Tiptoeing towards love

27

Kanimozhi

"Uh..." I groan as I recline on the bed with the feeling of something heavy weighing upon my head. No, I'm not about to act as though I am not aware of what transpired yesterday. I clearly remember every incidents that occurred the past day from the very beginning till the end when I slept on mama's chest.

My eyes snap open when I heed the footsteps outside and I quickly sneak inside the blanket, afraid of meeting my mama who had given me an astounding surprise with his presence the previous night. He told me he would come back after two weeks, which is why I confidently went to the club.

Now, not only was I caught by him in the place where he pressed me not to visit but I was found by him in a chaotic state while I was howling at that scoundrel who drugged me.

I cannot still wrap my head around how naive and sweet he came off to be when he offered me the drinks and then within a few minutes, he was a completely different person. Maybe this was why mama told me not to trust anyone easily and go to the club. However, the event was a good lesson to me and I will be very mindful henceforth.

Suddenly, halting my thoughts, I heed the door knob twisting and I seal my eyelids together, trying to pretend as If I'm in deep slumber. Beneath my blanket, my breath hits the thick and soft fabric warmly and I strive to regulate my uneven breathing but fail to do so as soon as my ears register the walking tone of my mama.

I was intoxicated the expired night and as a result, I felt quite bold and carefree to speak to him without editting out the uncensored thoughts in my brain. And me being drunk and out of my mind was the prime reason why mama hadn't slapped me or berated me.

I remember him claiming to have the impulse to slap me and I can also recollect concisely of what I responded back. It was embarrassing to reckon.

Abruptly, the blanket was heaved down my face and I lay there, exposed to the air conditioner set in a lower chill mode. My heart shrinks under my chest, beyond frightened to meet my mama.

But he smells good and manly that in my imagination, a tiny fragment of my brain cells created a scenario of me and my mama cuddling each other. It was sweet and before I could control it, a dreamy smile emerges on my lips.

That was how we slept yesterday.

"Why are you smiling like that? Are you dreaming about getting drunk again or what?" Mama clenches his fingers at the skin on my cheeks and pinches it, causing me to open my eyes and whine due to the pain.

"Ah, mama..." I sit up on the bed and grip his wrist but he doesn't spare me. "What did I say about going to club Mozhi ma...?" His words are sweet but his dangerous tone indicates how furious he still was on my noncompliance to his words.

"I will not go again, mama..." I trail off, trying to pry his hands off my cheeks. I'm sure my cheeks have gotten a pink tint by now. Is this the alternative of hitting on the cheeks?

"It pains," I admit, giving up on attempting to halt his infliction of pain on my cheeks. His hands retract as soon as he hears my words and I cup the left side of my cheeks and caress it to soothe the sting.

"You should have slapped me instead, this hurts," I grit out, frustrated and annoyed. "Right, move your hands, let me slap," stunned by his assertion, I stare up at him in misery and fear.

Does he not feel bad when he slaps me? Why does he want to do it?

"You have no right to slap me as you please. I did defy your words and went to the club. But it was a good experience mama. Apart from that idiot guy drugging me and trying to touch me...the rest of the time I spent there was convincing and wonderful. I danced along with the people there and I liked the music played by the DJ. Next time, we both should go there together and enjoy Mama. And, do not slap me. It is wrong and it hurts. You can advise me when I commit any errors but don't raise your hands. I don't like it, it's dreadful...," I utter what I genuinely feel in my heart and Mama keeps on eyeing me with the same facial reaction, as solid as a rock.