Kalopsia

| five |

Jelani Chanel Adisa

A few days have passed since Mazi and I's second date, and I would be lying to you if I said I haven't caught some feelings. Not only is he physically attractive, yet mentally too. It's seldom you'll find a man who is open to emotions. Mazi accepts vulnerability and deals with it the best ways he can, which is is funny because I am the complete opposite. I run from any emotions I feel I don't want to handle, not that I can't, I just hate feeling weak. Which is one reason as to why I absolutely despise crying.

The weekend approached quickly, and the laziness that normally follows hit me hard. My body sank deep into my bed. Similar to quicksand, the more I tried to pull myself out the harder it seemed. My phone buzzed often, yet I couldn't find the energy to even lift a finger, let alone pick up my phone and respond to messages.

The continuous buzzing of my phone made me groan, before sluggishly grabbing my phone and sliding my finger across the bottom of the screen.

"Hello?"

"I shouldn't have to call you this many times to get a damn answer Chanel." My mother stern yet delicate voice spoke. Placing her on speaker, I check my call log to see 2 other missed calls from her, damn near a thousand from the group chat and a few other calls.

"Ma you only called twice." Wiping the corners of my eyes, freeing myself of sleep, I sat up in my bed a little more.

"One too many. Anyways, I called because I miss you."

"I miss you too ma."

"Yeah, I hear you. We'll be coming down there soon. Your aunt is opening up her boutique on Peters Street and wants us to come for support." My mother's sister, Lareyna, has been living in Atlanta since she graduated from college and started an online boutique short after.

"Aw, okay. That's what's up." The phone grew quiet for a minute. I could tell there were trillions of things she were apprehensive to ask.

"You okay there baby?" Her voice barely above a whisper due to her speaking softer- as if that was any more possible, I get my babyish voice from her.

"I'm alright ma. I'll be fine."

"I know you will be fine Lani, I raised you to always stay strong, but that's a hard task and I'm here to help you. Not only as your mother, but your support system."

"I know mama, and I love you for that. I'm okay, I promise. Where's Papa?" Sighing, she cleared her throat lightly.

"Right here, James get the phone."

"Kedu onye ọ bụ?" My fathers rich baritone voice called from a far, yet I knew his accent from anywhere. Being my grandmothers first born, everything Ibo she knew, he knew, which was then passed to us.

"Your daughter, now here." Assuming the quiet on the phone was it being passed between the two, I put the phone on speaker and busied myself by looking at Snapchat stories.

"Nwa nwa! How are you baby?" Igbo is spoken often in our home, especially since my grandmother had passed. My father said that he wanted us to remember as much of her as possible, which resulted in the whole family knowing Igbo. Now, we are not your traditional Ibo family. My mother is a strong black female born and raised in Detroit, brung up by soul food and the streets of Seven Mile. Therefore, the majority of her up bringing is what we know, it's just some of our Nigerian culture added.