This story is about a girl. Who needs to be free!!!
She believes in Magic and Love! She's an artist, sensitive and different.
But she is not supported by one person.
A person she has to see every week.
As you can see, this is a problem she has to f...
Sorry I haven't written in forever. I was just a little... lazy. Maybe... So now I'm going to tell you some bad news. I know I never write with good news, but I need to let it out. And if writing it in separate pieces of paper is the way... then ..yay! :)
Today is Saturday. A beautiful fall day, with red, orange, and all sorts of leaves. Simon and I played in the cold autumn breeze with friends. After they left, we decided to leave too, so we walked back home. My dad wanted to stop at the basketball court, so we started walking towards it. I looked out at it, and I saw colors on the fence. Etched in a beautiful design, in my mind, I read what the colors said and smiled.
Simon pointed at the fence, "What does that say?"
"Black Lives Matter," I say, smiling.
"Oh, my God," My dad scoffs. "And in rainbow colors," he states, rolling his eyes.
Stupid Dad, I think.
~~~~~~~
Playing Basketball was fun. Right now, I watched Simon and dad shooting at the net.
It was darker than it was before, and colder, so I wanted to go. I looked at the pitch black sky and then back at the two boys.
"Can we go now?" I say after a while.
"Yes, but after everyone shoots once," My dad states.
My father goes first, he missed the first try. He dribbles the ball and shoots again but only hits the backboard. Once again he shoots but misses.
He then gives up and passes the ball to Simon. Simon playfully dribbles, acting all goofy as he changes his body position while dribbling the ball in his hand.
He looks adorable in his hat and blue jacket. His hat cups his face perfectly, showing his cubby checks and his shining eyes.
"Watch this," he laughs as he shoots, the ball barely reaches the net. He tries again and it then slides in perfectly. The ball bounces down to the floor toward Daddy.
"My turn," I say. My dad passes it to me, but Simon blocks it. The ball dribbles lower, making it harder to reach but I get it anyway and bounce it harder to make the ball go up and down at a normal height. I try to do this but Simon again blocks the ball and it rolls all the way to the fence. "Hey," I say ferrying my eyebrows. I push him lightly in frustration and walk toward the ball.
I hear my dad say something and laughs and so does Simon. I squat down, grabbing the ball and walk back towards them. I turn around to see my dad's arms around Simon's neck. They look like they're just playing around but I begin to grow worried. Looking at Simon, he looks like he's crying as he's squished against dad's armpit. I walk closer.
"It looks like he's crying," I say. My dad takes him out of his embrace and I look at Simon. His face is red and he has tears dripping down his face. "Are you okay?" I say wanting to hug him. He tries to answer but my dad butts in.
"Seriously? What's wrong with you, man?!"
I look at my dad in suprise.
"What's wrong?!?" Anger in his voice as he asks, clearly not caring if he's okay or not.
"My...My,"
"What?!"
"My... the back of my...jaw,"
"Oh my God! Be a man! Let's go." he grabs the ball out of my hand and walks out of the court, flinging his body in anger as he walks away.
Simon and I walk behind him. I want to hug him and ask if he is okay. But I know I can't, my dad keeps looking back towards us. I know what he's thinking. 'I didn't do anything, I'm not the bad guy!' But if he were a good father, he would have said 'sorry,' and then it would be done.
As we walk behind him, I try to act normal and happy. If we were with mamma, we would look like a happy family, because we are. I smile, thinking about her, but then I begin to grow sad.
As my dad walks ahead of us, I watch the busy street beside us, the cars rolling by making enough sound for me to ask Simon if he's okay. Simon and I exchange looks. I rub his back gently and he moves closer to me. He whispers in my ear.
"I'm not a man." Wait, what? I wonder, Did I hear him right?
"What?" I whisper.
My dad whips around toward us.
"Mina, he's fine." the streets are empty, as he speaks, What how?! It was so noisy earlier? I wonder. "He's not hurt." You don't know that! I want to yell.
I stay silent and stare into his vicious blue eyes. Seconds go by as we stare into each other's eyes, as if a battle going on.
I wish I could yell at him and tell him how childish he's acting and then afterwards I could run away. Simon and I, just run into the now empty streets and be gone for good.
Of course I just stay silent, having this silent urge disappear as my dad talks again.
"Walk in front of me," he demands. My eyebrows arched.
"What, why?" I ask.
"Do it," he demands again. You know what, whatever, I think as I walk in front of him. If he wants to separate Simon and me, he's in for a treat.
As I walk, I invent a song in my mind, and whisper bits of it, anger fueling inside me as I walk quickly ahead of them.
"🎶 What an asshole, bitch, a fucking moron...What an asshole bitch, fucking moran...Moran bitch, fucking Asshole. If someone got hurt, you say 'sorry'. You don't just yell at them. What a moran you are. I feel sorry. But who cares, you're a moran.🎶" I smile to myself as I sing this fast song and look at the moon. The moon shining in the black sky, showers peace within It's going to be okay. I think to myself as the moon gives me reassurance.
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At home now, I sit in my room writing, writing the story of life. 'Sorry I haven't written in forever, I was just a little...'
Simon is in the living room and so is my dad. After a while, I hear my dad say something.
"I didn't mean to hurt you." I stop writing and listen. "You acted as if I hurt you so bad, that's what babies do. That's how babies cry."
"Oh. My.God!" I whisper-yell, hoping they can hear me from my room.
Silence continues and I lean in to somehow help me hear the conversation.
"That's what babies do," he says after a long pause. I hear a whisper.
"Don't say 'sorry'," I say to myself, "You didn't do anything, Simon." I try to send some sort of message, with my mind, to my brother so that he doesn't apologize.
"What are you sorry for?" I hear my dad say.
I sigh.
A long pause.
"I'm sorry, I can't talk to you right now... Go...Go to your room," My dad says, harshly.
Simon enters our room.
"Close the door," I tell him. Simon closes the door and sits next to me.
"Don't apologize, you didn't do anything. He did, he should be the one saying sorry," I tell Simon, hugging him.
