All It Takes

7.

Love.

It was a dangerous emotion. It made the decisions should it be present when they were being made. It was beautiful. Bitter-sweet. Two faced. Two sided. Love was a feeling; one the host usually had no choice in. Love was a commitment; one that gave the host no other option but to choose. It was a moment. It was a journey. It was as simple as breathing in air. It was tough as tolerating the excesses. When the going gets tough the tough get going, right? Love was a confusing guest. But what happens when love takes on the responsibilities of host?

The little boy sitting in the corner of the room had hair much like his father's. It was hard to tame and stood out in all directions whenever he woke up. His mother was always confused as to how unruly his hair could be and the rapid growth it had. One would have thought she consumed hair fertilizers for brunch when she was pregnant with him. It was very long. She usually found herself admiring the curls with envy. What she didn't admire though was the effort it took to run a comb through the mass. Styling it was a different case and he was just six, gaining on seven.

"My darling, come have a little food." She cajoled in her sweet voice. Another thing the he got from his father was a flimsy appetite. She had hoped none of her children would inherit that one. He was very picky and ate in small quantities throughout the day. Mashed Potatoes this morning, Chinese rice this afternoon, egg rolls and spinach sauce that night, stuffed onions between this morning and this afternoon, Mac and cheese before that night and on and on.

"What did you make, mama?" He asked looking up from his toys, his honey brown eyes full of childlike happiness as he twiddled with an action figure.

"Roasted plantain with colourful veggies, baby." Her son loved anything colourful and new. It was a new recipe and it quickly snatched his attention as he dropped the figure and ran straight into her waiting arms. He giggled as she planted kisses all over his face and almost doubled over when she playful poked the middle of his eyebrows with her tongue.

She drew out a chair and placed him in it. "Do you want me to feed you, baby?" She asked patting his hair as he grabbed the plate excitedly. "No, mama. I'm a big boy!" Came his muffled reply as he shovelled the food into his mouth. Her baby boy was really growing up. He used to love it when she fed him as she cooed and he giggled. Meal times were always interesting.

She kissed the top of his head and shuffled back to the kitchen to wash the rest of the plates before she sat down to eat. The dull theme of the kitchen corresponded in frightening similitude to her mood as she wiped the washed plates with a cloth. She took measured breaths in an attempt to stop the tears that threatened to fall. Her friend, Linda, had asked severally in hopes of getting something out of her; anything that could help, but she refused to give up on her family.

She moved around the kitchen blinded by the tears she was struggling to contain. She turned around only to jump back abruptly now starting into a pair of knowing grey eyes.

"Kara." She breathed.
"Kara, I..." She trailed off unable to push the words through the tears.
She wiped at her face and tried to complete her sentence before she realized she was gone.
"Kara?"

Her world started to spin as she gripped the counter top. She hadn't eaten much. She was famished and exhausted. She blinked rapidly as she heard the small voice. It sounded very distant but it was a voice she knew too well. It was familiar. It wrapped around her and calmed her.

"Deep breaths, mama. Deep breaths." He repeated severally, like a mantra, one he knew by heart. She steadied in his arms and looked up. She hadn't heard him walk in. 

"John. I don't know what to do. I see her everywhere." She sniffled as she sat up in his small arms.

"It wasn't my fault. It really wasn't. Help me explain it to her, please." She pleaded as the sobs racked through her body and she clenched eyes along with the collar of his shirt, crumbling it in her fist.

John was confused and did not understand what his mama was saying. All he knew was that she had been crying a lot since he last saw his father. He had been expecting him to walk through the door for a really long time now. He remembered waiting for him to come home and play with him as usual but he never did. She had been sad ever since.

He just hugged her and wiped her tears. "Don't cry, mama." He wanted to ask if it was because of his father but he decided against it. She became sadder everytime he asked so he stopped asking altogether.

She gathered herself and stood up wiping her tears as she tried to scoop John into her arms. It was not the easiest approach but she managed. She wiped the counter top and made for her room with John hanging on to her for dear life; as though she would crumble before his eyes and he won't be able to do much about it. She was broken and falling apart gradually.

She walked by the lone circular mirror on the wall to the left of her dresser and was appalled. She looked like a mess. Her jet black hair looked like a nest birds were fighting for. Her beautiful eyes were red and puffy and her lips were swollen from all the biting she was doing to reign the sound of her tears in. She looked like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders as her once enviable posture was a shadow of what it once was. She in all, looked very terrible.

At that point she made up her mind. She would rise up and take responsibility for her and her lovely little boy. Her husband walking out will not jeopardize any other thing and she would fix the damage that had already been done. So she washed her face and brushed her hair, dabbed on a bit of makeup and even dared a lipstick colour that contrasted with her skin tone. Looked into the mirror and smiled. It would take a lot to get back on track because her runaway husband was loaded and her job as a stylist hardly brought in much to survive especially in that part of town but she was not going down without a fight.

She went back to the dinning and settled down to eat.

"Let us pray."

Not the longest chapter but the first one in a while.
I'll finish this book. I will. This begs the matter of when but I will.
Thank you for staying with me. It means a lot.
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Love,
Naomi.