Sweetened afterthought

3 • Father

"Do I know you?"

• Briar Mendoza •

I remember a time when I was young, when  mama was still alive. When the sky had darkened and my nightlight had flickered shut, my ears would instantly perk at the soothing whispers of her voice whilst she read patiently to my brother. I'd go as far as to press my cheek to the cold surface of the wall just so I could hear every detail and fluctuation in her voice. To the way, she sang to him long after he dozed and welcomed his room with soft silent snores. I'd find many times that I wouls awake in the same place. Cheek to wall with my knees tucked to my chest with dried tears marring my face.

And in my doting young mind, something within me would always say, "she simply just forgot you briar, tomorrow will be different,"

However she hadn't forgotten me, she had disowned me, she had acknowledged me and concluded that she wanted nothing to do with me.

Back then I didn't understand why one could hate their own child so much. Nothing could really explain it. Today, the only thing I could go of was the idea that she wanted nothing to do with my father and that I was simply his favourite  among all.

I hadn't spoken to my father in numerous days since arriving in America, more specifically California. The idea of it all was way too fresh for any new emotions to grow. If anything I had grown more indifferent than angry. Olivia resumed trying countless times to connect with me and hold some type of relationship with me. But the thought of being replaced by such a woman irked any ideas in my head, of letting her into my shell.

My brother, -
He'd vanished in the cool breeze of the night, returning in the morning as if nothing had ever happened, he'd made a routine of dressing in dark clothing and sneaking through different windows to free himself from our new penitentiary. Something in me hoped that he wasn't going back to his life before. But as I had always known, my brother sought the rush of juvenile instincts.

On to more pressing matters, however...

"Red or champagne flavours, " the woman in front of me yacked.  It was approaching late afternoon and this woman by the name of Kimberly couldn't get enough of sifting through racks upon racks of expensive dresses and heels in order to find the right "flavour" for tonight's event.

By the simple looks of the dresses, they were nowhere near the calibre and precision of dresses back home. I smile politely at her, hiding my disappointment and once again shaking my head as I had done for the last 3 hours.

None of these dresses wowed me. It was clear Kimberly was becoming distraught with my continuing displeasing, yet once again she sucked in a heavy breath before guiding her hands to the last of her colourful gowns.

My eyes perked at the giveaway of long stings of jewellery and satin black. I bit my lip in contemplation before signalling to Kimberly to backtrack to the long dress of woe.

She held out the dress flush against her body, showcasing a naked midriff adorned in expensive jewellery, the rest of the dress from the hip down, a rich satin black that looked to hug your every which curve. And then there was the skimpy fabric that was to hide the large swells of my breasts. Being supported by more jewellery tied behind the nape of one's neck.

Oh, how my father would hate it.
But oh how much I love it.

My face instantly displayed a smile.

"This would be perfect Kimberly," I affirmed, rising from the plush softness of my queen bed whilst an audible gulp sounded from her throat.

"Are you sure? There are so many other options we could go through," I asserted.

I look at the large white clock that is displayed above my bed,