Matter

CHAPTER 2

"Ok, sweetie, momma will be back in a little bit to pick you up. Be good for Miss Patricia and we can go to the park after I get out of school, alright?" I give him a kiss on the cheek as he struggles to run to the cars on the other side of Patricia's living room.

I hand over his backpack to her and look back at Nick and she smiles at my adoration of my son. She cherishes him as much as I do. She lost her son and husband a few short years ago, and to keep from depression, asked if she could babysit Nick.

I walk toward the door, preparing for my day ahead, "I should be done early today. It's a test day. If there's anything you need, just call or text, and I will respond as soon as I'm done."

She shakes her head smiling, "I know, Lena. You know he is going to be just fine. How are you holding up?" She gives me a motherly look of concern regarding my present relational situation.

I stop, lowering my quivering voice, "Well, I see the attorney Friday, so hopefully we will have this finished in a few months. Nick still doesn't know. Please don't talk about it in front of him. I gotta go, I'll see you in a bit." I quickly exit, not so much out of being in a rush, but in confusion as to how to answer.

I know the same questions will arise when the divorce is final. I'll meet them when they come. It's still hard to think that I will be alone raising Nick when this is all over. I get in my car and blink as the sting of tears spreads across my eyes. I wipe the moisture away, putting on my sunglasses to hide the emotion spilling out.

My drive is uneventful. At each stop light, drivers beside me are looking down at the screens of their phones. The impatient drivers honk furiously at those of us at the light, not realizing that we go so much slower at their hostility. I smile as I look in the rearview mirror at their faces, squalling in the confines of their vehicle. The man behind me is using hand gestures, as if I really care. Slowly, I turn off the main road and laugh as he speeds up just to stop at the next stop light.

I park and walk to my first class. My peers are gathered in the hall outside of our door, so I put in my earbuds and turn on my MP3, drowning out the clicking of the multiple devices in their hands. Not a word is spoken amongst us as we wait for our professor. We're involved in our social media, continuing text messages and Snapchat to document our mundane lives. I play my playlist and open Facebook to continue trolling over the lives of my friends, some of whom I have never met face to face.

As I scroll through the feeds, one of my friends has posted about the most recent attack on military personnel just an hour ago. They were rushed by hundreds of suicide bombers and the entire group of men and women stationed there were decimated. Over one hundred and fifty were lost this morning at this incursion.

Her pictures are atrocious with blood spatter on the ground and dead, mangled bodies being stacked together, "Can we please not see stuff like this? I don't like the images or the story." I make my thoughts known to my friend about the post and the horrible pictures before I hide it from my timeline.

We have been engaged in this war for so long, I don't think it will ever come to an end. Every official in Washington says they are fighting to bring the troops home, but they never do. It is all for political gain, or, they just like being a bully to the rest of the world, pocketing more wealth to the already rich.

Before the class is scheduled to begin, one of the professor's assistants places a flyer on the door that class has been cancelled for the day due to family hardship and he will email us all later today.

We all sigh with relief over the postponement of the test, posting our good fortune to our statuses for all the world to see and silently file out of the hallway. It doesn't even make most of us flinch. The pain isn't ours, so we unconcernedly walk away in preparation for our next classes.