Watercolors (B.A.)

Chapter Five

Picasso

Amina always listened to music when she cleaned. Sunday was the designated cleaning day in her house, and it was so big of a deal that they even had a schedule taped on the fridge. It was Amina's turn to clean the downstairs bathroom, and mop the kitchen floor.

The wet rubber of her yellow gloves squeaked against the hard plastic mop handle. Amina could barely hear it though, with her phone in her back pocket, and her headphones blasting Suavemente by Elvis Crespo. Spanish music was the one thing that always got her through cleaning day.

After about 10 minutes of mopping, Amina stood all the way up, feeling her lower back ache. A buzz in her pocket caused her to take off her gloves, and check her phone. The last thing she expected was a text from an unknown number.

Hey, Amina. It's Brandon. I got your number from Nick. Do you think I could drop by at some point today? I have something I need to give to you.

Amina's eyebrows furrowed as she texted back a simple, sure, drop by whenever, followed by her address.

Even though he apologized, her and Brandon were not exactly on the friend level yet. She appreciated the sentiment, but she wasn't sure she wanted whatever Brandon had to give to her. Amina's mother told her from a very young age not to accept gifts from strangers, but she wasn't exactly sure this counted as one of those instances. She just sighed, put her rubber gloves back on, and continued to mop.

Amina was folding her and her sister's laundry on the living room couch when the doorbell rang three hours later. Cheyenne, coming out of nowhere, rushed to answer it. The thought that it could be Brandon completely slipped Amina's mind until she heard her sister's obnoxious pre-pubescent voice.

"Who are you?"

Amina could not have jumped out of her seat faster, rushing to the door, and pushing Cheyenne out of the way. Her little sister huffed, rolling her eyes, and climbed the stairs.

Brandon was dressed nicely--too nicely for a random Sunday afternoon, Amina thought. His curly hair was done in his everyday style, and he sported his gold chain that always seemed to catch Amina's eye. He was in a simple white t-shirt with black pants, a green and white jacket over top, and spotless white sneakers. Amina instantly felt self conscious about her three sizes too small gray tank top and black joggers. Even her hair was left up in a frizzy afro-puff; her edges weren't even slicked down.

"Hey," Brandon smiled, adjusting his glasses on his face. He held a paper shopping bag in his other hand, and Amina found herself wondering what was in it.

"Hey! Um, sorry about my sister. Twelve year olds can be annoying sometimes."

"No, no. Don't worry about it. She's adorable. You guys look just alike."

Amina internally cringed, knowing that her little sister was way prettier than she could ever be. She just smiled. "Thanks. Come on in."

"Actually," Brandon interjected. "I have to go, but I just wanted to give you this."

"Thanks?" Amina was thoroughly creeped out as Brandon handed over the bag to her.

"You're welcome. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you."

Amina's brows were still furrowed as she gentle closed and locked her front door. She attempted to peek in the bag, only to hear her sister's voice repeatedly calling her name.

"Mimi! Mimi, who was that?" Cheyenne practically yelled.

"Yes, who was that?" Amina's father rounded the corner to meet her. "I've never seen him before."