love and basketball || urban fiction

01: the birthday party

Aiesha's point of view.

Having the courage to bring my face toward my mom, I let a tear slip from eyes, wishing I didn't go through the great lengths to host a damn party.

With pink balloons scattered across the floor and white streamers draped over every possible furniture in the entire house, not a soul came to my seventeenth birthday party, not even my sister or best friend.

"Honey, maybe they will come in a couple of minutes," my mom tried to pat me on the back as she wore her pink apron to cover her clothes. "You know how California traffic is."

Blinking rapidly to keep the tears from coming down in great lengths, she knew that there wasn't any traffic today.

"It's been two hours Mom," I whispered mostly to myself as I remembered passing out the invitations at school one week prior. "I think it's time for me to clean up and get ready for church tomorrow."

Having her help me clean up the mess we both created, I was already disappointed at the fact that I did not get a gift in the mail or even a call from my Dad, but now it was this.

He most likely probably forgot that it was an important day or better yet didn't care if I was celebrating it or not.

Popping every balloon in sight with a safety pin, I was determined not to feel any less pain than I already have.

"Devante probably at basketball practice," she tried to throw at me while we got straight to cleaning up. "You know how he is with that basketball."

Nodding my head as I helped her, maybe she was right.

He was forgetful when it came to important stuff after all, but it still made me feel a certain way.

"Yeah, you're right," I agreed. "I forgot how Devante is."

"And honey, everyone else is just dumb for not coming to the party of the year!" She tried cheering me up as she pinched my cheek.

Smiling just a little bit, my mother was the best.

Even if today wasn't the best of all days, she somehow still made it easier than it was.

Cleaning everything up and eating my birthday cake all by myself, I turned the living room's tv on and browsed the guide.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," my mother said from behind me as I sat on the couch with my head rested on the back of it.

"Okay," I responded, not taking my swollen eyes off the television screen.

Stopping at the channel the showcased the episode of Martin where he and Gina won the lottery, I took down a spoonful of the chocolate cake, hoping that this will cure me of the sadness I was feeling deep down inside.

---

Pulling my dress down to hopefully cover my knees from the bossy church ladies, I trailed my eyes over to my father's family as our long-winded pastor kept preaching his message from the book of Psalms to his pulpit after an hour of him singing or trying to.

Bringing my hand to my mouth as I tried to stiffen a yawn, I sat on the other side of the church with my mother, trying not fall asleep.

Sometimes I wished I was sitting right next to them, and feel like I was part of their perfect family, even if it was just for a little while.

Don't get me wrong, my mother was my everything and I wouldn't trade her for anything, but sometimes I wanted a father who gave both of his daughters the attention he gave to only one.

To other eyes, including mines, that was a simple thing to do.

But after years of him abandoning us to start a new life with someone else, I somehow figured that we weren't good enough for him.

Feeling my mother eyes on mine as I stared at the perfect family, I turned my head back to the minister, wishing this day could be over with already.

"The Lord is our savior!" The pastor cried out to us with a hit of his hands to the pulpit. "Am I right about it?"

"Amen," a few churchgoers, including my mom, responded to his stupid rhetorical question as I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

Checking the time on the clock behind the choir stand, it was going on two o'clock in the evening and he still wasn't done.

Tapping my mother on the shoulder to get her attention, I pointed to the time on the clock, telling her that I had to leave for work.

Nodding her head in understanding, I got up quietly from the seat, but not before I gave a last glance at my father.

Catching his eyes on mine as I made my way to the double doors, I smiled and waved as I finally got his attention after ten years of him being at my touch, but yet still so far away from me.

Watching in hurt as he turned his head back to the pastor without giving me anything, not even a small smile or a wave, I wiped the stray tear from my face as I walked out of the church's building without giving him or the place I called home a second glance.

Taking out the letter I written for his sorry ass from the purse I was holding, I walked up to his car before sticking the white piece of crumpled paper inside the windshield wiper.

Content on what it had on it, I left for my own car to head off to work.

I was tired trying to reach out to him when obviously he didn't want to be contacted by me.

Making sure I had my clothes to change in when I got there, I was somewhat glad that my job included my best friend, Devante.

Maybe he had a birthday gift waiting for me there to cheer me up.