Our Split Ends

Chapter 1

Unedited
16 years ago on the 13th of August I was born. 16 years ago on the 20th of August the woman who gave birth to me left my father and I without a word.

And in all my 16 years of existence, I have never gotten a call or a message from her. I don't know how she looks. I never once even considered that one day I'd meet her.

That woman left my dad high and dry, leaving me motherless. Because of her I miss out on those sweet moments that most girls get to experience with they mother's.

For me, I've always felt like people who's loved ones dies unexpectedly have it better because they can live life knowing that the person who died , died loving them. But when your mother just skips town on you, you don't know what to think. Maybe I was the problem. Maybe I wasn't good enough.

And because of that, I hate her. I hate her for making me feel like I wasn't enough. But now I know I was enough. I am enough. Trust me it took me a while to figure that out. But now I know that I wasn't the one who wasn't enough, she was.

I zip up my last suitcase ,making sure to take a quick around my room to see if I've left anything. I grab my phone and plug in my earphones putting them on full blast in my utmost attempts to block out my raging thoughts.

As soon as I make my way to the front door, Mark takes my bags and carries them to his bakkie.

With one final look ,I say goodbye to my home as Mark speeds off towards the airport.

It's been a week since Kathy told me I was going to live with the she-devil. The next day it was my fathers funeral, a day I had been dreading.

The majority of my dads friends and colleagues from work were there. Even some of my friends and their parents came to say their goodbyes.

The whole day I had people coming up to me and telling me how sorry they were, which infuriated me. Why the hell were they sorry? Did they kill my father? No. So why do people feel the need to use "I'm Sorry" as a comforting word.

I'm jerked out of my thoughts when Mark's car comes to a sudden halt. When I glance out the window I see that we've made it to the airport

We get my bags out of the car and into the airport. when everything is sorted out I finally say goodbye to Mark keeping in mind that I might never see him again.

"Take car of yourself Liefie, I hope to see you again someday, okay?" He says as he pulls me into a airtight hug.

"Always," I whisper," and I hope so too."

"Promise me that you will try forgive her, vir jou pa" he pleas with distress evident in his voice.

I almost roll my eyes at the thought of the person whom he was referring to.

"Emphasis on Try, Oom," I say looking at my Nike takkies.

After saying goodbyes I went and bordered my plane to Johannesburg, South Africa.

From Johannesburg I bordered a plane to Los Angeles, California.

At least I get to travel to America, too bad my mo-Brooke lives there too. I officially hate my life.

After having to wait two hours at customs(which takes pretty damn long if your not American), I get my suit cases and begin my search for Brooke knowing full well that I don't know how she looks.

Just as I was about to give up on my search, I spot a tall, curvy woman holding up a piece of paper that reads Ayanda.

As soon as she spots me she quickly makes her way towards me.

She's very beautiful, I'll give her that.

Her long ,straightened, golden brown hair is tied up into a firm ponytail wiping around wildly as she makes her way to me.

Her caramel skin shimmers in the light, showing no wrinkles or pimples in sight.

Her plump lips appear nude unlike her eyelids and eyelashes with are tainted with a dark, purple eyeshadow and black eyeliner accentuating her big, light eyes.

She is mixed woman, quite fashionably dressed. Yep, that's my mom. She is exactly like how dad had described her.

"Ayanda?" she asks softly, a hint of anxiety evident in her voice

No, its barney, I mentally restrain myself from saying.

"Brooke,"