Against society [AMBW]

Chapter Forty

W12- Wednesday

"Ma, what brings you here?" I sigh, slowly sitting up from the beanbag.

"Are you enjoying yourselves?" Adrian pauses the movie, not at all shocked or frightened of my mother's sudden appearance.

"Yes, are you?" I slurp the top of the vimto can removing all liquid, making the sound everyone including myself hates.

"I just came to check on the two of you." She plays at her hands, in a formal manner. One of which conveys uncertainty and awkwardness, but I don't blame her. I would also feel on edge if my daughter discovered a life-changing secret.

"What do you mean 'check'?" I air quote her words, flashing a glance at Adrian's now emotionless face. The face he despised me with when he first started the school, it's unwelcoming. It's cold and distant and instantly acts as a barrier between the two of us. Although as soon he seems to have noticed, the face vanishes returning to it's calm self.

"Is he the one?" She steps further into the corner, hands in hands. I can hardly see her cold dark eyes due to all of the darkness, nonetheless, I know it's the same as always.

I let the suspense of my answer linger on, as attempt to see through the dark nothing concealing her. I want to know what's on her mind, what's making her act up like this? It's not normal to ask a question about someone who is besides them.

"Ma!" I shout-whisper, drowned with embarrassment of such a question. Only the sound of breathing and the fan overtakes the silence in the room. They still want an answer from me. Why? For what?

"Is he the one?" She repeats, continuing the confrontation.

Instead of being surrounded by a place of books and candles, the foreign atmosphere of bright white takes over. The bright white walls slowly push inwards confiding me to a smaller space. It's the feeling of water smashing against your lungs, life-threatening decisions weighing you down. Pressure!

"Do I have to know if he's the one? Do I have to know if he'll marry me? If we'll live together? If he'll be the father to my child? Do I have to plan out every activity in my life... or can I just live? Can't I find that out along the way?"

"I only want the best for you..." She mumbles, drawing out the words, lie by lie.

"You want the best for you. You don't want your child to be known as 'the girl who ran away with the Asian guy'. But you seem to forget... that I'm only following in your footsteps."

She gasps making an inaudible sound. It's easy to know she never expected me to say such a thing. She's not been told the truth before. No one talks back to her, we all listen then leave. She doesn't get attention. And maybe that's what she wants. She doesn't get attention from her kids if it's not by her command, and she certainly isn't loved in the unrequited relationship she calls marriage. Maybe she's jealous.

"Faviola Dele? I allowed him to set this up to make you happy and stop moping around the house like a typical negress!"

The impact on her last words causes a gasp for air. The words no daughter should hear her mother call her. It's a word used to dehumanise and degrade darkskin girls. Instead of using a bunch of words to generalise dark skin girls, they rested upon negress to sum it up.

My eyes shut and I count to three. I take a deep breathe in- clearing my head.

Breathe out- ignore what she said.

Breathe in- Positivity.

Breathe out- Negativity.

Breathe in- Be grateful.