Theodore

t a m a r i n d

"Be careful, be careful." Papa sighs as he watches me exit his car.

I grunt a bit, limping carefully, yet irritation builds up in me slowly but surely. I don't even want to know what happened to my ankle since it's hurting all the way like a terrible headache on a foot. I hear his door open as I round his car; his tall frame leans against the vehicle as he watches me get my bag from the boot.

My make-up is all good. I tried covering up that small dark bruise on my cheek, but it's not even that noticeable without makeup. I did beat my face with products though simply because I don't feel good. At least I look good. Let's not even get to the marks on my stomach and arms - the arms aren't even that bad compared to my stomach and thighs. I covered up well with my attire.

He holds a look of disapproval, so I know exactly what he's going to say.

"I know what you'll say. But I stand by what I said, she had no place or right to say that."

I've avoided her the whole of Saturday night and the rest of yesterday. Now and again, papa would tell me to come talk to her, to apologise because she's my mother. Please I'd rather freeze for a moment.

"I understand, but Dia you need to understand that she's your mother at the end of the day. You can't keep throwing words at her like that, or avoid her like she's nothing. Sometimes just let her speak alone. Ha bue seo ha batlang." [let her say as she pleases].

"But-"

"No buts." He comes closer and places his hand on my shoulder as if to comfort me. I can see the concerned look on his face, the very same expression he has been giving me this past weekend. "It may be hard to respect her, but I'm saying tolerate her. If you keep ticking her off, she will kick you out. O tlo ya kae? And you know your father would not approve. He does not-" [where will you go?

"Does not care about us, yes I know." I cut him off. It's better I say it than have him remind me. It's enough as it is, having my own mother remind me how worthless my biological father and I are, papa doesn't need to add on to it. "I don't know... maybe moving out doesn't sound like such a bad idea after all."

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't have enough money. All you need to do is stop trying to irritate her. Stop trying to push her to the point of abuse."

Abuse. So that's what we can call it, abuse. I refuse to sit (well, right now, stand and limp around) and accept any form of abuse from the woman I'm supposed to accept is my mother. What kind of logic and a third is that?

Perhaps realising that I won't exactly agree or argue with him, papa sighs a bit and pats my shoulder before folding his arms over his chest. "You'll be able to manage walking around today? You should have stayed at home to let your leg heal, you would have asked your friends to tell you what you missed."

"I'll be fine papa." I wave my hand at him as I adjust the strap of my bag. "Can't be bed resting because your wife put her hands on me-"

"Dia..." the undertone of warning is what tingles my ear, and I simply roll my eyes.

"Please come and fetch me after school. Maybe even a bit earlier to make life easier for me. Or if it becomes overwhelming, I'll just call you to fetch me."

He simply nods, and with that I limp my way to the gates of school, grunting when just a few people look at me like they're seeing a person disabled for the first time. Disabled? Yes, and I blame her who calls herself a mother. I'm not being dramatic, I'm just a realist with a hint of spice.

Never did I get back to Theodore's calls or texts, but I did read them. Nandi messaged too, sending me an invite to some party this coming Saturday - see I would go, but I'm disabled. I got a few other text messages too, and I did expect a message or five from Francois but nothing was sent. Maybe because he doesn't have my number - but then again he's popular he literally could have asked around - or maybe because I'm disabled.