Mama had a whole pamphlet of printed notes and books about braille.
Who even knew she had them all this time, or more important, where the hell she got them? Or even most important, when she got them? They looked a bit old, or maybe it was just the dust? God – The number of secrets this woman kept from me.
Mama said braille was a smooth flow. But the more she kept on explaining, the bigger the amount of details kept getting. It was half past midnight already, and we were still trying to clear up Grade 1 braille. She suggested getting on Grade 2 was much more preferable since it was more – proficient? or whatsoever.
When the clock struck 1am, I suggested she should retreat and leave me to it. She declined, like I initially believed she would, saying she needed to get me to the bottom of it. And I smiled, liking the idea even though I knew she would wake up deflated.
"Do you remember what these two dots mean?"
I stared at a braille cell with the first two dots that sat next to each other marked in blue. A one four cell.
"Yeah." I nodded.
"It's a –"
"C, right?" I glanced at her for confirmation.
Mama smiled. "Of course."
"And the next one?"
"Um –" I scrunched my face, trying to remember but failing. Mama flipped a page of her braille book and let me have a sneak peek. "Oh, it's an L."
I sure needed to memorize this shit.
"Excellent." She grinned. "Remember, the more you practice, the better you're going to get. And like everything else, it takes time. Mind you, this isn't a language. It's just a code in which many languages may be written and read, okay?"
"Okay. But I'm dying to feel my hands on that paper and try to read by myself," I admitted. "Or even go out and read public braille signs or something."
"I know, right? But you have to cram all these symbols before we get deeper into the reading part. Plus, remember to use light finger touch and zero pressure when you're at it. It's also a sign of a good braille reader."
Mama pulled out a set of files with braille on them.
"Want me to read you something for a bit?" She glanced at me.
"Of course," I agreed on impulse. "I'd love that."
She gave me a small smile before closing her eyes and feeling the top sheet with her hands.
I watched as she circled her palms around its surface before settling her fingers expertly over it.
"My name is Helene. And I am two things," she read slowly. "A scientist, and a mother. Though I'm not sure which one should come first and which one second. But at heart, I'm just a lover of science."
Mama looked less intimidating with her eyes closed. And as I leaned over my hand with my elbow rested on the wooden surface of the kitchen table, I traced the resemblance between our faces for the first time. For a minute, I wondered if Phoebe thought of me whenever she looked at her nanny.
"A man, who is now my husband, once told me that if you want to pursue something successfully, then jump in with both feet." She continued to read. "And maybe he was right. And maybe that's why I failed at my career. Because I jumped in with one foot. I threw that piece of my heart that was passionate about science at it and gave the rest to my daughter because I loved her. I loved her more than science. More than my passion. More than my husband and my comrades.
And I guess my daughter was the reason I fell out of love from everything else. Because now, as I write this, I know she's the only reason behind my decisions. The reason I'm brailling this down instead of writing it with pen and paper like a normal person.
Because I believe my daughter is a normal person too. And despite her impairment, which bad luck caused, she has the right to read. I believe this accident meant to happen for a reason, because I can't always be here to protect her from harm. And with such a kind of man for a father, I'd let him use her as a specimen rather than a weapon for his deranged experiments."
Mama stopped and opened her eyes. A weighty silence fell between us.
I noticed she had finished the page. The piece's emotive strength was overwhelming enough to make me feel like I had invaded someone's emotional sanctity, given how intimately personal it felt. It sounded like something written for a special someone to read.
For somebody's daughter.
"It's a diary entry," Mama clarified before I could question. "Written by Helene."
I adjusted my posture, tilted my head, and contemplated on eschewing the obvious next question.
"Mama . . . " I took a breath. "Who is Helene?"
The shift in her facial expression nearly made me retract my words. But she replied before I did.
"My teacher." She wore a distant smile, as if replaying a faraway memory in her head. "She taught me braille."
This was the first time I had ever heard my mother mention a teacher. Or even anyone in her life that she was acquainted with at all.
"She . . . She was the loveliest person I ever met." Mama swallowed hard. "She was the greatest woman alive. Kind, caring, listening, and very willing to share her knowledge."
I gave her a little smile, urging her on.
"She was sort of like the closest friend I had," she kept on. "Even though she never liked to call anyone her 'friend'. She always said having friends could ruin her life and, most especially, her career. So she used to call me her favorite 'comrade' instead."
My heart halted. Not for the contentment I felt because my mother was finally giving me something, but because this whole time . . . she described this woman in past tense. The sadness of it was eating me up alive.
Past. Gone. Dead?
I restrained the plethora of questions in my mind, afraid of being too intrusive and spoiling the moment. What she decided to give me was better than enough already. I figured it could be very hard for her to open up like this. Some wounds just never healed properly, and I didn't want to poke at them.
"She was the one who introduced me to Joseph." Mama added in a murmur.
Joseph.
Joseph Msafiri?
It had been years since I heard her say that familiar name. The name that belonged to no one but my father.
As much as I yearned to know about this Helene and especially Joseph, I knew I had to end it there. My mom was obviously on the edge of tears and I didn't want to be the reason she had to relive whatever happened and make her cry. Not today.
I figured the topic was in form of bread crumbs, slowly trailing us to the edge of a cliff. So, to save both of us from terror, I turned us back to the notes.
"Were you going to teach me how to use a brailler too?"
Mama finally acknowledged the presence of the dusty machine, remembering that she had brought it with her. I wondered if she got it from Helene too.
"Yes, do you want me to?"
"I'm literally at your mercy for this," I tried to chuckle to light things up. "And possibly teach me everything else you know about braille, please?"
"Of course." She gave a nod. "These notes . . . I think they might be very useful to you. You can have them."
The notes could be more than useful. Especially Helene's braille diary entries.
"Thanks, Mama." I put my hand over hers, making sure she understood how much this meant to me.
She sighed, patting my hand back before backing hers away.
"Now, back to our lesson," she chuckled, turning our focus to the papers.
"Okay okay."
"It's getting late, by the way. Mind if we wind up here for today?"
I knew it was a lie. She was simply looking for a way out. A way to pretend that nothing ever happened. That she didn't just confide in me and shared a piece of herself that she had never thought of sharing before. Maybe she was right. She should go rest. This was all too much for her already.
"Of course." I nodded promptly. I didn't want to tire her. She needed energy to work tomorrow. "We should."
"Before I go, is there any important word that you wanna know in braille?"
"Um –" I realized I had been waiting for this particular moment during the entire session. "Of course, yeah. But it's more like a whole sentence."
"Tell me. Let me braille it down for you before we head to bed." She smiled, and it hurt because I was sure she wouldn't be smiling anymore once I voiced out my next words.
"Yes." I moved nervously in my chair. "I . . . I wanna know how to write 'I love you Phoebe' in braille."