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NINETEEN SEVENTY-NINE
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A month later
Abhaya laid across her bed with a smooth teal telephone between the crook of her neck and ear.
She was on the phone with Michael talking about her decision on what college to choose.
She still had no clue, yet time was ticking over her head with a lingering impatience.
"Saint Augustine or Spelman. I'm so stuck, ugh!" Her annoyance kept resurfacing with a deep sigh as fingers ran through her untamed hair for the millionth time. Beyond measures, she was in the deepness of frustration.
It wasn't helping that Michael wasn't that helpful.
Abhaya noticed the mood of the conversation shift as soon as she brought up college. Michael suddenly became less opinionated and more indifferent on saying what he wanted to say.
Because what he wanted to say was a massive leap in terms of their relationship.
"Michael, I'm gonna slap you through this damn phone if you don't say anything!" Abhaya snapped.
Michael, who was sitting up in his bed with a picture in his free hand, dated back to 1972 of him and Abhaya when they were young, sighed to himself.
He was thinking deep and hard about how he was going to execute his words. What he was going to say had been on his mind a day after he arrived back in his hometown, and that had been about a month ago.
It was now June, one of the hottest months in the Summer. Michael's back was pressed against the bed's headboard with a slight stickiness from the sweat running down his flesh. The window in his room was opened for fresh air but was starting to become a nuisance because of the heat.
