Your Forgotten

• vii •

This Chapter is dedicated to Angelwings22222  for her encouraging comments and being my first voter.

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11:59pm
Sunday, 28th of May 2017.

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To the woman who birthed me,

This morning you dressed up for church and told me to stay behind.

I wasn't bothered though, I'd rather stay at home than go to that church with everyone's noses up in the air.

I watched you walk down the stairs in your expensive heels and a dress I haven't seen before, you woke up quite early and probably spent an hour on your face.

You got into the car and played a gospel song, singing along as you drove off.

While you were gone I imagined you sitting in your favourite spot at the front, with your hands raised up in worship like everyone else, dabbing at the side your eyes so your make up doesn't get ruined, being the first to stand up when there's a church donation so everyone notices your 'good deed'.

Why would I want to go to a church where everyone's afraid to repeat an outfit? Where everything's about your image? No thank you, I'd rather sit at home and keep up with the Kardashians.

By the time you came back your joyful mood was gone and you looked pale.

Before I could muster up the courage to ask what was wrong, I heard the sound of a jeep driving in and I figured out why.

An unexpected visit from Aunt Onyi and her equally stuck up children were enough to put a damper on anyone's mood. Lucky for me, I'm still supposed to be in school so I don't have to put up with those two spawns of Satan.

For as long as I can remember, there has always been some sort of rivalry between you and Aunt Onyi. And I've always been caught in the middle.

Margaret, Aunt's first daughter, started taking piano lessons and you made me do the same.

I told you I preferred the drums, but God forbid if your offspring mistakenly becomes a drummer.

You made me take Ballet classes and make a fool out of myself because Izzy did too. I loved street dance but you said it was 'unladylike'.

There's no such thing as what Mola wants or likes because apparently 'I have bad tastes and I'm prone to making horrible choices. That's why I have you to make tough decisions for me'.

Next session you want me to join the sciences so I can study to be a doctor just like Maggie.

You want me to study and be well behaved so I can become school president just like Maggie.

You want me to eat rabbit food so I can be in better shape just like Maggie.

You want me to join the church choir just like Maggie so you can point at me to your friends and say "that's my daughter".

Guess what ma, The 'L' on my T-shirt label doesn't stand for Loser, I prefer literature to chemistry, the drums are way more fun, I think I'm beginning to like the plus to my size.

If you can't accept me for Mola, then you have enough money to buy a million Margarets.

Your Forgotten,
Mola.