Do For Love

D.F.L. 1

Part I
TRAPPED

"You make me feel like a firefly. Trapped in a bell jar;
Starved for love."

Chapter 1
\ Houston Texas
July, 2011

Desza Karina Smith

My grandma would always tell me, "Life's challenges aren't always fair to everybody, I lived to see that, your momma lived to see that, and soon it will be your time," may her soul rest in peace. Of Course I believed what she said I just never ever thought it would've been so soon though; not at 19 years old.
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" Des!" "Desza!"

"Yes Ma I'll be out in a minute!"

I spoke loudly enough so she could hear me. One thing you don't wanna do is get on Mama Dorothy's bad side and having her calling three-four times without you answering would've done just that.

I wiped myself up and flushed the toilet then washed my hand before getting out and going into the kitchen where she was chewing on a piece of chicken.

" Yes mommy?"

" Took you long enough child."

"I was using the bathroom mom"

"Washed your hands?"

" Seriously ma"

"I have to ask, you young girls do everything in time nowadays just to get back to y'all phones; dont be washing your hands, dont be sayin' grace cause you have the phone at the dinner table which might i add you shouldn't be doing" she spoke

" Mama now you know i'm not like that and i only brought my phone to the dinner table once and that was only because I was reading an important email."

"Hmmm whatever anyways child, you only have a few days before you leave for New York whenever in August I need to finish buying the rest of stuff so you can finish packing up. I get paid soon so you need to write a list of the rest a stuff I need to buy."

"Oh yes mommy, thanks for reminding me I'll get it to you by the end of the day."

"Hmmm okay"

"And mom I'm gonna be staying over by Genesis tonight since you'll be doing night shift."

"Okay and make sure you behave yourself both of you should."

"As always mama."

I replied running upstairs to my room.

I know it is the cliche thing for anyone to love their mother, but the love I have for Dorothy Marj Smith is incomparable. She and my grandma Priya who is of Indian descent (which is why I got all this hair) is all I've known all my life. No siblings even though i always wanted a brother.

And my Dad? MIA since I popped out my momma's coochie. Everytime I asked ma about him she would just get silent or change the subject which hurts of course. I remember asking my grandma once, I was 10 at the time.

FLASHBACK

She was on the verandah crocheting a yellow, black and green hat. Said it was for a friend who lived back in Jamaica where she was originally birthed.