Finding Her (urban)

Chapter 1 - Papa

I never knew my father...

They say he was a handsome man, with the smoothest brown skin that could rival that of the finest brass. An emerald green ocean swept through the irises of his eyes, it was such a contrast to his complexion. That's where I got my eyes from; apparently my dimples too. He was a tall man, maybe around 6'5, everybody's hands would wander around that height when describing him, I didn't inherit that though. I was told his laugh could lighten up the darkest souls, maybe that's what I needed to hear. Too bad he didn't stick around until I even developed into an embryo. Bastard.

I'm tired of letting his mistakes affect the life that I should be living. I'm too old to be waiting for an apology from a sorry excuse of a man who never wanted me. Can you judge me for wanting one though? If half of me is missing, what can I substitute it with to make me whole? This bottle in my hand was doing a good job at the moment. The brown liquor was enticing me like a siren to the sailors yet had engulfed my insides with flames that could rival my own. The pain subsides for a minute, so I have to keep swallowing this poison until it runs out; I wish this henny was everlasting.

He knew, he knew exactly where I was, well that's what she told me anyway; she, my mother. I could never disrespect the woman who gave me life even though she was never home, 'cause at least I got a home. I always say to myself 'some people have it worse than me' but it doesn't make my situation any less wrong. I just wished she was here sometimes so we could talk; I have feelings too that need to be shared. If I had friends maybe I could talk to them; and if I wasn't so disconnected from my family, maybe I could rely on them.

Nobody on my mother's side really wanted to know me because I was an 'abomination' a 'mixed breed', they saw me as only being half as good, half useless and half black. My father was straight from the heart of Africa, looking for a woman overseas to get a visa; I guess my mother was that fool. After she conceived me, she never heard from him again; well that's what she told me.

She reminded me, the few days she was home to always love all of me; and that people hate what they don't understand, so if you understand yourself then that's all that matters. I knew what I was, a fucked up girl with lots of insecurities; excuse my profanity, I'm just trying to fit in.

'See who's at the door Ariana,' My mother hollered from her room. Sighing, I put my pen down, closed my diary and held it to my chest trying to reclaim the emotions that these last pages just stole from me. I was feeling relieved, but I liked the pain in a way - sadist. I was a living contradiction, I wanted to wallow in pain yet I was here drinking for it to go away. Make up your mind Ariana. Maybe it's the alcohol...

I placed my diary safely underneath my dainty pillow that I made out of old fabrics and unwanted material ready to be thrown out. My living conditions weren't the best, but I could survive here. My room was painted a pale yellow with wall scrapings peeling and leaning back like a fat joe video. My small collection of shoes were stacked across the left side of the room facing the wall filled with pictures that I drew a while ago; a hobby I gave up on. I had a little closet to store the couple clothes that I owned, it wasn't much. Below me was my mattress, no bed just a mattress with springs so close to the surface it could bruise somebody, somebody like me.

The door, right. I slowly got up from my bed rubbing the side of my thighs already feeling the bruises forming; maybe I should sleep on top of some clothes next time. Our apartment complex was small but spacious in the sense that we had separate bedrooms. The living room was outside of my room, with a small kitchen connected to it and the bathroom was what separated my room from my mother's.

I looked through the key hole and noticed that nobody was behind the door; oddly enough a letter lay positioned near my feet that were covered with odd socks. One had a hole near the big toe, I have to remember to sew that up again. We rarely got any letters. After examining it from a distance like it was a strange intergalactic package, I finally picked it up and opened it. In bold letters it read 'EVICTION NOTICE'. Apparently this was our third eviction notice reminding us that we had to be out by tomorrow?

Never in my life had I called out my mother wrongly but these past couple years she had been asking for it and this was the icing on the cake. I'd describe myself as being an introvert but I was about to burst any minute right now; count to ten, breathe.. Fuck this shit.

'Mom!' My voice boomed through the empty apartment causing lower pitched echoes to erupt in rounds like a church choir. I knew her lazy behind would refrain from answering the call; she's probably still in bed drinking, I should know, she's my alcohol supplier. We had so much alcohol stored up in this place yet we had no food, gas or electricity, the necessities had now become rewards and bonuses.

I stormed to her room putting emphasis in my stomps, shaking the already worn out wooden floors that sheltered the many insects that lived with us. I slammed open her door to see my mother sloppily laid over her bed with her head tilted over a bin.

'Shhh mija, I've got a hang over,' Her finger failed to reach her lips as she hauled out a disgusting brown liquid with chunks of food in it.

'No, we are being thrown out tomorrow and you didn't think to tell me,' I looked at her with disgust.

'So what are you going to do about it?' She stared at me with her brown sunken lifeless eyes as if she was looking into my soul. 'I've looked after you for these past twenty years, I've done my job; go and look after yourself. Now close my door when you're done staring at my face.'

I had already planned the insults in my head but vocally expressing them wouldn't make a difference; she was wiping her hands off me. I should have saw this coming; I was 20 with nothing to show for it. After I graduated from high school I became a home body, I could have gone to university; who am I kidding? I barely graduated from high school. I didn't even bother to look for a job; I never complained about my living situation because I never tried to change it.

'Mom?' I asked quietly; she looked up. 'Where am I gonna go?'

'You see that body mija, use it,'

I knew what she meant, that had been her job for the last 8 years and on a few occasions she would bring back home some of her clients. Sometimes I'd peak through my door and watch them on the couch snuggle up before they made it to her room. I wondered if any of them were my father.

I never knew my father...

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