Page 123 of Someone Like Me
A high-pitched snarl leaves my throat, and Gemini pops his head up at the sound, looking around the apartment for invaders or wild animals.
“Sorry, Gem,” I croak, deleting the text. “Definitely too early for that.”
I debate not reading the messages from Mom, but I decide that no matter what, I need to meditate for a little while, so I might as well get all of the potential stressors out of the way and then give myself time to clear my head.
Mom: Your father and I didn’t mean to upset you last night. We just want you to know you have options. Maybe the two of us could talk today. What about lunch?
Mom: Are you awake?
The first message is time stamped at seven a.m. on the dot. The second from five minutes ago. I’ll bet it was the buzz on my phone that woke me. I close my eyes and breathe in and out slowly three times.
It does me no good. The tension. The disappointment. The pain from last night are all still right there. Taking up space in my emotional body. I throw the covers aside and climb out to Drew’s bed.
Drew’s absence, I admit to myself, is another thing that’s gnawing at me. Why didn’t he wake me before he left?
I shoot him a text.
Me: Hey, did you leave already?
He might still be in Mrs. Vivian’s house, but I’m not about to go down there and check. I put down my phone and make up the bed. I head to the bathroom, wash my face, and brush my teeth, trying to stay as present as possible.
The morning routine is enough to cleanse some of my tension, so I decide to try to sit in meditation. I put off getting dressed, knowing that my pjs are more conducive to a lotus pose than my jeans, and I crawl back onto Drew’s futon to settle in. I silence my phone in case Mom decides to text a third time or, worse, call me.
I close my eyes, breathe, and let my body sink into stillness.
I follow my breath, the only sound in the room besides Gem’s almost imperceptible snoring, and try to simply be.
But thoughts from last night just won’t let me. And I relive the worst of them.
As though the dinner was scripted, my parents waited to address their “concerns” until after we’d ordered, chatting instead — Mom mostly — of life in Abuja and the aardvark that had decimated her flower beds in just one night.
But as soon as the vegetable pakoras arrived, their conversation became tactical.
Mom with her“We’re here because we care. You’ve got us worried these days…”
And Dad’s almost jokey delivery, smiling wide as he listed my crimes,“You’ve got to admit, E, you haven’t got the best track record when it comes to decisions with consequences… You quit school almost overnight. Not a word to any of us… And what about the time you found Gemini? Spotted him at the pet adoption outside Petco, when you were what? Supposed to be getting coffee for your boss? And when they wouldn’t let you keep him in the office that afternoon, you quit. Remember that? Don’t get me wrong, honey. We all love the little guy, but who do you think paid to get him de-wormed and vaccinated? And now this shady character you’re seeing? My goodness, Evangeline…”
My stomach burns right below my xiphoid process. Just like it did last night when I had to listen and defend, try to make them see that none of those decisions, quick though they were and life-changing as they might have been, were wrong for me.
Least of all Drew.
But it was like trying to start a campfire with wet matches. A lot of effort and mess and falling darkness. No warmth in sight.
And they couldn’t understand why I was so offended when they tried to bribe me to leave.
Mom:“Why can’t you see this as an opportunity? You’re young. You’re free. No school schedule holding you down. No real responsibilities…”As if my job means nothing. As if I can just walk away from Gemini.
Dad:“Take six months. You know what I’d give for six months just to travel and see the world? This guy just got out of prison, E. Pri-son. Let him get his life together. If he’s still on the straight and narrow when you get back, what have you lost? If he’s not, you’ve dodged a bullet, honey.”
And that was when I asked for the check. My dad practically fell over himself in his attempt to grab the thing from the server, but I took the little plastic-covered book, stuffed a twenty and a five in, handed it back to the guy, and left, angrier than I’d ever been in my life.
And, yes, I was angry on Drew’s behalf.Straight and narrow.My God. The man lives with his grandmother. He pickles her okra. He tends her garden. He takes care of her when she’s sick.
He grieves his brother and wears his guilt like a stone around his neck.
And still he has room in his heart to love me.
I breathe in and out. I didn’t stick around to say those things to my parents. Perhaps I should have. Maybe I’d feel better now.
