There was nothing more discomforting than having to place bare feet on tiny grains of sand within the house. On impulse, I picked up the bundle of local broomsticks tied together and swept through the room as I walked.
Source
“Blackie, is that you?” A sweet voice cooed from an inner room. My face relaxed into a smile almost immediately. My mother's niece, Isabel, was fond of calling me ‘Blackie’ because I was the darkest child my parents gave birth to.
“Yes, it's me” I responded, dropping the broom as she stepped out of the bathroom, water dripping from her newly dyed hair. This time, she decided to make it a golden-brown color and it suited her yellow skin more than the deep purple I saw on her the last time.
“Welcome. How is school?” We were careful not to allow her hair to touch any part of my sky-blue t-shirt as we enveloped each other in an embrace.
“You know how school is, stressful as normal”
I was going to climb onto her big-sized orthopedic mattress which took up most of the space in the room but decided to rub my hands on it instead. There were tiny grains on it too like I suspected. I took a wrapper from a hanger nearby and dragged it across the bed to get rid of the sand.
I turned to catch Isabel staring at me, a small smile transfixed to her round face.
“I don't know how two people can behave so alike, but then, you are your mother's daughter. Aren't you?”
I raised my brows in inquiry as we sat on the bed.
“You know I grew up with your mother, she was the one who taught me how to clean and arrange, but no matter how much I cleaned, she did it better.”
I now knew where she was coming from.
“I think it's mainly because I don't appreciate sand,”
“As if” she mused aloud. “You're just like her, it's not just the sand you cannot tolerate, it's general uncleanliness. Your daughter is in for a lot.”
I lifted my shoulders and dropped them, “My children will definitely have to be like me when it comes to that, irrespective of gender.”
“I wish them good luck,” she said as we both laughed.
“I came to charge my devices o,” she nodded as I had told her that already before coming over, “There's been no light for some time at my house. Besides, how can I come to your house and there's no food? Are you not your own mother's daughter?” We exploded into another round of laughter as she rose to the kitchen. Her mother had been a well-known cook before she passed on when Isabel was a baby.
I rose to pick a magazine from her shelf and turned open its leaves, running my eyes through the creative articles' column. I heard Isabel walk out of the kitchen but didn't turn to look at her because I was immersed in one “Twice upon a time” story in the magazine.
“May you not read what will put you in trouble” she said, suddenly seizing the magazine from my hands. A paper dropped to the ground in the process, she threw the magazine away to pick up the paper hastily.
“What are you even hiding?” I asked craning my neck to get a peek at what was written in the paper. I was sure I saw the words, “my love”.
“It's none of your business. Your food is on the table.”
I went to pick up the magazine since she had voluntarily flung it aside, but she snatched it up again.
“Must you read? I was just saying you are more like your mother, but this particular one is your father's character, Reading up and down. Eat food and rest, you're in not school right now.”
I was quite taken aback to see how upset she was that I read the magazine, so I sat to eat in silence. When I turned to look at her, she was stuffing the magazine into one of her carry-ons.
“I'm sorry,” I told her when she returned to sit on the bed. She merely shrugged.
“Why do you still bother to read anyway? You know so much already.”
“There's no end to learning, Isabel. I know how much I don't know when I read. Plus, reading has helped my intellect so much. I use words without remembering how I got to know them sometimes. I think it's just super cool.”
There was a look of envy as her artificial lashes flickered up and down at me.
“Good for you then. Make sure you return it when you're done.” she threw the magazine at me, picking up some pieces of the fried plantain I had since stopped eating.