Spreading Wings

Spreading Wings - Chapter 2

    Mom's mouth was open, but nothing came out. Instead, tears started streaming down her face as she collapsed into her chair.

    Why did I always make things worse?

    I walked slowly to her. Mom put her head in her arms again, shaking profoundly.

    Gently, I placed a hand on her shoulder. I wasn’t exactly the ‘friendly’ type, so the touch felt strange. Foreign. However, I knew it was the right thing to do.

    She didn't respond.

    Well, here goes nothing.

    “Mom….I - I didn't mean - I mean, I didn't know that…well, I didn't realize that…I thought that - ”

    Ok, this wasn't getting my anywhere.

    Now what? I took a deep breath. Plan B.

    “I'm sorry.”

    There. I said it.

    I'm not a big believer in words. Talking, writing…communication in general is a sore spot for me. So I didn't expect those 2 words to help much.

    I couldn't have been more wrong.

    Mom stopped shaking. No sound came out, so she wasn't sobbing. Then, her head rose ever so slightly. Her eyes were swimming with tears, but she seemed to be smiling through them. “It's...it's okay. I-I just overreacted, I guess...”

    She thought that she was overreacting? What did that make me?

    I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I veered a different direction. “Uh…I have a question.

    Mom looked up at me with red eyes. “Hmm?”

    “Well...” I hesitated, not sure if it was worth it. But she had my attention, and I had the courage, so why not. “Why did you move to Anaroin in the first place? Why didn't you stay on the mainland, North America?”

    Mom looked at me, completely confused.

    “You lived there, right? Isn’t it better there?”

    This was the question I've been wondering for the past 13 years. All my life, I've heard that the mainland, North America, is a thriving community...well, thriving is an over exaggeration. So is community. North America was in a crisis - the details are a bit fuzzy. At this moment, they’re repairing what they’ve destroyed. But this island, Anaroin, has something that North America desperately needs. Slaves.

    The winged people that had inhabited this island previously are being sent to North America, probably at this minute. Only the rich people have slaves in North America. The general public doesn’t know anything about the slaves. Not yet, anyway. But in Anaroin, everyone has at least one slave.

    Eti's parents are here because her father is the CEO of the Slave Shipping Industry, SSI for short. My mom doesn't work there. Instead, she's a seamstress - part of the very few that know how to use a sewing machine. But why would a seamstress move to Anaroin? There are plenty of seamstress-like jobs in North America, probably with bigger salaries.

     Mom sniffled as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Oh…it was so long ago and I-I don’t remember anymore…”

    My mind went on full alert. As far as I knew, mom never lied. But what she had just said sounded…false. Sure, mom had a bad memory, (thanks for giving that to me, mom) but you can't forget something so important, like moving to an island. And the way she said it – her eyes avoiding mine, her voice too steady; I had plenty of experience with lying.

    Oh well. I wasn't expecting a straight answer anyway.

    Squeak

    “Ah!” I jumped, whirling around, thinking it was an intruder. (They aren't uncommon.) No, it was only Malaika, who was moving a chair with her silent feet.

    Malaika's gaze was focused on the mess on the wall. It had worsened with time – turning from yellow to an attractive shade of puke brown.

    Whoops.

    Malaika's gaze turned to me, her purple eyes staring deep into my soul.

    I turned my back to her, hoping to hide my embarrassment. I felt like a two year old that threw tantrums all the time, except I hadn’t known the definition of guilt back them.

    The silence was crashing into my ears. Wordlessly, I walked away from the scene, feeling ashamed at myself. Because of mom.

    And also because of Malaika.