British Indian Nadia Nyce
He would be alright but would be on disability for at least six months, maybe even longer."I cried; my family meant everything to me. I called my dad at least twice a week to talk to him; I couldn't afford to fly home very often. He told me that he wouldn't be able to send me any extra money since he would only be getting disability." 'It's okay, Daddy, you just worry about getting better. I have plenty of free time here and thought about getting a part-time job. I'll be fine. Who knows? Maybe I'll be able to help you out.'"I was scared. I didn't know what to do for extra money. I didn't have any plans for a part-time job. Hell, I was just a nineteen year old girl in a strange state. My etiquette teacher, Marsha, noticed my discomfort." 'Do you want to talk about it, Ambrosia?'"I explained my financial situation to her and told her I would probably have to drop out of college and go back home. I just didn't have the finances to survive." 'Amby (that's what some of the people called. I went shopping for a purpose, to buy food or clothes usually. I know what I want and go straight to the shops that will have the goods I need. For me the pleasure in shopping was the success of getting exactly what I wanted. Women, it seems, shop for the pleasure of looking; perhaps this gives them a better understanding of the economics, and who has the best value for money. I did enjoy the day in Torquay shopping centre. Marilyn was good company at any time. There seemed no plan for this outing; she appeared to pick at random the shops she would visit. I had made the mistake of asking her what she planned to buy and she looked askance at me."Nothing really, but if something catches my eye then I may buy." Something did catch her eye. It was a dress. Men, as a rule cannot visualise a dress hanging on a rail with the vision it will be when worn by the woman, yet Marilyn had that happy knack of seeing a dress and knowing how it would look. There was one. It was a creamy white, quite.
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