MULATTO (Iyila) (Editing)

Chapter fifty eight

Iyila struggled to pilot Deila’s satire with a forced grin whilst her palm burned with a raging need to plant it’s print on Deila’s cheek. But instead, with pride and defiancy, Iyila squared her shoulder, tilted her chin and turned to acknowledge Deila’s undesired presence. “How are you?” she asked casually, striving to hide her frustration and anger.
Deila smiled, her shoulder simultaneously lifting in a small non-chalant shrug.

“I am fine, buh ha don nee to ask how ya doin? Tis already clear dah yo’ massa’s taking care of ya,” Deila answered, sarcasm still apparent in her tone, making Iyila’s face curl into an irritable frown but she schooled her temper, knowing that an outburst would only attract an attention that was beyond her capabilities now, especially with Dede around.

She knew Dede deserved the truth, but if he was to ever learn of it, Iyila thought it was supposed to be from her lips, on her terms, time, and venue. Not through some unplanned rueful banter. Yet ignoring Deila’s scorn again, Iyila returned her attention to Tari. Cupping Tari’s rosy cheeks in her palms Iyila said “I have to go love, but I will see you later. There are other things I---”
“Oh ya have nothing to do!” Deila sharply interrupted. “After all yo massa ain't ’round or is there another yo aint telling us ’bout?”
Iyila’s throat tightened and the hair at the back of her neck stood like a protective tigress.

How dare Deila!

Slowly, she swirled around to meet Deila’s face, her stare as cold as ice as she muttered in a low deadly tone that caused Deila to flinch involuntarily. “Leave me alone!” Iyila sternly warned and returned to Tari again who’s expression was now blank, pure innocent confusion, her eyes softened. “Oh Tari I am--”
“Yo a disgrace to we black folks, yo aint one of us--not anymore!” Deila uttered as Iyila opened her mouth to speak to the little girl, forcing the words to hang in her throat like bubbles. “Yo ain't a Negro Iyila, yo ain't one of us no more!”

Iyila flinched and shut her eyes. Deila’s words filled with undisguised hate and contempt hit her like the stab on the back that dug deep into her heart. Though her expectancy of such malice had been strong, she had always known it would be one of the many prices  she would have to pay for loving Gabriel. It was, however, altogether painful. It stung deep and forced tears to her eyes. Her back straightened and for a while she was indecisive how to react. Still fighting to hold back her tears and uncertainty, golden eyes twirled to meet dark ones clouded with strong dissaproval. Her heart sank.

How did she know? She wondered aimlessly, remembering how she and Gabriel had employed extreme care in guiding their verborten relationship which was only recently acquiesced.
Had Deila seen the signs even before she regarded her feelings for Gabriel? Was it his kind treatment towards her? Had Deila caught them kissing the day he left?

Oh, all these thoughts plagued her mind as she gazed at Deila, none which had any logical backing. Oh and Dede! Has she spoken to him?  What would he do to her! What would he think of her! He will never forgive me...and Mama Brown...

“Deila...” she shakly whispered, doubtful of what to utter but Deila shushed her with a dismissive wave of the hand before she could arrange more words. “Iyila ya don nee to worry, ya don nee ter say notin to me...” a wave of pain rolled over her beautiful face as she cotinued.
“As for me--ya--ya notin buh dead!”
“Deila!” she cried no longer stopping the tears from staining her cheeks and that instant a sudden afflicting pain replaced her former anger.

The urge to rush to Deila and explain all to her, to make her understand that she’d never intended to hurt them mostly Dede stubbornly tugged beneath her feet but her legs wouldn't obey her out of fear of Deila’s rejection or a possible outburst she wouldn’t be able to control.