Salma's Epiphany

1/How Can I Be Happy?

...so sorry for your loss.

...Salma, where's liya? you promised.

...you guys should leave her alone

...but she can't promise and fail

...maybe her father's death is taking a toll on her

...can you guys just focus on what the girl is saying

...yh. just myob

I looked at the tons of comments flooding in by the second. Gosh, these people could talk for Africa! Furtively, I bit my lip, not knowing what to say next to the hungry audience. I had promised them a conference with Aaliyah to occur today, but she went MIA and now, all I can do is read comments and look dumb in front of thousands of viewers. 

"Umm... everyone, I'm so sorry for not being able to bring on Aaliyah. She's having some... umm... technical difficulties, but maybe some other time." I said, freezing in front of the screen with only my lips moving. 

...mmm

...everything is technical difficulties

...so, Aaliyah just disappeared into thin air??

...tell us the truth Salma

...you guys, at least she showed up to give you content. can you just shut up?

...who is this one? massa, fiokor!!

"Thank you for watching Episode 85 of Politics With Salma, I hope you enjoyed today's show. Goodbye."

...worst episode ever

...mtcheww. can't believe I wasted my data for this

...so she was just wasting our time

I turned off my camera, signed out of the live stream and ended it. Sighing, I slammed my laptop shut and got out of my swivel chair. This was indeed the worst episode ever. Since  I started this show, I've never had this many viewers, but it's sad to say they are not helping in the matter. 

Standing on my feet, I slid my feet into a pair of chalewate, moving towards the China Door when my eyes landed on a portrait hanging just above my door. There in his glory was Dad. The best man I could ever wish for. With his charming smile with a tiny gap in his upper teeth, his greyish-blackish curly hair, and his perfectly shaped bushy eyebrows. 

"Oh Dad," I whispered, twisting the knob of my door, stepping out of my room. I descended the stairs leading to the kitchen. Mom was already in the hall quietly by herself. I didn't know what she was doing, or why she was so solemn on a Friday night. Usually, she would be in her room, watching old seasons of Friends, or just listening to some old Kojo Antwi music. 

A sigh escaped her lips and it piqued my interest. What was she doing? I moved silently towards her, trying not to startle her. She was probably lost in her thoughts. I stopped a few inches away from the red velvet sofas in the living room, hovering over her. So that's why she was quiet.

In her hands was a little picture of Dad and her. That was on their honeymoon in Morocco. They were in front of a restaurant, smiling widely with love evident in their eyes. She leaned her head against Dad's chest while he held onto her with his arms. That picture was her favourite and the pride of their bedroom and the living room. I'm sure she was still using it as her Display Picture on WhatsApp for God knows when!

"Oh Amir," she whispered, just like I did in my bedroom. Tears welled up in my eyes, stinging it. I brushed them with the back of my palm, trying to not cause a scene. "If only you were here."