Tenement Flats | Teen Ink

Tenement Flats

January 7, 2010
By ckeegster BRONZE, Fairfield, Connecticut
ckeegster BRONZE, Fairfield, Connecticut
2 articles 0 photos 1 comment

I remember……..
The times when daddy had to work in the smelly, dirty streets so that mommy and I could eat. He was a street sweeper so we would not die of starvation. After weeks of dreadful, hard work, life got better. We are now living in the village with other families; it is like our own little town with all the nasty rich people up on the hill. My dad still works as a street sweeper but we are not begging for money anymore we have enough to live.

My mother and I work for the nasty Mrs. Maxwell, hanging laundry for the villagers every Sunday. On laundry day my mother and I would hang the villager’s laundry out on the lines. It was not the funniest job ever there would be difficult times, like when the wind blew and the cloths would fall to the ground and we would have to clean them all over again, and when we would use too much soap there would be soap everywhere and Mrs. Maxwell would flail her hands and yell at us. But on the nice hot and sunny days it would be an advantage because the sun would dry the clothes in no time at all.

On Mondays before I walk down the dirt road to school, I stop by Mrs. Arthur’s apartment to feed Ginger, a nice fluffy cat. Mrs. Arthur was too old to give Ginger much attention.
After a couple of hard working weeks at the village, a very sick little girl named Lily, with cheeks red and rosy moved into the room next door she was suffering of a rare heart disease called congestive heart failure. Her family was not wealthy enough to get her better they were trying to do what they could but that wasn’t much. I would come home from school everyday and go play with lily; she did not have many friends. Everyday I would look at her poor sick face and I wish I was wealthy enough to give her some money for her medical bills to get her better but my dad hardly gets enough pay as it is. One day after school I went home and tried to think of ways that her and her family would get paid so they could get Lily better but when you are in poverty sometimes it is hard, there are not many jobs around here. Lily’s dad works cleaning the streets with my dad but that is not enough pay for their family. Continuing to think, I came up with an idea. I could ask hissy Mrs. Maxwell if she would interview Lily and her mother for a job. The next Sunday I was hanging laundry with mother and I wanted Mrs. Maxwell to come down and see how we were doing, I wanted to ask her about Lily and her mother. Finally, I saw a grayed hair lady, slowly swaying down the hill. My body shaking of sacredness. Usually, I am not excited to see Mrs. Maxwell but today I was. I was hoping that she was in a good mood. When she reached my mother and me, I asked her a question to see what king of mood she was in. She was in a good mood but I was not sure if it was a good enough mood for this.
“Mrs. Maxwell” I said in a nervous voice.
”What,” she said.
“There is a poor little girl that lives in the room next to mine she is suffering of a rare heart disease called congestive heart failure”.
“That is sad” she said.
“But why are you telling me this?” As soon as she said that I knew this was not a good day to ask her about a job interview but I had already set in and I was not going to stop.
“She is very poor and needs money to get herself better+
,” I said.
“Why am I in this conversation,” she said in voice I had never heard before.
“Because I need you to hire her so her family can get enough money for her medical bills.”
“Oh no, I have enough workers hanging laundry and I do not need any more.” she said in a curt voice. Whenever you ask for Mrs. Maxwell to do something for you it is like a flaming hot fire hitting you in the face.

Now I worry everyday if poor Lily will ever get the medial help that she so disparately needs. Praying for a miracle, I hope God will look down upon her and her family and give them the help they need.

The author's comments:
I wrote this about a picture.

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