Rose

Rose In The Rubble

Tanya sat on a turned over bucket, hunched over and filled with nervous energy. With quick jerky movements, her hands touched her matted unkempt hair, tugged at her stained shirt, and scratched the areas of her needle-scarred arms. Sniffing and wiping her nose, she searched the ground, hoping to find a partially used cigarette. The trashy lot with remnants of hidden deeds seemed to make a lie of a day so bright and sunny. Her eyes ran across the paved lot filled with beer cans, used condoms, and clumps of weeds. The discarded needles and broken bottles made it even more of a hazard at night.

Finally finding a cigarette with a couple of puffs left in it, Tanya knocked the dirt off it as best as she could. This in no way compensated for what she really wanted; she needed a fix. Tonight she would have to either steal money or make money. She dug a hand with dirty nails down into the pocket of her ragged jeans. The front, which used to be a light blue color, now was rubbed brown with too many wears without a wash.

Reaching in her pocket, instead of pulling out the lighter she had found on the metro the other day, Tanya pulled out a folded, worn picture with bent edges. Looking at it in surprise, Tanya unfolded it to reveal a woman with breath-taking beauty. Her thick black hair was in a stylish long bob that touched her shoulders. Her earth toned sundress blended with her caramel colored skin while on her wrists were bangles and bracelets that matched an African style necklace worn around her neck. The woman was smiling, her eyes focused on a little boy in the picture who was returning her smile with a grin even bigger.

“Life ain’t all roses!” she said as if she was scolding the woman in the picture.
Tanya then took one ragged nail and lightly touched the face of the smiling little boy. She stood there frozen as the sounds of construction, traffic, and car horns were drowned out by memories of a life that was so far from the one she lived today. With the back of her hand, she wiped her eyes and running nose harder than necessary. It was a face that held a much rougher, worn semblance of the woman in the picture. Angry at her own tears, Tanya shook her head and stuffed the photo back in her pocket so hard that she almost ripped it. She wasn’t that woman anymore and that child wasn’t hers anymore. All she wanted now was her fix. Let her mama take care of him.


Digging in her left pants pocket and finding the cigarette lighter, Tonya stumped back over to her bucket. Stepping over the broken bottles, old needles, and discarded rubble, she stopped as she looked over to the far end of the lot. Among the weeds and rubble, was a single rose in bloom.