His Emancipator🖤 [His Duet #1]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"I will."

She skips off my desk. "I'll call you tonight and tomorrow morning. I love you."

"Love you too."

Later that night I decline my father's offer to join me at mama's grave tomorrow. If I'm doing this, it has to be alone. The night is no different from the previous ones. Sleep is still as nonexistent as Roach's hair.

I'm scared of closing my eyes because when I do, all I'll hear is the shot preceded by the sight of her dead body on the hospital bed. If I'm lucky to get some sleep, it's plagued with nightmares and if not, I end up sobbing the night away.

They say no parent should ever have to bury their child but the vice versa is just as bad if not lethal. The grief never ends nor is it programmed. You don't sleep through it or work through it because at the end of the day it will crawl with you to bed and spoon you. In the morning, it'll be by your bedside waiting to follow you around like a lost puppy.

God, I miss her. She was my best friend.

The next morning, twenty fourth of September to be exact, I wake up with a mild migraine from crying almost all night. I fight the urge to check my reflection in the mirror because I can only imagine what I look like.

My agenda today is simple: Reminisce the good old days because it seems like something she would want me to do on her anniversary and then visit her grave later. Before I can get to that, my phone rings.

"Hey you." Kira's troubled voice drones through the mouthpiece.

"Hey." I reply monotonously.

"Are you okay? Should I come over?" I hear the worry clear in her tone.

"No. I'm fine. Really. You don't need to come over."

"Are you sure? Screw this job. You're more important."

I slip the photo album off my shelf. "Kira I'm totally fine. I'll call if I need you."

"Promise?"

"I promise Kira." I reply with certainty.

"Okay bye, love you."

"Love you."

With a profound feeling of determination, I start flipping through the photos. Some of them are Mom's before she had me. She and her high school friend were thick as thieves but somewhere along the way they drifted apart. I don't know if she is familiar from the burial but some of her features remind me of Darelle. What are the chances they're related?

I flip through the album and finally get to my favorite photo. Me, mom and grandma when we first visited Senegal. Of course jollof rice was what she prepared for us. She bragged how it first originated from Senegal. Technically it is traced to Senegambian region that was ruled by the Wolof/Jolof empire in the 14th century hence the name.

I run my fingers over the photo, a longing gap filling my chest. I miss them both. Grandma died five years after mom.

The next range of pictures are of me and mom on vacations and the time we visited Kenya. My dad's homeland. She loved the country even before she met my dad. He was just a spice to the love. Until he wasn't.

In the next ten or so minutes, I flick page after page of the fond memories like she's there with me.

~~~~~~~~

In loving memory of

Celine Faye Adama

1979-2012

Beloved Mother, Daughter and friend.

Your absence will always be felt.

I stare at my mom's gravestone lengthily, the lilies next to it a sign that someone was here before me. Probably my father.

"Hey mom." I pause, wishing she could answer.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited in a while it's just been-" I sigh deeply, sinking to the ground. "I miss you so much."

Uncontrollable tears rush down my cheeks. "Why did you have to go so soon?" I lament through tears. "This isn't how it was supposed to end." She didn't even get to see me be valedictorian. I had this speech conjured up but it became useless once I stepped on that stage. I ended up delivering a speech in her honor. She gave me so much and yet so little.

"In the past few weeks I've met a friend. His name is Darelle. You should see him. Wait do you see him from up there or wherever?" I laugh through the tears. "I'm helping him with something which I guess you probably also know." I sniffle.

"He's nice. I think he's the only person I've made friends with after Kira." I explain as I run my fingers on the plaque.

"I miss you, Mama. So so much. You left when I needed you the most. I can't understand how I'm still surviving without you. I've been trying so hard but at some point it's not enough." It never will be.

"I need you here." I weep some more. "I feel so empty without you"

I spend the next hour saying anything and everything that comes to mind. All while bawling my eyes out. But I know she heard me. She must have.

By the time I make a decision to head back home, the bright weather, has now turned darker than the bottom of my grandma's clay pot. Fine drops of rain drench my t-shirt as I make haste for my car.

Once I switch on the ignition, the aux mocks me when it begins playing In the stars by Benson Boone. My tears flood back like a hailstorm when the song reaches the chorus.

I know I'm far gone when I begin to struggle to breathe. My fear and thoughts clashing in an unfixable mess until all I can see is blur.

My hands tremble on the steering wheel. Despite the cold weather, hot flashes invade my skin. I try to recall everything my therapist taught me but I'm blank. The patters of rain grow heavier but the only sound I can register is my heart beating rapidly against my ribcage.

I've had my Aston Martin for years and though it's always felt small, now it feels ten times smaller. I fight to reach that part of my brain that knows what to do to control my attacks but it's all nothing. I can't drive in this state. The attack will only get worse now that I can't tame it.

Kira will know what to do. I fumble for my phone in my purse. She picks up on the second ring and I don't give her a chance to talk. "Come pick me up at the cemetery." I force out before cutting the call.

The claustrophobia eventually pulls me out of the car. I slump onto the ground next to my car. "She's gonna be here. She's gonna be here." I repeat the words to myself like a mantra, hoping they'll ease my nose diving nerves.

Except she's not the one who comes.