The Horizons Series - Prologue

Disobedient Child

AUGUST 28, 2019 - 7:45 AM
[RASHIDI IDE.]

Under the skin-scorching sun, the car alarm went silent as I shut the passenger side door of my mother's car.

I checked the time on my reliable smartwatch, forty-Five minutes past twelve. Just as planned, I was early.

The school gates stood less than three meters away from me, and the sound of them being opened and closed repeatedly taunted me, saying, "You won't make it through me before eight."

But today was different. My plan was well underway, and the fruits of my efforts were ripe for the picking.

Just a few steps and- "Rashidi, come back here!"

I groaned internally but dared not show my frustration, lest I bear the consequences. That rage-filled call was from my mother, gripping the steering wheel with both hands as if she were still driving.

I adjusted my posture and forced a smile, turning to face my hard-working mother, who was cursing me out a few seconds ago. "Yes, mama?"

"Look at you," she said, "Do you think I am stupid?" She asked, handing me the lunch I had left behind. "Erase that fake smile, and show me your disobedience."

Of course, that wasn't an invitation. Instead, it was a measurement for her to gauge how daring her son was today.

My facial muscles tightened, reinforcing the manipulated smile.

"That is what I like to see. Idi males smile in the face of adversity."

I know, mama.

"This morning was a mistake." She instructed, "I will talk to your father about dropping your punishment."

"But you must show him change." She continued, "You are made of your father's seed and your mother's love and care. Only a fool makes stupid decisions knowing full well what is wise. Your parents are not fools, so you have no reason to be."

I know, mama.

"Your friends cannot offer you what we have given you. The gift of life is worth more than happiness at the moment. Do you understand what I am speaking to you?"

I know, mama. This isn't the first time I've heard these words. If I was allowed to speak, I could repeat it all for you right now.

"That boy is nothin' but trouble. He is a sickness!"

I know, mama.

But she went on.

I checked my watch in the rearview mirror's reflection. A trick I felt guilty using. Instead of being fifteen minutes early, I was now fifteen minutes late.

"Ostracize yourself from this light boy before he pulls you into his darkness!"

"Not 'light'," I mumbled.

My mother's eyes widened, "Eh-eh?

A grave mistake. As long as I slept under their roof, I had to follow their golden rule:

_______________________________________________________
Whether I am right or I am wrong, I am right, and you are wrong.
_______________________________________________________

"Nothing, mama."

'His name is Lith.'

As if hearing my thought, she kissed her teeth, her African accent amplified by rage. "I do not care if his name is light, bright, or fright! Eighteen years old, and you think I am a child to be corrected. Maybe I should send you to live with your aunts and uncles, eh?"