My heart skipped a beat and in that moment I somehow forgot to breath. . .
We had all been eating in silence. All seven of us. Kwesi's food covered in a corner, on a side stool. He hadn't returned home yet. He probably was drinking out with his fellow low lives, drowning in alcohol. My skin crawled at the mere thought of it.
"Ama get me some salt from the kitchen, will you?" Ma beckoned at my younger sister, Ama.
The 14 years old was hesitant, concerned that the others would still be eating while she was gone. She grumbled blatantly.
"Didn't you hear me?" Ma yelled angrily. My heart skipped a beat and in that moment I somehow forgot to breath.
Ama sprang up her feet in fright, her eyes dilated as she vanished out the door.
It was really unlike Ma to yell or even raise her voice. Everything felt so wrong. I could feel the pain in her eyes, the anguish and so many regrets.
I left my gaze on her as she shifted awkwardly in her seat most likely regretting her outburst.
She was obviously frustrated. She looked drained… and even more so, helpless.
But weren't we all?
Remarrying Kwesi after the death of Pa was supposed to have made life a tad bit easier for us all. That was what they said!
The horrible feeling of betrayal crept up on me, countless memories flashing through my mind. The hope I had felt! All the promises they never kept! I bit on my lower lip trying to calm the rising anger that was threatening to tear my whole body apart.
Little wonder I had severe trust issues.
But then again, an unemployed widow with six children didn’t really have many options at her disposal and it should be no surprise that she had taken the very wrong one.
The last 3 years had been nothing but a blatant torture, way too disheartening a story to tell. It had been hell on Earth to say the least.
I stared at her with earnest intent as though wanting to see through her soul.
Ma had a red head scarf wrapped around herself. How I managed to miss this detail the whole time baffled me. She only wore those to the market. Why was she wearing one now and at this hour…?
“Oh.”, I heaved a sigh, returning my gaze to my meal.
Another black eye.
Was that really her best attempt at hiding it? I thought, getting mildly upset.
From the kids or from me? I rolled my eyes. Laughable I must admit.
A thin silk scarf wrapped around her head was supposed to stop me from noticing? I felt offended all over again.
But maybe her intent was to avoid the unnecessary explanations. Perhaps she was just tired of the way too frequent blames she put on the wardrobe hanger or the bed frame or the ‘I mistook a step and tripped over’ narrative.
The glaring raw truth made my stomach knot and the food in my mouth became tasteless. I bit harder on my lips. I hated how my anger always turned into tears.
A shrill scream from the kitchen area snapped me out of my thoughts and got everyone on their feet as we rushed out to see what had happened.
It was Ama. Fidgeting in one corner, the container of salt rolling to and fro, it's content spewed all over the floor.
"You’ve over stepped this time!" A masculine voice roared from the other end of the huge kitchen, a loud crash followed. It was dark and difficult to tell what was going on as the dim rays of passage bulb did little or nothing to illuminate the huge kitchen. The sound of fist against flesh sent a chill down my spine.
Another crash.
"Kwam! Get me the lamp!" Ma shrieked in panic. We were all panicked.
"Youu... I..diioot..." Came a slur. That was Kwesi's voice. He was drunk. He was definitely drunk.
As the lamp finally lighted the area. I sighted Kwesi was on the floor, a figure on of top him, slamming his fist severally while cursing. Plates and utensils all over the place, pieces of broken ceramics and glass scattered on the floor. Ma rushed to the scene pulling at the shirt of the stranger from, begging.
“Stop it! Get off him! Please stop it!"
I remained transfixed at the entrance, Ama ran up to where I stood. Lightly bleeding from her nose. Hugging me from behind, she cried into my filthy dress.
The stranger finally let go after a series of hard punches, he was breathing heavily. He turned around, his tall and muscular body, intimidating, compared to Ma's frail little figure.
After moments of tensioned silence with only whimpers comimg from Kwesi who still laid on the concrete floor, Ma slowly raised the lamp up the face of the stranger, her hands shaking visibly. Ama's grip on me tightened and I swallowed hard.
There it was. The face of the mysterious stranger.
Kojo. It was brother Kojo. The new neighbor who barely spoke to anyone.
I heaved a sigh of relief, my muscles unconsciously relaxing, the weight on my head evaporating.
As I pulled Ama into a hug, making a failed attempt at comforting, Ma slapped him hard across the face. Her hands still shaking. Her scarf was almost falling off her shoulders revealing long ugly scars at the back of her neck. My mouth dropped in shock and disbelief but Kojo's eyes dilated as though he had seen a ghost. I didn't want to imagine what Ma's face looked like.
"Get out." She ordered.
