Aya's Story

Chapter 1: RIP MaMa (EDITED)

Aya P.O.V

It 2:00 a.m in the morning I'm in bed drawing a piece, it is a black woman with hair like mine. I draw a lot to take away the stress of the world.  I have been drawing since I could remember. My father used to take me to art galleries when I was younger, however,  art is just a hobby for now. My true passion is being on television. The woman, I'm drawing is me,  with the world on my shoulders. They say art is the reflection of our reality well, being black, young and gifted can be a burden sometimes. 

My room is medium size, we live in a three-bedroom house on the west side of town. I chose to live in the attic because I have more space and privacy. Well as much privacy you can get with African parents. I'm currently on summer vacation, I graduated this year from high school. My parents were proud. But I know if I didn't graduate they would have shamed me. African parents don't play about education. It is July now, so the heat is blazing, that is NY and climate change for you. Cold winters and hot summers. The window is cracked open because there is no air condition up here. You can hear the drug dealers and the prostitutes arguing on the street corner. I can't really knock their hustle, some people sell drugs and some chooses sell pussy. While others would rather wear a suit and be corrupt. What makes those in the government less different than niggas on my street corner?

I hear yelling from outside my bedroom door, it is my parents again. This is their fourth argument this week. Whether we want to accept it or not my mother is dying.  A few months prior to my graduation, we found out that she had breast cancer. She refuses to continue chemotherapy because she sees it as a waste of time and money. I think she is selfish and self-centered. Am I wrong for wanting her to be here for all of my life moment? Do not get me wrong, I love my father but how am I supposed to become a woman without a mother. His loud as voice can be heard from up here. Is he trying to wake up our nosey neighbors that like to gossip? I should go downstairs before this escalates into something bigger. I put my artwork on my desk and find my pants, I hate sleeping with pant on. I opened the door to my room and quietly went down the stairs. My mother is sitting on the brown loveseat alone. She is softly crying, while my father is pacing back and forth. He does that to control his anger. I sit at the top of the stairs where I can see and hear them, but not be seen or heard. My mother lifts her face from her hand, her beautiful dark complexion has lost its glow. She is wearing her Lappa or African head wrap around her head. She doesn't show her hair anymore, cancer has brought out a lot of her insecurities. She's so frail, but she refuses to let us see her be weak. She coughs and my father stops his pacing and sits next to her.

"John there no point of you wasting the money we are saving to send Kimberly to college on my cancer treatment," said my mom.

"Jackie what do you mean don't spend money on your cancer treatment. Your dying for fuck sake-"

"STOP! Okay, your right I am dying and the doctor told me that I only have 2 months or less to live. So instead of us wasting our money and time, why don't you let me spend my last 3 month with the man I love, and the family I'm about to leave."  

I'm still sitting on the stairs, in shock. my body is paralyzed but my mind is racing. The realization that my mother is actually dying and there is nothing I can do. I'm angry but underneath it all I'm terrified. I run down the stairs trying not to fall, both of my parents look up.

"Aya, what are you doing, I thought you were sleeping?"  

 She tries to quickly wipe her face. My father is in shock, he must be trying process this also. I walk to the couch and sit on the ground by her feet. My head is on her knee as I cry, she gently plays with my hair.

"Please don't leave us, mama, please not right now.  Please." 

"Everything will be ok honey, God has a plan. Go back to sleep, well discuss this in the morning,"  

Her brown eyes held so much sadness, maybe it just me projecting my sadness unto her. she kissed my head before I got up. I walked up the stairs, I look back at both of them. My mother trying to appear happy and my father crying. that was the first time I ever saw him cry.

When I finally reached my room I fell on top of my bed and cried. I decided to talk to the one man willing to listen.

"Lord, I know we haven't spoken in a while but, please don't take my mama. If she survives this I swear I'll go to church every Wednesday and Sunday lord please I'm begging you. Give me a sign please if you're listening" 

3 Weeks  Later

I guess he wasn't listening. What did I expect? That a higher being with magic powers to come and save my mama? My mother is dead, Gone are the memories, the good time and bad time. I wouldn't mind going back to the bad time if it means that I get to see her again. I have to be strong thought, not just for me but my dad. I have to be his strong soldier, that's what mama would've wanted. The weight of the world might get heavy but I will keep my head up.