*AHLUME
Me: what is it? What's wrong with him?
Him: he was involved in an accident and its bad. We have to go
Me: I'll be down in a minute
The news hit me like an unexpected storm, shattering the fragile peace of my world. Despite the ever-present rift between my father and me, the mere mention of such distressing news about him sent a shockwave through my core. In that moment of urgency, familial bonds eclipsed our differences, and I found myself propelled into action.
With a turbulent mix of worry and panic, I rushed to my closet, hands fumbling to grab the nearest essentials. Briefs clutched in one hand, sweatpants in the other, and a t-shirt hastily pulled over my head, I hastily adorned myself with the armor of the familiar. The routine act of putting on my push-ins felt almost mechanical, a small yet necessary gesture in the face of impending uncertainty.
Bounding down the stairs, a whirlwind of emotions constricting my chest, I ensured the house was securely locked behind me. Each step echoed with the urgency of my thoughts, racing to find solace and answers in the presence of family. As I reached the bottom, the gravity of the situation unveiled itself – my mother, a stalwart figure, sat in front with my brother, both adorned with expressions etched in distress. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken fears, and the air crackled with an unsettling tension that demanded acknowledgment.
Me: He's going to be fine mom
She just nodded. I hate seeing my first lady like this. it breaks my heart. We got into the hospital and mom went to enquire about dad at the reception. She came to us and told us that he was in theatre and the doctor would inform us later.
Just then a woman walked in and seemed to be enquiring about our dad. She was skinny, brunette hair, long sexy legs, body hugging dress and just everything perfect. I looked at her from her shoes and then up. It's no doubt that she was a slay queen. I got up and walked up to her leaving my mom with my twin
Her: I need to know if he's ok?
Receptionist: ma'am I'm afraid we can't tell at this point. What relation do you have with the patient if I may ask?
Her: he's my boyfriend
I should have known! I tapped her shoulder and she turned to look at me, damn she was all kinds of beautiful
Me: hi
Her: Can I help you?
Me: you are Bandile's girlfriend?
In the tapestry of our family history, the hues blend in a harmonious dance, creating a narrative that defies the boundaries of conventional expectations. Yes, you might be wondering why, despite our shared black identity, we bear a surname that echoes with a distinctly different heritage. Allow me to untangle the threads of our lineage for you.
Our father, a man of colored descent, shares a complex ancestry. His roots trace back to a union between a white man and a striking black woman, a liaison marked by passion and defiance of societal norms. This clandestine affair bore fruit in the form of our father, a testament to the unforeseen connections that can arise amid the swirling currents of love and desire.
Our grandmother, a woman of captivating beauty, found herself entwined in a story that defied conventional expectations. Although she and our grandfather did not formalize their connection through marriage, she was resolute in ensuring that our father had a relationship with his paternal lineage. In a gesture that bridged the gaps between heritage and identity, she graciously allowed our father to bear his father's surname, a symbol of connection to a lineage that, while unconventional, was undeniably a part of his narrative.
Her: what's it to you?
Me: he's my father and that woman sitting over there is his wife. My mother
She looked at mom and then back at me
Her: is this some kind of sick joke?
Me: why would I joke with you? I don't even know you
Her: look little child. Stay away from me before I call security
Me: look my mother is already crushed as it is. Please leave before you make things worse
She chuckled in disbelief and turned to the receptionist
Her: Who is his doctor? I need to know how he's doing
Rec.: Ma'am please take a seat and the doctor will be with you right now
Me: Ma'am I would really suggest that you leave
Her: NO!
Me: fine.
I grabbed her elbow with her shouting for me to let her go and I just pulled her to the exit
Her: let go of me! you hurting me
Me: I asked you to leave nicely but you didn't listen so I'm making you leave.
I threw her and she stumbled on her heels. I don't know where the security around here was but I'm glad he or she wasn't around.
her: how dare you man handle me!
She said attempting to slap me but I held her wrist
Me: I wouldn't do that if I were you. Look Miss. I don't know you but I would really suggest that you leave and never come back here. My father is married and he will never leave our mother for any kind of pussy. Be smart and walk away before you catch any feelings
An indescribable rage welled up within me, an emotion so potent and overwhelming that I struggled to comprehend its origin. The accident that befell my father seemed to act as a catalyst, igniting a firestorm of anger deep within my being. It was as if the incident had unearthed a dormant fury, laying bare emotions that defied articulation.
I grappled with the turmoil churning inside, questioning the sudden surge of this intense and inexplicable rage. Every fiber of my being seemed to resonate with a seething discontent, and the world around me blurred in the haze of this newfound emotional tempest. The anger, like an untamed beast, roared within, leaving me bewildered and searching for answers to the chaotic storm that now raged within the confines of my soul.
Her: you hurting me. Let go of my wrist please
I didn't realise I was holding her wrist so tight until I let go of it and she had tears in her eyes and she seemed very much frightened by me.
Me: I am...
Her: get away from me. You're a monster!
She said moving back holding onto her wrist. I think I might have even broke it
Me: I'm sorry
She didn't pay no attention to me instead she walked away holding her wrist. What had just happened to me? it's like I blacked out and something in me took over making me a violent person.
.
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*MONALISA
The chair outside the principal's office felt more like a hot seat, my impatience growing as I awaited Click's arrival. I absentmindedly played with my hands, already anticipating his disapproval. When he finally appeared, his stern gaze pierced through me.
"Really, Lisa. First day of school, and already I'm receiving such calls?"
Me: If you hadn't brought me here, then maybe you wouldn't have had to drop everything to come attend this... whatever this is.
His disapproving look intensified, and he knocked on the principal's door. We were ushered in, and I slouched into the chair, feeling the weight of their collective gaze upon me.
Principal: Mr. Noland, I am sorry for having called you here, but we do not tolerate violence in this school. Your daughter beat up a boy in her class and broke his nose, and that is a serious offense.
Click looked at me sharply.
Me: In my defense, I didn't even punch him. His nose was weak.
Click: MONALISA!
I sunk back into the chair, silenced by his stern reprimand. The principal continued to detail the incident, emphasizing the severity of the situation.
Principal: Mr. Noland, your daughter banged his face onto the table.
Click: I'm sure he must have done something for her to react in such a manner.
Principal: I understand this is her first time being in school in a class with other students.
Click: Homeschooling has nothing to do with how she behaved. I am sure that it was self-defense. Lisa is not a violent person.
Principal: Mr. Noland, a student's nose is broken!
Me: Can I like say something here?
They both looked at me, and I seized the opportunity.
Me: Since none of you are even going to bother to hear what happened, can I get my detention slip or my suspension letter and then leave?
I walked out, feeling like I was on trial for no reason. Outside, an encounter with a mysterious cleaning lady left me bewildered and unnerved. Click found me, not in the best mood.
Click: What am I going to do with you?
Me: So?
Click: You got a week of detention. She wanted to suspend you, but I managed to convince her otherwise. Why would you break another kid's nose?
Me: He bumped me with his backpack and didn't apologize, so I defended myself.
Click: To bang him against a desk?
Me: Like I said, self-defense.
Still shaken, I made my way back to class. However, as I approached, I saw the mysterious woman by the wall of fame, shaking her head with an expression of fear. Instead of entering the class, I decided to confront her. I was not going to be terrified by some old woman!
.
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*ANELISA
I stood frozen, clutching the arm where the nun had held me. The pain lingered, searing through my skin like a burn. It felt like an eternity before I mustered the strength to resume my walk home. Each step was a struggle, my mind wrestling with the inexplicable agony that lingered in my arm. What was happening to me?
Upon arriving home, I greeted my grandmother, attempting to mask the pain beneath a facade of normality. As soon as I reached the solitude of my room, I shed my school uniform, revealing the perplexing aftermath of my encounter. In the mirror, a vivid pink handprint adorned my arm. Curiosity overcame me, and I tentatively reached out to touch it, only to recoil in sharp pain. Tears welled in my eyes.
This was beyond comprehension. A nun had left a painful mark on my skin. Questions swirled in my mind, and a disconcerting possibility crossed my thoughts. Was I demon-possessed? The only explanation I could fathom was from the movies—exorcisms and the expulsion of entities residing within. It seemed absurd, but what other explanation could there be for the bizarre pain etched on my arm?
Determined to explore this mysterious occurrence, I decided to consult my deeply religious grandmother. As bedtime approached, I planned to ask her for a prayer, a test of my theory. After all, if anyone could provide answers rooted in faith, it would be her.