Mercy || Whitey Winn

(2)

"You did great today, Minnie. See you tomorrow," Mrs. Dunne, the only teacher in La Belle, said to me at the end of the day.

"Thank you ma'am. Have a good rest of your day." I smiled at her then walked out the front door of the school building. With exhaustion written all over my face, I journeyed back towards my house.

      It has been approximately ten minutes since all of the kids left, leaving the streets quiet and peaceful once again. Some of the women I knew waved to me, causing me to mask my exhaustion with as kind a smile I could muster.

      After a long ten minutes of walking and, unfortunately, not seeing Whitey, I finally reached my house. My house couldn't be described as run down, but it also couldn't be described as in the best condition either. It was small, wooden, and one story. Once you walked through the door you could see straight into the living room and kitchen. My mom's room, as well as mine, were both sectioned off in the back left corner by a thin layered wall. You could hear what everyone was saying from any point in the house, that's how small it is.

I walked through the front door and shouted out a quick hello to aware my mother that I had arrived. She just started working from home more often ever since I started training. She's rarely worked since my dad made most of our money by working in the mines, but ever since he died in the big accident that wiped out most of the male population in La Belle, she's had to take up work—and lots of it. She's just recently been able to take a break from her overwhelming jobs and do what she loves; Art. One important thing to know about my mother is that she's a very artistic woman. She can create more than the average person can and makes it beautifully. She paints, draws, knits, sews, builds, designs, crafts, and basically anything artistic in general. She then sells her art to stores as inventory that way we can still make money. Of course, she likes to keep a couple of her favourites and have them all around our tiny living space for everyone who visits to see.

Sadly, she had to give art up for a while in order to have time for more jobs to help keep us afloat. She had to get up at an ungodly hour and come home late at night. She was still herself, but a depressed version. Like I said, art is her life. Fortunately, she's back to art now and she's much happier. I really appreciated her doing that for us. I know that it's been hard for her, that's partly why I started training to become a teacher as soon as possible.

      "In the bedroom!" My mother informed me.

      I walked straight into the kitchen first to pour myself some water since I was parched from the hot walk over here. I quickly chugged down all the water thirsty then proceeded into my mom's bedroom, which she used to share with my dad until the accident. Once I reached the entrance of her room, I stopped and leaned against the doorframe, pure awe taking over my face. Scattered all around her room were at least five hand knitted blankets of all sizes that definitely weren't there when I left this morning. Blankets, especially hand knitted, normally take months to complete. To say I was curious as to how she managed to make five in a day, is an understatement.

      "Close your mouth, Minnie. You'll catch flies," my mother scolded me, a slight smile on her face, most likely enjoying my reaction.

      I quickly shut my mouth, not even realizing it had opened. I closely scanned the whole room, not moving from my current position due to exhaustion. There was a pile of blankets folded nicely at the end of the bed, while my mother sat at the top, leaning against a pillow. Placed on her nightstand next to the bed was a glass of water and her knitting tools. On the floor was three different types of yarn used mostly for knitting, but sometimes used for jewellery or 3D art. I looked up at my mother's tiny figure and saw the giant bags under her eyes and tired expression on her face, but nonetheless she was smiling. Art truly did make her happy, no matter how tiring.

      "How did you manage to make five blankets in one day?" I asked, truly astonished, yet confused.

She laughed. "Oh sweetie, I didn't make five. I only made one today. The other four I found laying around the house collecting dust. I figured, since no one's using 'em, I could just sell 'em all and get more money."

I walked over to the pile of blankets and looked through 'em. None seemed familiar or important to me so I nodded in agreement with my mother's plan. "Sounds good to me."

"Good 'cause I need you to take 'em to the store. The manager already ordered the one, but see if you can get him to buy the rest."

"Yes ma'am." I grabbed a bag from the closet and placed the blankets in the bag neatly. I picked up the slightly heavy bag and bid goodbye to my mother, then I was off onto the main street of La Belle for the third time that day.