HER WET PILLOW

LOST TO GRIEF

CHAPTER 9
LOST TO GREIF
I was handling the kettle when I accidentally poured the water on my leg. I screamed and everyone came to the kitchen to check what was going on. Mom was the first to get there; she was so worried that you could see it on her face.
"What happened?"
"I..I..Spilled the hot water on my leg." I was stammering.
Mom's eyes turned red as if she was the one that had the burn. She immediately opened the cupboard and quickly fetched flour from a red covered container. She then poured it around the area that was affected. She then held me and sat me down. All I did was to continue to stare at her and look at how confused and worried she was for just a burn. Wasn't she the same person that ignored me and was looking at me irritatingly? The fear, the pain, the worries and the tear she was controlling was and wasn't surprising at the same time. I love seeing my mom caring and showing concern to my affairs. To be frank, I sometimes pray to be sick just to see that care and affection in her eyes. One thing about mom was that she says nothing, but her eye balls say it all. I could remember when I had a fever; my temperature was high and I had an intense headache. Mom was so weak and tears rolled down her eyes. She sat down and placed my head on her lap; she then placed her hand on my hair and rubbed gently.
I can remember the words she said with tears hanging in her beautiful eyes. Oh! I forgot to mention one of the most amazing features of my mom. Mom was very beautiful; her beauty was so dazzling that it takes some minutes to take your eyes off her when you decide to gaze at her. Worst moments are when you decide to complement her because no word can describe how beautiful she looks; her big beautiful eye balls, long eyebrows, her pointed nose, her small rosy lips, and smooth face. Mom's beauty drives not only men crazy but women too. I actually don't like going out with mom because of the way people look at her. I sometimes request she wears nose mask or Niqab to cover her face at least it would reduce the eyes on us. Mom prays against evil eyes everyday and she urges us to do so, in fear of what damages might be done. I could remember when I followed mom to visit her friend on a Friday. She was wearing a long peach coloured Abaya, with white veil, white shoe and was holding a peach coloured bag. I wore pink from head to toe with the exception of my white pair of shoes and a white bag. All eyes were on us as we walked down the street to board a tricycle. A man was intensively staring at mom so much that he fell into the water drainage while trying to cross it. It was actually funny to me as I laughed and laughed whole heartedly but it was annoying to mom.
Back to sick me, I saw mom's eyes filled with tears so I forcefully stretched my hands and wiped her face and I said to her with a smile:
"Mom, tears don't look good on you but a smile looks perfect on you. You must have been wondering why I usually don't look into your eyes when I am speaking to you or when I am closer to you; I usually look down or distract my eyes to look around. It is because every time I gaze at you, I get lost in your eyes as your eye is another world of the beauty you have. When I try to take a look, it takes a while to recover. Moreover, if I stare longer; it might take forever to recover from your intoxicating beauty mom."
I can remember there was this beautiful smile on her face. She then kissed my forehead and hugged me. She then said:
"You naughty girl, you are as precious to me as the moon is to night. All other stars that twinkle have no effect on me when you are absent. You are the basic source of my mesmerizing and dazzling appearance, my precious little angel."
Like mother like daughter right? I actually learnt from the best. My mom was very good in poetry and she writes them down in one of her jotters. I usually read the book when I am free. My relationship with my mother can be best defined as the relationship between the tongue and the teeth. I was as close to my mom as the tongue is to the teeth. I was her friend and her daughter at the same time. The tongue and the teeth are close but the teeth bite the tongue sometimes. The same thing applies to me and my mom. I offend most times but she forgives me anyways and we are together as the tongue and teeth are in the same mouth.
Back to my burnt leg, I sat down and watched her as she was blowing the area with her mouth. My siblings also stood there watching what was happening. It actually hurt badly but what would hurt more was mom scolding and I was ready for that. As is I knew, she said:
"What came over you? What were you thinking? You spilled hot water on your leg. How? What must have been ringing in your head? Do you want to kill yourself? What on earth is wrong with you? Besides I have forgotten you don't know how to do anything."
First, I didn't know which question to answer. Second, I hate when she says I don't know how to do anything. Anytime she says that, it hurts my feelings a lot and I wouldn't say it's totally her fault. If not for that her friend, Anti Laure who always speaks about all the chores her daughter does. She would come to our house and when she sees me sitting or doing something else, she would start telling mom that she is raising a spoilt brat that can't help her do house works. She would start mentioning all that her daughter does and what she doesn't do claiming she was raising a responsible daughter. She always spoils my mood and I don't even like seeing her in the house. She just causes troubles for me and nothing more. She never discusses serious issues as she only loves to spread rumors around the neighbourhood. Everybody knows her; they call her Laure mai labari because of her love for spreading both fake and original news. If you want to know any update in the community, be sure to contact Anti Laure; she is an expert.
I don't know what magic happened but my leg didn't swell; it was getting better. The only thing that remained was the pain that I felt. I had a rest and continued the activities for the day. Mom noticed that the atmosphere wasn't lively so she decided to cheer us up. She called all of us and sat us down, she then gave us a nice story which brought smile to our faces. Mom always had a way, one of the amazing facts about her. No superhero could ever be as amazing as she was to us, she was our leading example. We had a beautiful night as we all decided to sleep in the palour. We brought out our pillows and blankets; we then spread our rug and mat on the floor to sleep. It was such a wonderful night.
The next morning, mom woke us as early as she used to. We prayed, bathed, ate and prepared for school. But this time it was different as we all took smiling faces to school and we waved mom as we left. I could see the happiness on mom's face, she deserved it.
I arrived at school with a smile on my face. I greeted everyone I met on the way; the gateman, teachers, seniors and even my classmates. I was almost sure that there was nothing that was going to spoil my day until the three arrogant fashionistas arrived. They were looking nice as usual and looking for a way to peace me off as usual but they came at the wrong time because I was ready for them.
"Hey! Silly brat." Natasha said. Natasha was the leader of the group. She was tall, intelligent and beautiful. She was from a very wealthy family which she was so proud of. The other two were Afrah and Isabelle. They were also beautiful and were also from rich families but what I don't understand is why Natasha was superior over them.
When I heard Natasha, I knew it was me she was talking to but I ignored and continued walking to the class. That got them mad and more reason to find fault in me and tease me.
"Don't you know that she is talking to you?" Afrah said frowning but I equally ignored her and continued smiling as I was walking. They then approached me and folded their arms while standing in front of me.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Natasha asked.
"What do you mean? Did you see anything strange?" I asked.
"You are still asking me stupid question. Were you not the one I was calling?"
"When did you call me?"
"Of course I did. Do you mean I am lying?"
"But I didn't hear my name. What do you want from me?"
"I want to give you a sound warning not to interfere in matters that do not concern you."
"The matter doesn't concern you either. So let me." I said and walked away. They were all shocked and I was equally surprised at how I got the courage to speak back. I continued walking when Farida approached me.
"Hi!"
"Hello!" I responded although I was perplexed.
"How are you doing?"
"I am fine and you?"
"I am also doing great. I just want to thank you for yesterday. I really appreciate."
"No, don't bother. What are classmates for?"
"Do you mind hanging out with me during break?" She asked.
"Sure, but Fatima would have to be there too."
"Sure, no problem. Bye."
"Bye." I concluded and she left. I was so surprised that she can actually spoke to me because I never saw her speak to any of our classmates before. That was a miracle. I couldn't wait to know what it feels like hanging out with her.
When I got to the class, I told Fatima all that happened on my way to the class. She was happy and also excited to hang out with the class nerd; it was an opportunity to know her. We had our class assembly, after which our class teacher came to call out the register and advice us, which marked the beginning of our lessons. The lessons were boring that day and we prayed for it to be break time. I and Fatima had two reasons to have our break time near; to chat with Farida and to end the boring lessons.
Finally, it was break time. We all cheered as we heard the bell ringing. The teacher looked at us surprisingly because she saw how unserious we were. She then packed her textbooks without saying a word and left. Everyone left for what they had in mind to do, so did we. Farida came to call us as we left the classroom and went to the school compound to chat. We all brought some snacks and drinks along.
"So, how are you guys doing?"
"We are cool and you?"
"I am too. I know there are a lot of questions on your mind right now. Just take it easy on me." She said and smiled. Her smile was very pretty. I never saw her smile until that very day.
"Yes of course." I said.
"Let me start. Why is it that you don't associate with anyone in the class?" Fatima asked.
"That is because I don't want trouble."
"What do you mean by trouble? Associating with people is no trouble." I said.
"Not right and not wrong. Associating with people might be fun and exciting but at the same time provoking and annoying. I don't want to hurt and be hurt. People have their ways of thinking and what they take as wrong or right. I might not suit their taste and they may not suit mine. But the truth is that I actually don't feel comfortable with people."
"But why?" Fatima asked.
"That's a very long story. It is something I don't want to talk about, something that is unpleasing to the ear, and something that comes with a lot of pain and sadness."
"That sounds disastrous. Would you like to share?" I asked.
"I am not sure if you will want to listen."
"We will love to."Fatima said.
"We were a beautiful family; I, my mom and my dad. There was happiness and joy. I and my dad used to tease mom and look for her trouble when she cooks. I and mom used to draw on dad's face when he sleeps and run away when he wakes. We used to have family vacations and memorable travels. It was fun living with my parent. Suddenly, my dad changed. He became an angry man. He wouldn't play with me or joke with mom as he used to. Mom tried finding what the problem was but to no avail. There was a day she played a prank on him as she used to but she didn't get the loving reaction she used to get from him. Instead, she was beaten up by him. I could remember how much I cried that very day. My mom wasn't healthy enough to receive such beating which landed her in the hospital. I was heartbroken and hurt. Ever since, my mom's illness kept on growing but dad never cared to solve the problem he created. My mom was very hurt, she cried every time. I tried to help but to no avail.
Mom had an attack which landed her to her grave. Since that day, my happiness died and I hated my dad more than anyone in this world. Dad came back to his senses when he lost his beloved wife but it was too late. He tried to win my heart by any means but he hasn't succeeded yet. I have been living with my dad but the house has been like that of strangers in a hotel. He would talk to me and provide everything I need but I won't speak back. I talk to him through my nanny. What he did was unforgivable. That's what made me who I am today. I see the world as a dark place and buried inside me is pain and grief. I have no friends, the only conversations I made were with my nanny. You are the first people aside from my nanny that I have spoken to about myself since my mother's death."
"I am so sorry for the lose." I said.
"Me too. You have us now. Friends?" Fatima asked stretching her hand for a handshake.
"Friends." Farida said and shaked back. I then gave her a hug. I could feel her pain from the way she held me.
It was nice talking to Farida. We discussed and discussed until the break was over. When it was closing time, we chatted before we path ways. It was such a nice day; I made another friend.