SOMETIMES WE MAKE THE WRONG CHOICE by STORM GRAYSON

SOMETIMES WE MAKE THE WRONG CHOICE.

A Short Story by Storm Grayson 

 

 

“But mummy!”

“No Jenny!”

“But mummy I love this dress and I know that nobody else will be wearing the same one.”

“I said no, and I mean it, just look how short it is, you will have to stand like a statue all evening otherwise you will show your underwear.”

“But!”

“Take it off, put it back on the hanger and look for something more suitable.”

Jenny stomped off back to the changing room with tears in her eyes. Being 13 was difficult she felt grown up but everyone treated her like a child that didn’t know her own mind.

Quickly getting back into her own clothes, she left the changing room without bothering to hang the dress back up, the young shop assistant raised her eyebrows as Jenny walked straight passed her mother and out the shop door.

“Jenny come back here will you,” her mother called as she breathlessly tottered in her 6” heels. The pavement was busy and she could see Jenny almost running in the direction of the bus that was waiting at the stop.

“Jenny, wait,” her mother shouted as passers-by turned to look at her. Suddenly one of her heels gave way and she felt the pavement moving towards her at warp speed. Throwing her hands out in front of her she tried to save herself from crashing to the hard ground.

With a resounding thump her large frame landed, her handbag spilling its contents in a large arc around her. Dazed she tried to scramble to her feet, but she felt firm hands keeping her down on the ground.

“Stay there miss, you have had a nasty tumble, did you hit your head, have you broken anything?”

“No, I didn’t hit my head, and the only thing that’s broken are the heels on my Very expensive shoes!” she retorted.

“That’s ok then” said the voice.

Suddenly she noticed hands shuffling through the contents of her handbag.

“Stop, leave those things alone, they don’t belong to you” she shouted

“Stay calm miss they are only trying to collect the contents of your bag” the voice said in a very gentle manner.

“Now miss do you think if I help you we can get you standing up,” the voice asked.

It suddenly occurred to her that she was chasing after Jenny when she fell, her heart began thumping so loudly she thought everyone would hear. She scanned the people standing around staring at her but there was no sign of anyone she knew.

“Where’s my daughter? Jenny, Jenny where are you?” she shouted.

Feeling very wobbly she managed to get to feet with the help, I really must lose some weight she thought to herself as she realised what a struggle it was for her. Somebody handed her the wrecked shoes and her handbag, she mumbled a thank you as now she was beginning to feel embarrassed at the scene she had caused.

Hearing Beethoven’s 8th Symphony she felt confused until she realised it was her phone. Scrabbling about in her bag she found it vibrating at the bottom underneath all the many things she always carried. Looking at the display she saw her daughters face, quickly she pressed the green phone icon.

“Jenny, where are you?” she said anxiously

“Where do you think I am MOTHER?” she said in a defiant tone.

“Are you home?”

“Well of course I am, didn’t you see me catch the bus?” she said unaware of her mother’s fall.

Sighing with relief her mother told her to stay there and she would be home shortly.

Sitting on the bus looking a little worse for wear in her stockinged feet she thought about the last couple of hours.

If she hadn’t chosen to disagree with Jenny over the choice of dress, she wouldn’t have chosen to run away and catch the bus. But then if she hadn’t chosen to wear those ridiculous heels this morning she may also have been able to run for the bus without sprawling on the pavement for all to see.

We all have ‘Choices.’