxiety and school jitters.

            Whitney crossed the street and hoped into the seat next to Ronnie. It was not a good day, I can tell. Her lips were pursed together and she sat with her arms crossed. Whitney is too old now to be turned around with ice cream. As we came close to the house Marshall texted me about Whitney’s day,

Me: Not good.  

Marshall: Why? What happened?

Me: She didn’t say she just stayed quite the car ride home.

Marshall: She probably overwhelmed she’ll come around, hun J

Me: Yeah what time do expect you home?

Marshall: A little over 7.

Me: K. Oh btw…You have school papers to sign for the kids.

Marshall: Gahh! Great, don’t sign them without me.

Me: K.

            I got the kids inside and let them go their separate ways. Whitney didn’t say much expect that she was going in her room along with a somewhat slamming door. I shaked my head, and just let it go hoping she’ll come around like Marshall said. I made Ronnie his snack as I looked over their school papers. It drove me crazy how they send me a paper with the kids’ names on it and where their desk were located in the classroom every year. That is the next thing to discuss at the PTA meeting next month.