Well, it’s not the Immaculate Conception.
Stop saying that.
Tell me about it.
What am I suppose to say to them?
Yeah. Well. Only half of that is true.
It’s my life.
There’s already nothing but waste.
That’s why we’re here.
I loved him. I love him.
It’s a little dot in my stomach. A piece of sperm that latched onto an ovary. There’s nothing in that but the promise to fuck up my life more.
I have this thing in me and my life is over. I can say goodbye to everything I’ve planned. I’ll never see Spain and a bull fight unless it’s on television.
Having a kid ended yours.
Don’t look like that. It’s true.
I love my kids! Where the fuck do you get off saying that?
It’s the truth.
Hey, it’s the truth. Not my fault if you don’t like it.
How dare you say that. Fucking love my kids.
What you done with your life since you had them?
No. Come on. What you done?
Yeah. Nothing. When we were in school, you were all set to travel. Going to see the World, right? That was our lunch conversation. The others were all going to go to Uni, but we were going to get jobs, get money, and see the World.
Things change when you have kids. You don’t even have a job any more.
It’s not like that.
You don’t know shit.
I know who died here.
If it was me, I’d be thinking it was one hell of a blessing I had.
Yeah, well I guess I’m just selfish. Me and Jack both.
According to you, I’m selfish because I don’t see the blessing here. Some fucking blessing. Maybe Jesus could have told Jack not to drive drunk? That would’ve been some sort of miracle I think, and it would’ve saved three lives.
But no, the blessing is that a condom broke and the pill fucked up. Well, fuck that shit. I used both because I didn’t want a kid and I still don’t want a kid.
Which, on any other day, would be just fine with you. But because it’s his kid, I’m suddenly a selfish bitch.
It’s all about me because I’m the one who has to live with it!
We’re standing here where Jack slammed his car into someone else’s and killed two girls and injured a third, and you’re not saying, What a selfish dick. What an asshole. He should have thought about other people and not driven.
But you’re not saying that.
I am not fucking up my life because of a mistake.
Sure it is. It fucks you up just like it fucked up my parents.
I don’t need convincing. I know it. Look at you, you’re just like my folks. Once you had a kid, you were living their life and it’s all about shit jobs, shit options, and a shit fucking future.
You’re twenty-one and you’ve never left the State.
It’s my choice.
Get the fuck out of here if you don’t respect that! Go on!
Like I’m not fucked up already!
(Street Conversations is an eight week project. Photography and Prose. This is Week Five. Previous Weeks include Wires, Jesus, Old Men, and Love. Three more weeks to go.)