Honeyblonde Curls

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"I'm going to miss you so much!" I squeeze Kenya tightly in a hug and pull away, wiping my moist eyes.
"Well, we'll be back before you know it," Adrian chimes in and I smile.
"Girl take plenty of pictures, and have fun," Hannah hugs her again and we move away so they embrace their relatives.

Christian hugs Adrian and they talk among themselves for a bit before he walks back to me.

We bid our final goodbye to the newly weds and wait a bit until we disperse to our cars.

"So, I was thinking," Christian begins as we're in drive, "what do you think of pottery classes? You come over to my house and learn how to make some pretty pots and take one home to your father."
"That sounds interesting,plus you owe me lessons," I remind him.
"The artifacts? What about the turtledoves we made for Kenya?"
"Those don't count,"
"Wow, some memory you have there," he laughs.

"Anyway, my dad might be leaving soon, a clay pot would be a great gift," I inform him.
"He's leaving? Oh..."
"Yeah, just family stuff to sort out with his family and my mum's. You already know," I sigh.
"It is going to be okay, Imani," he rests his hand on mine.

"Yeah, I just feel so uneasy. Like how my mother is all over the place trying so hard to push her agendas, it's just so clear to me that she doesn't care about me as her daughter, I'm now an asset or something,"

"I get what you mean," he acknowledges.
"Yeah well, at the end of the day, all her efforts will be in vain."

We finally pull up at my house and find my father walking towards us in the distance. I'm guessing he was out for a walk again.

"Just in time," he grins.
"For?" Christian and I ask in unison.
"For lunch. Imani may have not told you but I'm a great cook, come in,"

I give a confused expression and tail behind them into the house, my father striking conversation with Christian like I don't exist. I'm used to it now, not that anybody's asking but yeah.

"Why don't you go find some music- or a movie, that we can watch later?" my dad pats my shoulder.
"Uhm... okay," I walk up the staircase and then it registers; this man wants to speak to Christian privately. Damn, okay.

A few minutes pass and I return to the kitchen to find Christian dicing greens.

"Where's my dad?" I ask, placing my speaker on the kitchen island.
"He had to take a call outside," he explains.
"Oh..."
"Your father is a very interesting man," he points out.
"I'm sure he is,"

"He knows about how we met," he smirks, now dicing a bell pepper.
"What the f-!" I hiss as my dad walks back in, trying to smile. I have a feeling whoever he was on the phone with didn't come in peace because it's written all over his face.

We finally get to have lunch, where my father goes over his observations of the neighborhood I live in. If you ask me, I say this is just gossip.

"But you know Imani, you picked a fine environment to live in. Everyone here minds their own," he bites into his piece of chicken.
"That is true," Christian adds.
"I mean yeah. Although we do have a neighborhood watch. So, everyone here is each other's eyes and ears,"

After lunch, Christian and I clear the table and sink while my dad was away.

"I'm sensing that there's an issue, with your father excusing himself,"
"You bet," I give a tight lipped smile.
"Well, a little distraction might help," he looks at me cunningly.
"What distraction?"

***
"Imani,"
"Good evening. Is my mum in?" I say in monotone.
"Yeah. Come in," I hesitantly step in and walk through the corridor and into the living room.
"I'll go call her," I nod in response.