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Continuation
Monday, May 13
🔷🔹Klaus' POV 🔹🔷
"Yuh a come downstairs with mi?" I ask laughing as I watch her face flush with embarrassment.
"Really Klaus" She retorts, rolling her eyes as she leans on the bedboard behind us.
"Yuh not even sure if a she" I smile
"Mi nah laugh cause it not even funny, to the way mi shame mi not even waah she si me back," she says covering her face with her hands her embarrassment evident.
"It nah go awkward if yuh nuh mek it Zam," I say and she shakes her head.
She places the pillow over her face and screams.
"A yuh ennuh, yuh nuh know time and place, and suh we goodly traumatize the poor woman," she says her voice muffled because of the pillow covering her face.
I laugh and she removes the pillow giving me a dirty eye.
"Me nuh know time and place, likkle girl?" I ask pointing to myself and she rolls her eyes.
"Just come cause right now mi a dead fi hungry and mi a smell the brown-stew from yah so," I say and roll myself out the room.
She groans again and slides herself off the bed unto the floor.
If a one thing me can count on is for Zambia to be extra.
I roll myself down the hall, stopping directly in-front of the elevator door.
I had one installed when I was told by doctors that there is a possibility that I may never walk again.
And I think that the idea of me never walking again hasn't settled with me or anyone around me.
Even though every day I am reminded when, I can't go to the bathroom by myself, roll out of the bed by myself or the fact that I have two caregivers living here with me.
Even with all these reminders my mind just refuses to accept that fact, and I try not to be too focused on it.
The ping from the elevator and the opening of the doors bring me back to reality.
Zambia goes to push me in and I shrug her off. She has been constantly doing this as if I am unable to do anything by myself.
And while I understand her doing, I just don't want her pity.
She sighs behind me annoyed and I roll myself in.
The doors close and we stand in silence and less than 30 seconds we are on the ground floor.
The whole house was rearranged and redesigned to be more wheelchair accessible, Zambia's words so everything isn't where it was a couple of months ago when I left.
The way your life can change in a matter of weeks, one day you're good and thriving the other day you're weak and fragile.
I roll my way out into the backyard where my mother has a feast laid out.
YOU ARE READING
DIFFERENT WORLDS
Random(Completed) Different Worlds tells the story of two young Jamaican adults who, although born on the same small tropical island in the Caribbean and in the same city, live two completely different lives and paths. For the 20-year-old woman Zambia Nel...
