Pregnant @ MindSay 
baby
To the great unknown,
My name is rachel and I am a stay at home mom to a 15 month old....and I just found out i was pregnant (possibly with twins!!!!) and I am terrified. I bearly have enough energy for my daughter...Im not sure what I am going to do...I suppose only time will tell.
Well, like I promised... I am adding one of the papers I wrote for class. Now, bare in mind that there may be some mistakes in this one, because it is the unedited version. The reason that I chose this one, was because it had more details... So, technically it is an 8 page paper... The edited version was cut down to just over 5 pages... The assignment was to write about a journey we had experienced, that expressed a quote by Confucius; “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Well, I hope you enjoy! Comments are welcome ;)
"Unimaginable Journey"
I stepped outside the large green door into the alley way between apartment complexes where the rusted, metallic garbage cans were kept. Lifting the lid from the closest receptacle, that over powering, sickeningly sweet and sour aroma of moldy tomatoes, bananas and bread flooded my nostrils. Gagging, I quickly released the large black bag and returned the lid to its position. Gripping the opening of my maroon sweater, I tightly wrapped it around me as I turned to go back inside. Suddenly, I was startled by the shadowy figure in front of me. My heart pace quickened. My breath shortened.
“Please, don’t be frightened,” the man assured calmly. “I need your help.”
“Uh oh,” I thought. “What on earth does he want MY help for?” It was nearly 3 o’clock in the morning, and my mind felt like corn meal mush. I tilted my head slightly and spoke up, “My help?”
“Would you mind stepping inside? Just into the apartment stairwell will do; I’d like to speak with you about something.”
Technically, I couldn’t say no. He was standing in front of the apartment building door, which remained unlocked. He had a large build, but a soft voice. I made a rash decision; one I would unlikely make at a more convenient hour. “We can go up to my apartment,” I whispered quickly.
***
The old metal stairs clanked loudly as we made our way to the third floor apartments. We walked midway down the hall, my eyes wavering from the worn brown and red designed carpeting to the bald head of this stranger in front of me. “Twenty-four,” I hummed gently. He stopped in front of my red door. I unlocked it and paint peels fell as I turned the knob and pushed open the door with my other hand.
Broken tiles made up my two-foot entry way, beyond which my two tattered couches and bean bag chairs crowded the living room area. “Please have a seat,” I instructed; my hostess instincts kicking in. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you,” he said positioning himself on the couch facing the hall.
I sat across from him on the opposing couch. “So, you said that you needed to talk to me. I’m sure you can tell how curious I am by now.”
Thus began his captivating story. He had married a woman from Nepal and had one child with her. When he left she had just found out she was pregnant with another. This was two years before, and he couldn’t make it home on his own. A group called “Koomzad” was trying to find him and according to their rules, until he returned home to his wife, they had free reign to kill him. Apparently I was recommended as the perfect person to help him on this journey, but he could not say who had told him of me.
I breathed a prayer for a moment of inspiration; “I’ll do it!” I was taken back by my own loud response and slapped my hands over my mouth. I couldn’t believe what I had said, and so abruptly, too! Little did I know that this journey of his would also become a journey of my own.
***
Scrambling through my dresser drawer, I thought to myself frantically; “What on earth do you pack for this kind of trip? I’ve never had to do this before!” I rushed around grabbing random items and throwing them on my bed. I stopped. “What am I doing? I’m not going on vacation!” I quickly grabbed the essentials – a pair of jeans, a light jacket, a few shirts, a pair of shorts, toothbrush, toothpaste, water purifying tablets, first aid kit, and most importantly – my piggy bank (a tall blue cloth covered Electrasol can filled with random coins and dollars I had been saving for a trip to Australia). The contents I dumped on my desk.
“Four hundred dollars,” I whispered to myself as I slid the last quarter off the desk. It was now almost 5am as I carried my backpack out into the living room and threw it on the couch. The man lay sleeping while I had been packing for the last hour. I gently shook him. “Breakfast?” I asked.
He jolted awake, cocking his “guns” into a combat position. “What? Sorry. Breakfast? What time is it? Yes. I’m starving.”
I withheld the giggles. “Yes, as in the food to break the fast. It’s almost five. What would you like? Tofu and Little Links?”
“Tofu? Umm… Sure! Sounds great!”
With his hesitant answer I wasn’t convinced. But with the time frame, we rushed through breakfast without a word, until I grabbed his plate to wash it. “What’s your name, by the way?” I asked. I had just realized I didn’t know it.
He answered with an outstretched hand, “I apologize, I’m Frank Jacobs.”
“Well Mr. Jacobs, I guess we’re ready to embark on our journey.” I assumed to give him a proper title, for he was older than I by at least 10 years.
“Please, call me Frank. We’ll certainly be spending enough time together.”
***
Grabbing my black bag from the couch and flipping off the light on the table, Frank opened the door and stepped out. I took a single step out of my apartment and gazed at the shiny gold number as I locked the door. 324. Realization hit me of what I had taken on, how long I’d be away from home, and what troubles I may face along the way. I clung to the knob a moment longer, lingering at the door with thoughts of hastily returning inside, dead bolting it and remaining there until he had no choice but to leave. That first step seemed to be the hardest at that point, but I turned and made my way down the hall.
As we reached the street, we walked about half a block down the long aisle of cars. “This one,” I said motioning to the bluish-charcoal clunker. I saw the look on his face; disturbed by the sight of it as I got in. I unlocked his door while putting the key in the ignition. The engine made a soft hum as I threw it in drive.
***
This journey depended on money; lots of money. Whoever these people were – they were good. He used my cell phone to schedule several flights to throw them off, registration under his name was definitely a dead give away. We drove as far as we could until we stopped to get some food and that’s when the car broke down.
It wasn’t safe to say we were out of harm's way stranded in the middle of Ohio, although I wish I could have. Just about the time those thoughts entered my head, Frank saw them. Next thing I knew, we were down in the sewers, running adjacent to a stream of sewage. My bag swung over one shoulder; I struggled to attach my backpack to both arms. I didn’t quite understand the situation, wasn’t sure where we would end up, but I did know our destination – where we wanted to be.
***
Soon we crawled out of the man hole a couple miles away. No car. We walked to a gas station about a mile down the road where we hitched a ride with a truck driver. I fell asleep and the next thing I knew, we had made our way to New York.
Inside the city, he let us off at a street corner. We began to walk into the run down areas. Women stood on corners, groups of young men stood in alley ways; some with their arms draped around a young girl. An ominous voice shouted at us as we walked past a dark alley. “Hey! You’re not from around here, are you? Get lost on your way to a Father-Daughter outing?” He cackled.
“Keep walking,” Frank sternly barked in a hushed tone. I did, but it didn’t work. The man with a group of others strutted towards us. “Run!” Frank insisted as he hurriedly shoved his hand across my back. We both took off down the street. Creepily, they remained at their rapid swaggering pace. Somehow I knew that they were going to catch up to us and we would have to stand our ground, they knew to.
Turning a street corner moments after Frank, I was pulled into the alley way. A hand over my mouth, “Keep quite. It’s me,” the voice whispered. “We’ll have to fight them if they find us. We can’t run anymore.” Frank handed me a metal pole lying on the ground. “Ever play baseball?” I nodded. “Good. Hold tightly and swing.”
***
My arms ached from the swinging motion, and a trickle of blood dripped from the side of my head from a light blow. I looked around to six bodies lying amidst the dumpsters and randomly placed trash cans; three of the men ran away. I held back the tears from the overwhelming event that had just occurred. “Now what?” I asked dabbing gauze to my wound; hissing from the pain.
“We get on a boat,” he announced. “I don’t want to take the chances on a plane.”
“Neither do I. I’m not so sure I like alleys anymore. I met you; I met them… It just gives me a whole lot of experiences I’m just not sure I’m prepared to face.”
“You’re prepared. I saw you. I appreciate your help. You’ll be needed terribly for our next phase. Let’s go inside the convenience store and clean up. Change your clothes. It looks like there is a rack of clothes inside. I’m paying for your wardrobe change.”
***
Hesitantly, I stepped out of the small bathroom in a skirt and slightly large shirt. “Frank, I think I need a smaller size for this top.”
“No,” he said reaching for the hem of it. “It’s perfect.” He placed a piece of round foam under my shirt. “Tuck it in… Now, see what I mean?”
I looked at the potato chip rack, with its silvery mirror-like sides. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Pregnant lady coming through! Do you really think they’ll buy this?”
“Oh, I would. You’ve taught drama, right? It’s time to fit into the role as my pregnant wife.”
“But the cruise will take months.”
“Yes, I know. Here is some other foam to make you bigger, and a smaller piece to start you out with. We can put some in my bag and some in yours.”
***
I pulled out my passport and handed it to the ticket master on the docks. “Sir, my husband and I need to get back to India.” I said motioning to Frank standing at a port gift shop stand. “He wants his child to be raised among his family there, but he lost his passport.”
“Funny. He doesn’t look Indian.”
“No, Sir, his mother is Indian, his father is British. And well, his hair was thick and black before he went bald. Please, I’m four months pregnant. I want to give him this before he dies.”
“Dies?” The man asked.
“Yes sir. He’s balding from cancer treatments. Less than a year to live,” it was the strangest thing I had ever done in acting - force out and hold back tears.
“So you’ll be stranded in India with a baby and his family? That hardly seems fair. How does your family feel about this?”
The twinge of guilt began to sink in from lying, but I continued. “They don’t. They passed when I was young.”
He hesitated. “It’ll be $300, ma’am.”
“Thank you!”
***
We had registered under my name. It had worked; no need for his passport to be shown. We boarded the boat and found our room. With nearly one hundred days in front of us, we began thinking ahead. Frank gave me back the $300 I paid for the tickets; and he seemed to have plenty more with him. He paid for all of our meals, extra clothes, and after months of “adding on the pounds,” we arrived in Mumbai, India.
***
We began to travel. Rest was something we got plenty of on the boat. Hitching rides with locals combined with miles of hiking through Bombay, Kalyan, all the way to Kanpur; finally we made it into Nepal.
I thought that was it; simple for the most part. Yet again, I was wrong. It seems the Koomzad could track those thoughts, because they showed up again; several of them.
At that time of our journey, we were blessed having hitched a ride with poachers. Tranquilizer guns were a perfect fit for these men, for death hardly seemed the answer on either end. Thirteen trained Koomzad against three poachers, Frank, and me.
With a dart held tightly in my hand, I took on the smallest of the band. We circled around each other. He lunged at me; he missed. I lunged at him with my right hand aiming for his stomach; my left hand, clinching the serum, went straight to his bicep. At that point, I ran. He speedily jolted toward me, but soon slowed to a swift halt; he landed face down in the dirt.
The fight was over, and I realized our journey would be soon. We made our way into the villages of Nepal, and I realized that even though this journey would end, it would live with me forever.
***
Finally we made it to his home near Humla. The scene played like a movie; a woman squatting in a garden patch beside the house and two young boys handing her half-grown foods. I stood back and watched as Frank gently called her name. Her face turned up with knowledge of who it was; the tears welling in her eyes as she ran to his embrace. I turned to face the mountainous path that started me back on my journey home; I stopped, in awe of the masterful sight before me.
Startled by an obnoxious buzzing, my eyes opened to the flashing red numbers on my alarm clock. This had been the third time I had awakened with this memory. To some, this may be considered just a dream, but for me, that’s often where the best journeys begin.
***
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” –Confucius
Showing 1 - 5. [ Next ]