Stranger to Me

~Eight~

Sajana's P.O.V.

No. No. I don't want to talk about this. Especially not with some strange woman. I had to leave.

 But as I got up to go, I remembered how angry I still was with Luxshana. I didn't really want to see her right now.

Slowly, I pivoted on my foot and faced Ms. Gilda again.

"Actually," I said," Maybe I will stay for a while longer."

She seemed pleased as I returned to my chair and sat down.

"Why the change of heart?" she asked, clearly amused.

"Well, I'm not really happy with my sister right now, so I'm not really in the mood to see her."

"I see."

"Yeah."

The same awkward silence plagued us once more.

"So....." I began.

"So why are you not happy with your sister?"

I wanted to tell her, but I really didn't know where to begin.

"Well, it's complicated," I said. "You see, we haven't really had a good time in this town, because people don't like us. Today, my sister wanted to get some gum, so we went to the store, you know the one near the gas station?"

Ms. Gilda nodded.

"The store keeper there was very rude to us," I said, feeling my voice rising with anger.

"I know, " Ms. Gilda said. "I was there - I saw it all."

I was surprised, but thankful I didn't have to recount the whole terrifying encounter.

"So I told my sister, Luxshana, that we needed to tell someone," I continued my story.

"And?"

"And Luxshana said we would have to deal with it," I said bitterly. My eyes became a little watery, but I refused to cry in front of this stranger.

Ms. Gilda reached over and rubbed my hand in an effort to soothe me. Actually, it was felt good to tell someone other than Luxshana. But I still wasn't read to cry with this woman. As I looked at her sympathetic  eyes, I decided I could trust her a little more than all the other rude white people - but not much more.

"I told her that I didn't want to have to deal with it," I kept going. "That it wasn't fair that we lived our lives like this. But she still refused to do anything."

I paused to take a drink of the cold "fresh" milk (whatever that meant).

"And so, I got really mad at her, and I was crying, and I was also shouting, and - and - I kind of ran away. Not really, but I just wanted to get away from her. But when I started running,  I soon became out of breath. Next thing I knew, I was coming home with you."

It was only after Ms. Gilda handed me a tissue that I became aware of the tears rolling down my face. I accepted the tissue and wiped the tears away, mortified that I cried. But it was something that was incontrollable.

"I'm sorry," I sniffed. "I didn't mean to cry."

"Shh, honey, it's okay," Ms. Gilda said, soothingly. She took a hold of my hand and squeezed it.

"Thank you," I sobbed. " But it's not going to help. Once I get started crying, it's hard for me to stop."

Ms. Gilda got up and stood next to me. She rested her hands on my shaking shoulders.  I reached my hand up to hers and held it, never wanting to let go. This stranger didn't seem so strange anymore.

"Thank you," I whispered again.

"Thank you."