maliyah reed.
2 weeks later. monday.
Mashai had a big track meet this past weekend, so I decided to let her play hookey this Monday. I was currently cooking her and my favorite breakfast meal: saltfish and bake. Our Mom used to cook this every Sunday morning before we went to Church. I would watch her cook before I mastered it on my own. It was now something I made weekly for Mashai and me.
The saltfish was ready and I was letting the last batch of bake fry. I started to make Mashai's plate—more saltfish, less bake. I on the other hand preferred the opposite. I could eat bake with any meal. It was simply fried dough, bread to others, but bake to Trinidadians. My mother and I were born in Trinidad and she tried her hardest to expose us to our culture, but Mashai and I were Daddy's girls at heart—emphasis on the were. Our Dad was simply African American, or a "Yankie" as my Mom would call him.
I plated my food before taking it and Mashai's to her in the living room. She laid comfortably on the couch with pillows supporting her and ice packs resting on her knees while editing her video for YouTube. Even though she was sore, she refused to lounge around. She ran a YouTube channel, ran track and field, and was part of the debate club for her school. Mashai enjoyed keeping herself busy.
She quickly put her laptop on the coffee table before I handed her the plate. I plumped on the loveseat beside her and resumed our favorite show; Jane the Virgin. We watched and finished it over a hundred times. It was our comfort show.
"Your birthday is coming up..." Mashai looked up from her plate, "What do you want to do?" I asked.
"I was thinking..." She pretended to ponder before speaking and I gave her a face.
"What is it, girl?"
"Can I please have a house party?"
I chuckled, "Sure just let me know who's house."
"Please."
She pouted, but I wasn't budging, "You know I don't like people in my house and there is not enough space for you and all them friends you got." I said.
I wasn't a fan of having people over unless it was my immediate friend group. I usually go to wherever they are and so would Mashai. Out of the 3 years of living here, she's only had one friend over. Besides, our home was spacious, but only for us. I couldn't imagine having anything bigger than a small gathering. Mashai is very popular at her school so I know she'd have a hundred kids trampling my house.
"True, but there is enough space in the backyard."
"I know you're not talking about that busted-ass garden with a pool next to it."
"You act like we can't fix it up." She pleaded.
"In a month, Mashai?"
"Yes. Don't be so pessimistic." I swatted my hand at her.
"We'll figure that out another time, just come up with a backup plan for your seventeenth. No promises."
I began to eat while Mashai slowly nibbled on her food. I could tell something was on her mind.
"What?"
"There's something else I want for my birthday." I chewed my food, motioning with my hand for her to continue, "I want a tattoo."
I sat upright and quickly grabbed my mimosa from the tray.
"You are turning seventeen," I took a sip from my glass, "Not twenty-one or even eighteen,"
