Broken

seasons greeting

I am fourteen. I have not bled yet. Mother said I would when I reached a certain age. Its something I do not look forward to. I haven't looked down there since.

I was awake when my stitches were removed. The doctor told me. Nothing was wrong down there, everything was still working perfectly well.

I did not care for that message, I would not be using down there for anything...unless to go to the bathroom.

I was fourteen now and mother...mother is okay.

I never went back to father. I never went back to my tormentor....my tormentor...not my father. Not my father.
I stayed with the women. I stayed with grandmother and Oliver.

We all lived together now. Grandmother, our grandmother dancing in the garden, anytime she wanted, just like she had always wanted

My big aunt, kambili went back to her children.

As her husband suddenly died a long time ago, the care of the children and his estate was her paramount duty.

But she made sure to introduce me to her children to my chagrin.

Staying with Oliver changed my style, I dropped the delicate lacy gowns and hair tied into curly thick ponytails to slim suit shirts and and tailored pants.

Dressing in an androgynous way that did not tell of my gender. I really like Oliver, her dark skin shining under the sunlight, her thick coils when she let it free. The women in our family had such gift.

My hair was tainted from the blood of my father and my blue eyed grandfather.

I detested the lax curls so much. I wanted the wild tight coils of black that my mother,aunt and grandmother was blessed with.

That did not matter. I had to go spend time with my father. He's in attic house deep in the house grounds ...nailed to the floor.

I liked it that way, mother did too. After all it was her idea. One of the best things she ever did for me.