Creative Writing: Marisela’s Robots

By: Kris Paul, Ivanhoe Sol

Marisela decided leaving Ivanhoe for good would be the only way that she could live the life she always wanted. Robotics. She had spent many cold lunch breaks reading alone on the benches while the other kids wasted their time talking about this and that, which was of no consequence to Marisela.

They weren’t sending out letters of acceptance. Times had changed, and in-person instruction was not being offered.. but email, the internet, and virtual classrooms, synchronous or not, education pressed on; and Marisela was waiting for that email letter of acceptance.

“Mija, did you get a chance to wash some of the laundry?”

“What, grandma?”

“I said, oh you know what, never mind, I’ll just do it myself.”

She went to raise herself out of her reclined position, but was stopped by Marisela’s sudden movement, accompanied by a great sigh, as she tiredly got up to perform the chore.

“Marisela,” shouted her younger sister, followed by her even younger brother, “what’s for dinner? Grandma looks like she’s sleeping in her chair, and we’re hungry, so what’s for dinner?”

Their little brother said nothing. 

Marisela’s tired shoulders slumped as she thought about what she was going to make for them to eat. There was some ham in the refrigerator, also some bread, tortillas, maybe some cheese, and she was pretty sure that they had a couple of cans of beans. A combination of some of those ingredients would be what they were going to have.

Only one more semester, only four more classes, only one core class needed to pass, and her transfer would be guaranteed. Just over four weeks into that last semester, at the Junior College that nearly all of her graduating class had already flunked out of, and still no reply from USC Viterbi School of Engineering.

Marisela cut some of the thin slices of ham, put them on a plate, put the plate in the microwave, all while she warmed up the can of beans with a fat pat of butter, and some Tapatio, with the tortillas hovering over another flame on a back burner. She tossed a handful of cheese into the pot and stirred.

The kids were quickly fed, the young sister ushered into a shower as the younger brother sat in front of the TV for some cartoons while their grandma slept under a crocheted blanket, on her favorite recliner.

Marisela’s drying eyes blinked furiously in a weak attempt to feel more awake, but the quickening of her heartbeat could not be ignored as she logged in to her account, clicked to open this, then that, then she blinked again, harder than before. She tried to focus her gaze, and comprehend all that the message had to say.