Beneath The Waterfall

home

Banged up, scratched, and exhausted, I was finally home, but Mama's car wasn't in the driveway. Figures.

I blew a heavy sigh, parking Barbie on the porch before trekking my way into the house. Kicking my shoes off by the door, I took a look around the living room. The place was clean, which meant Mama must have been around for a bit before leaving for her night shift. She worked the bowling alley at night and I sort of hated it because she always came home smelling like cigarettes and cheap cologne.

The plus side was that she only worked there twice a week, Friday's and Sunday's, and not only that, she cooked good meals on those nights to make up for her absence. I could smell food coming from the kitchen.

I loved my cozy home. It was a cottage, tucked between yellow birch trees and several pines and maples. There was a lot of land that surrounded our home, many acres that'd been bought by my grandparents and inherited to us.

We lived in a three bedroom house that'd been passed down to my father from Nana Kaimana and Papa Walter. This home was my childhood. The walls of the living room were painted a light shade of gray and the floors were made of dark brown hard wood. Mama always kept the floors polished. She loved cleaning.

Nana Kaimana was Cherokee and Waccamaw. She was my father's mother and he was her only child. She had passed her Native-American blood down to him, while Papa Walter passed down his smooth blend of Caucasian. Yep, Nana Kaimana had fallen in love with a man her family despised.

When she was around, she always told me stories about how she defied her parents by falling for the wrong kind of man. She'd left her family, who was still a large, well known tribe in the Appalachian mountains, and came to Nantahala to be with him.

Unfortunately Papa passed long before Nana. I only remembered fragments of memories about him. All of them were good and all of them made me smile.

Dropping my backpack beside the sofa, I made way to the kitchen, where the table was set with bowls and plates covered with aluminum foil. I unwrapped them all, and there was baked chicken, corn, and potatoes. My belly growled at the sight of it. I hadn't eaten since lunch at noon.

I grabbed a cob of corn and waltzed to the fridge, spotting a note written on the notepad I shared with Mama if we needed to update each other, or to just say we loved one another.

Won't be back until 3 a.m., baby. See you in the morning. Kisses!

I sighed and went back to the table, making myself a plate and devouring every bite. I cleaned up a bit before going to my bathroom and taking a hot shower. Afterwards, I checked the mirror and was glad there were no bruises on my face, other than the cut on my forehead. Mama would flip when she saw it, but I refused to tell her I was on that trail or that I'd run into a Maverick. I could think of an excuse before morning.

Finally, it was time to curl up with my book in bed. I took a look around my room, from the twin-sized bed against the north wall, swathed in a brown and white comforter, to the random posters on the wall. I had a lot of quote posters, some about books, others about rainbows. I also had one Black Panther poster I really loved of all the Wakanda women, as well as a Kendrick Lamar poster that was formerly Leon's. He really love Kendrick.

I settled into bed and read a few pages, but then my thoughts took over, distracting me completely.

Colin came to mind again.
God, why couldn't I get him out of my head? I mean, yes, there were moments when I thought about him because sometimes I felt really bad for him, but I never thought about him like this. Not while at home.

I found it strange that Colin was showing up more and more often. It started as a trickle, along with a few stares. There were even a few slight bumps in the hallway that I'd totally looked over, but now he was getting too close. Touching and watching.