I played Temple Run on my iPhone while waiting for the plantains on the couch. Grandma Chioma called my name before I could complete another level. I smelled the sweet olive oil when I stepped into the kitchen. An orange ceiling light shone on the brown plantains frying in the pan; the oil sizzled around them.
I approached the island table and sat beside Mia on the black bar stools. Mia munched hers on her plate. Grandma Chioma turned to see me without speaking and handed me my plate. I got up to look over the pot filled with boiling red stew. As I grabbed the big silver spoon, I scooped up some to pour all over the plantains.
"After you girls finish eating, meet me in the living room," Grandma Chioma announced.
"Okay," I said, taking a bite from my sweet crispy plantain.
After Mia and I finished our food, we found Grandma Chioma glued to the Bible. Once she stopped reading, she called our names and ordered us to sit on the couch beside her. With Grandma Chioma in the middle, Mia and I took sides of sitting closer to her. She held our hands together when she looked at us.
"I am proud of your mother, but do not let the tabloids dictate your lives. Ignore those fools because God knows and sees everything!" Grandma Chioma said, reminding us.
"It's too late for that," I told her. "Some paparazzi dude spotted us coming out of the hospital."
"Wait, what!?" Grandma Chioma exclaimed, letting us go.
"Look, we got out of there the second that guy took pictures."
She closes her eyes and tightens her fist. Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought of paparazzi. When she opened her eyes, Grandma Chioma sighed. She turned to look me in the eye after she calmed herself down.
"This is what we have to put up with after your mother," she finally said. "I know we will get through this because God has this handled, for He is my witness."
A God who witnessed nights of me waking up in sweat, my knees aching in prayer, my cry for help, and my stupidity for thinking such things. And I won't deny that.
"You girls better be ready for church tomorrow," Grandma Chioma informed. "Because we need God's Word to cleanse our minds. We need His Holy Angels to protect us from this evil world!"
I opened my mouth to say something, but Grandma Chioma got up from the couch before I could disagree. Knowing her, she won't handle my response. Then again, I don't care anyway since I want to be honest.
"No," I told her.
Grandma Chioma turned with her eyebrow raised. "Excuse me?"
"I'm tired of waking up early, listening to sermons, and the Pastor screaming, 'Holy ghost, fire!' many times," I explained, numbering my fingers. "That's my answer, okay?"
Grandma Chioma scoffs at my answer when she places her hands on her hips. She taps her foot on the floor, thinking of what to say. Instead, Grandma Chioma raises her hand in my face in her response.
"Sasha, do you hear yourself? No, no. Do you hear yourself?" she emphasized, making her words clear. Grandma Chioma lowered her hand to glare at me. "All those reasons you spewed out of your mouth is your laziness. The church is for you, and God is for you!"
I shook my head and put my hands up, not giving in to her reasons. Throughout our little argument, I forgot Mia stood there, looking at us wide-eyed. Grandma Chioma ordered her to go upstairs, and Mia listened without a fuss.
"I'm not having this right now," I said, walking past her.
"No, you get right back here!" Grandma Chioma stomped her foot, demanding my attention. "We are having this conversation!"
I groaned as my fists tightened. My eyebrows furrowed, glaring at Grandma Chioma.
"You don't want to go to college. Now, you don't want to go to church? Sasha, explain this change of behavior!" she demanded from me.
"I've changed. That's your answer."
"In a bad way," Grandma Chioma remarked, snapping at me. "I want you in church so you don't conform to this world. To stand out and be a child of God!"
"Grandma, let's not go deep into this. The answer is simple. I don't want to go to church," I told her. "I'm sorry that you are offended-"
"You've offended me and God," Grandma Chioma said, cutting me off. "Don't you want to soak in His presence and enjoy a community of your fellow Nigerians?"
I facepalmed when she asked those questions.
"Huh, Sasha?" Grandma Chioma pressed on. "Your father is the only white man in that church!"
"So? Let's not bring Dad into this because I know you're trying to say that 'church is for everyone,' but just for this once, I don't want to go tomorrow."
I hoped she would give in and listen. However, I should remind myself to who I'm talking to.
"Fine, go ahead and stray from God. Since you don't want to go to church, you will spend your time reading the story of Job and memorize ten verses from that book!" Grandma Chioma demanded.
"Are you kidding me?" I snapped at her. "Fine. Whatever. I'll do it."
I stormed out of the living room before Grandma Chioma said anything. As I walked upstairs, I stepped into the bathroom to brush my teeth and went straight to my room. I didn't bother checking up on Dad or Mia. I just wanted alone time.
Opening my diary was the first thing I did when I sat on my task chair.
AUGUST 16TH, 2011
TIME: 8 PM
"DEAR DIARY, will she ever listen? Not in a million years. But just for this once, I wished she would. I hoped, begged, and prayed on my knees, waiting for signs from God. I know I'm stupid for thinking God would, but something's not adding up. Whenever I sat in the pews, the Pastor would shake and chant God's name from his mouth. It's like he's seeing visions or something. Everybody else starts to close their eyes and raise their hands to be in the presence of God. If my little sister can get visions from God, what the heck am I doing wrong? What lesson is God trying to teach me? Oh yeah, nothing. I am just ranting at this point. I'm starting to think about going to college only to avoid Grandma. The moment she complains is when I've had enough. It doesn't help that she's here all day, every day. Ever since the accident, Grandma never returned to Nigeria.
So far as my Grandma goes, she acts like Mom's dead. I mean, she isn't wrong for feeling that way. Two years without Mom feels like I'm mourning her. Most days, it feels like we're grieving her death and that a part of us is missing. I understand Grandma wants me to go to college and live a "normal" life. But what I consider "normal" is being at peace at home doing whatever, playing dolls with Mia, and gaming. I deal with Pablo's shit and come home with a cheeseburger, steak, and those delicious cheese fries. That's why I haven't quit my job. I got comfortable, so I don't feel like quitting yet. What else am I going to do from there? I'm not sure. So, I am good with enjoying life outside the spotlight and eating good Texas Roadhouse food."
I placed my pen down and buried my face in my arms. A knock came on the door, but I ignored it. When Dad called my name, I told him I wanted to be alone. I didn't want him to bother me. Dad understood and didn't make a fuss. I heard his footsteps echo after he walked away from my room.
_
"Sasha!" Grandma Chioma shouted from the top of her lungs. She banged on the door twice to snap me out of my slumber. I stared at the ceiling fan, listening to her shouting my name. I pulled my pillow behind my head and pressed it on my face. Grandma Chioma reminds me again–remember those ten verses.
"Okay, I get it already!" I cried out.
I marched to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Once I got out, I wrapped a towel around my hair and covered myself in a robe. I walked out of the bathroom to change in my room.
I opened my closet door, examining the green hanged clothes. Some were blues and other colors but mostly overflowed with green shirts and jackets. I stroked my chin, thinking of what to wear. As I picked the style of my choice, I changed to my today's outfit.
I bend down to touch my tippy toes. The crack in my spine releases an audible pop as the tension in my back uncoils. I slowly got back up to stretch. My body felt more at ease as I rotated my shoulders. I looked at myself in the mirror, gazing at my plain white shirt and blue jeans. The sun's light left its ray on the mirror glass from the window.
"Sasha," Dad called. I turned to him, standing in my doorway wearing his black suit and tie.
"Why do you keep going to that church?" I asked, yawning.
As Dad glances at me, he sighs. He leaned against the door, crossing his arms. "Because I miss your mother. And that your grandmother refuses to go to any church filled with people that...you know, look like me," he explained. "Besides, it's important that you and Mia don't forget that part of yourselves. I know I'm white but still, do you get what I'm saying?"
I nod to his response.
"I'm sorry your grandmother keeps shaming you for things–in the name of God. But Linda, remember this. We're only there to worship our Lord-"
"Okay, Dad. You don't have to remind me," I replied, cutting him off.
Despite my slight attitude, he kept his patience with locked eyes and a calm voice.
"Okay," he sighed, looking at me.
Before Dad stepped out, he took one step back into my room and turned to look at me. "Do not open the door for anyone. Except for Muriel since she is a friend. Other than that, call me if there is any issue."
"Dad, you don't have to worry about me. I will be fine," I said, approaching him to kiss his cheek.
As I watched Dad leave my room, he returned to my doorway. "Don't forget, work starts at eleven!"
"Yes," I nodded. "I won't forget."
"Hope so," he said, kissing my cheek.
After my family left, I stayed in the living room with Ritchie. He rested his stomach on the carpet while I read the Bible upside down on the couch. I blinked a few times to keep myself awake throughout the read. I closed my eyes for a minute, releasing the Bible out of my hands. When the book smacked the ground, Ritchie barked. My eyes popped from the noise he made. I positioned my body to lie on my shoulder after lying upside down.
As I sat up straight, the Bible remained closed. I sighed, facepalming at my laziness. I shouldn't act like a child, but that is what I get for "offending" Grandma Chioma. Reading Job is hard to understand because why would God let Satan, who is the enemy, work with Him to make poor man Job's life a living hell? No pun intended. Then again, this is the God who makes Grandma Chioma foam at the mouth.
I picked up the Bible off the floor and put it back on the library shelf. Ritchie wagged his tail when he eyed me. I grabbed a leash, purple gloves, and a plastic bag to take Ritchie outside. I put the plastic bag on my shoulder while pulling Ritchie's leash to stay still.
The sun gave a faint glow behind the clouds. I walked around the neighborhood with my ears plugged, listening to "TLC - Waterfalls." Ritchie sniffs on the sidewalk, and I stop to let him do his business on the grass. He sits on the ground with his tongue out. I tap my foot on the ground, bobbing my head to the music.
I couldn't control myself dancing to the music. My ears were blessed, hearing every word that spoke soul. I twirled around, swaying my hips back and forth. Ritchie alarms a bark, but I am too focused on every hit Left Eye rapped in my ears. Little did I know, I stepped on Ritchie's poop. I lowered my head to notice the brown smudge on one of my red sneakers. All I have to say is ewww!
"Ritchie!" I yelled.
I hopped on one shoe after cleaning up Ritchie's mess. I struggled to hold the plastic bag, shoe, and the leash. Let me not forget, hopping on one foot.
Finally, we reached my driveway. The first thing I do is hop toward the wheeled trash can to toss the plastic bag inside. Afterward, each hop I did left me panting. Ritchie walked up to my front porch while I hopped behind him. His tail brushes against my ankle once I rest my hand on the door. To catch my breath, I inhaled and exhaled. As soon as I touched the doorknob, my shoe fell from my hand. I groaned after it landed on the front steps. "You got to be fucking kidding me!" I whispered.
"Is everything okay over there?" shouted someone.
"Huh?" I turned to see a blonde dude standing on the sidewalk. He had his earphones in, which I wondered–why bother asking that question? Go about your day, man. Then he waits for my answer, so I guess I have to say something before he asks any more questions.
"I'm fine. Just pretend you heard nothing. Don't worry about me, neighbor."
My eyes left the stranger once I faced the door. Turning the knob, I let go of the leash, allowing Ritchie to enter first. I took one step into my house and left my other foot out. My hand reaches for my dirty shoe as I lower my back. I grabbed the shoelaces and stepped inside the foyer room.
I clap my hands to get Ritchie's attention. He races upstairs after ordering him to do so. Besides, I don't want Grandma Chioma to throw a fit from smelling his stinky butt.
After cleaning Ritchie in his bubble bath, he shook his body, and water got on me. I used the hairdryer to blow Ritchie's fur. After that, he embraces the towel wrapped around him. I kissed his head and rubbed it.
Ritchie steps out of the room and walks downstairs. I entered the living room, watching him get into his dog crate. Taking one look away from him, I grabbed the remote to turn on the TV.
I step into the kitchen to get dog treats from the pantry. Returning to the living room, I filled the silver bowl with Ritchie's food. Ritchie focused on the TV, then he barked. I ignored him since I did not care what was on there. He barked again, which prompted me to glance at the TV in response.
Two female back dancers sway their hips against a background of glowing multicolored lamps. In the shadows, a woman with honey-blonde hair emerged wearing a pink bra paired with silver metallic pants. She was front and center in the middle beside her girls, moving her arms like waves–ensuring the camera made her be seen.
"What a Beyoncé copycat," I said to Ritchie. Seriously, she is becoming one.
She sang some generic pop song, using her hands to show off her hourglass body: "I wanna let go tonight, I wanna get down tonight. Oh, I wanna have fun till my days are up!"
Her autotuned voice repeated after her. She hit that last note exceptionally well. The background changes into a dance club, where many people groove to the music, dancing the night away.
I rolled my eyes once male strippers appeared for the singer to dance with. A fog cast behind them made things a little more upbeat. The camera bounced up, matching the excitement of the music. Layla is putting her all into this.
Parts of the song ended abruptly. "Oh, finally!" I said, relieved. On a gossip network, a guy analyzed the music video by praising Layla. The scene switches to an interview where Layla discusses her upbringing as an artist. She spoke with much enthusiasm in her words.
Her eyes beamed as the interviewer continued asking her more questions she was eager to answer. Question after question, I am standing here bored out of my mind. I grabbed the remote, ready to switch the channel. But I proceeded not to. Instead, I focused on her.
"Being mixed has taught me a lot about myself. So I say, embrace the best of both worlds!" Layla proclaimed.
I turned the TV off once she said that. Ritchie munches on his food immediately after taking his eyes off Layla.
I patted Ritchie's head when watching him eat. As I turned around, I froze from hearing a distant hum. I followed the sound upstairs and found my iPhone on my bed.
Dad's name appeared on the gray screen. I answered the call, "Sweetie, how are you doing?" he asked, his calm voice soothing my ears.
"I am okay. How was church?"
"It was interesting," he responded. "We are coming home now. So, how are things holding up at work?"
Hmm, wait.
My eyes popped when I looked at the time: 11:00 AM.
"I'll talk to you later," I replied, hanging up before Dad could say anything.