Free A Song in the Daylight by Paullina Simons Page A

East, they were headed to New York. But the other way, west. Where were they headed? Pennsylvania? Ohio, to visit relatives? Or somewhere farther? Farther where? Kansas? Colorado? California? Where after that? She would listen to the cars, racing as if rushing, hurrying along, hastening away, faster, faster away, out of New Jersey, beyond, far, away, and gone.
    It got to be so that every time Larissa opened her front door, every time she got into her ivory Escalade or walked down the driveway to get the mail, or opened the windows, or stood briefly to take in the view from the slope of her property, all she heard was the madlong rush of cars.
Che, I know you’ll think I’m crazy for wondering this, but though I think you’re nuts for having that awful protesting job, sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be you. To haveyour life. What is it like to worry about Lorenzo, to sleep late if you want to, or get up early, or have your own schedule? I read your letters with such fascination. Human beings are perverse, aren’t they?
I sometimes wonder how your day breaks down into its many hours.
You know I’d love to come. Michelangelo won’t spare me. But I think the rest of them can take me or leave me. Especially Emily. She’s becoming so snotty. The hormones are going straight to her mouth. She can’t say anything to me without her hand on her hip like a kettle. Remember when we were the same way with our mothers? I miss you so much. Whenever I think of you, I picture us only as kids. You’re the only one who knows me from back then.
Dear Larissa,
I’ve decided to keep your Christmas gift. Thank you. I want to get a manicure and buy new sneakers but I think I’ll just pay my three months’ back rent, if it’s all the same to you.
You want to know about my day? Okay, I’ll tell you about yesterday. What you do is, you take yesterday and multiply it by 365, and you’ll get the picture.
I woke up at seven, because the outdoor market was opening at eight, and I had to go get the fruit baskets from Father Emilio. I got to him by 7:30, but he made me go to Mass first, which is okay, but Lorenzo and I have been fighting so much I didn’t think I deserved communion for all the nasty things I kept yelling, but when I told Father Emilio this, he said that was my pride talking. He said to me, “You’re going to keep yourself away from God’s sacrament because you think you’re not perfect? When do you think you’ll ever be perfect enough,sinless enough, to receive the Eucharist?” So…I went to Mass, and felt a little better about things, and then carried thirteen bushels, one by one, of mangoes and tomatoes and pears and spent till noon selling them, and when I got back home, having made a thousand pesos, I found Lorenzo still sleeping! And you know, we’re so broke, and he needs to work, ride a rickshaw in Manila, which he hates to do, so instead he goes out drinking with his derelict radical buddies and then sleeps till noon, and, like I said, we haven’t paid the rent for three months, living hand to mouth (without the rent).
We had a fight that lasted till one, but then made up nicely, till two, and he got hungry, so we went to San Agustin and had lunch with Father Emilio and his orphans, for free, and then made copies of our leaflets at the mission because Father Emilio lets me use the copier, for free, and afterward went to Manila City Hall Square and distributed them at a joint rally with the Manila Police and the Philippines Motorcycle Association in support of our current president. Imagine us in a joint rally with the police. It ended peacefully at 6:30, and we met up with some friends and went out drinking but I left because I didn’t want to hang out with his loser friends, and besides, I was three days late and wanted to take a pregnancy test. The test cost me 750 pesos. It was negative. I took it at 9:00 p.m., and then cried until Lorenzo returned at eleven, too drunk to care that we weren’t having