Chapter 4: Where do we stand?

622 18 7
                                    

 Kimbella’s P.O.V

                             Last Thursday was really crazy. I can’t believe me and August kissed. We haven’t talked since then. I don’t think it’s because either of us are trying to avoid one another I think it’s just that we need time to think about what we might be getting ourselves into and what exactly did that kiss mean. Was he just caught up in the moment, did he genuinely mean it, or did he just do it just because he felt like kissing someone? I don’t know.

Today is April 13, the day my mom went missing, also the exact day she was found dead.  I was going to be a wreck today. I got up out of bed and went to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and the tears just fell. I just broke down. A lot of shit happened to me when I was young. I was raped repeatedly when I was only 8, and then again when I was twelve. I was bullied at school a lot because I was “the white girl who wanted to be black.” I never knew my father so honestly my mom and my brother was all I had. So to have her taken away from me really hurt. Even when we did move in with relatives, they treated us differently because we were “White chocolate”. You know, “white people” who acted “black”.

 I hated living with people that I barely knew, it frustrated me. They always acted like they were better than us and didn’t give a rat’s ass about what we did. The only reason that most of them took us in is because the state was giving them a check every month for $600. I’m not really close to any of my aunts or uncles. Or any of my cousins either, except for my aunt Nina, her daughter Jasmine, and her son Bishop.

Other than that, nobody gave a damn about me and my brother. That’s why he always told me to never expect anything from anyone, because you’ll always be disappointed, and I took that to the heart. I got up off the floor and pulled myself together. I would visit her grave site... if she had one. My aunt has this annual thing every year on the anniversary of her sister’s death. We all usually sit around and talk about how much we miss her and the memories that we had of her. My brother had all of a sudden decided to stop coming, we’ve gone two years without him being there. I think that the emotional toll is just too much for him sometimes. No matter how hard he acts my brother is a big water bucket. I just hope that he shows up this year, even though I’m pretty sure that won’t happen.

 I had to go to the store to bring something for the gathering. I put on a black baggy sweater that had “You mad bro?” written on it in gold letters. Some black tights and some gold glittery Uggs. That’s how I was feeling today, sluggish. I grabbed my bag and left.

                   I pulled up to my aunt’s house around 4:00. I hopped out of my car and walked up to the steps of my aunt’s suburban two stories home. From the outside looking in you would think that my life was a bowl full of cherries. You would think I had a great life. My aunt’s a lawyer, I’m a college student with my own car and two bedroom apartment, my cousins a catalog/magazine model, and my brother is a Dj.  And the rest of my family is doing well for themselves too. One big happy family right? Happy family my ass.

 My family puts on this facade as if everything is okay and like nothing bad ever happens in our lives. They give everyone this image of a wonderful family that’s close knit and doesn’t have any demons hidden in our closets. But that’s not us. It’s all an act, but just like every year I’m gonna hold my tongue. Ian always tells me that I need to speak up for myself and express how I feel instead of keeping my opinions and feelings to myself.

 I rang the doorbell twice, with the lemon pound cake and the chocolate ice cream cake still in my hands. I soon heard footsteps followed by an unlocking of the door. The door opened and revealed my Aunt’s peach colored skin and almond shaped eyes. Her mouth curved into a welcoming smile when she saw me. She pulled me into a hug, well not much of one because of the cake in between us.

UnorthodoxWhere stories live. Discover now