The drawing sitting in front of me makes my head swell, especially when I look at the signature name below it "Hae-keem", my pen name. I am part of the artisan organization, "an artist by make" my dad would usually say. As I drop the pencil on the desk beside me, my smile becomes broader.
"At last I am done" I say
A quality present for my dad, I think to myself. Picking up the satchel beside me I begin to put painting materials in it, I am almost done with putting my materials in the chinaware I use in storing some of my paint brushes when it slips from my hand and shatters, making a very loud clattering sound. I look at the broken ware that lay in shambles on the floor beside me, in annoyance I breathe loudly, "Why bother" I say, recalling the same thing happening not too long ago I should just stick to plastic cups, or other containers used in holding pencils, pens, and brushes. In normal circumstances I would have been so angry, but right now the painting in front of me seems to be giving me more joy than I can contain, puffing out a breath of content I smile back at the painting. “My dad’s birthday present” I say, my dad's face sits on the once empty canvas, his eyes holding the most interesting of emotions. And this is my first time taking my signature out in the open, I usually hide behind the scenes, begging curators that I used to know help me publicize my work, and I have to say, not bragging though, that I have earned generous amount of fan base well using a different name of course, looking just below the drawing I see the heartfelt message I wrote in awkward calligraphy, I smile again, tears finding its way to my once clear eyes. My studio is quite small, just a small room in my house, and it is dark most of the time, having just a small bulb to brighten the room. Thanks to the help I got from my mom, I am now able to pack all my work in one of our empty rooms. After I quit admiring the now complete portrait, I decide it is time for me to take my leave.
On shutting the door to my cramped studio, my ears goes on alert as it picks up a high pitched wail from a corner of our home, “no, no, no” I keep muttering as I take fast steps towards the direction of the wail, the fast steps turn into running with all my might, I run down the stairs on getting to the part of the house the wail came from, I am in dread as I stop in front of my dad's room, the pace at which my heart beats increases, I did not want to think of anything before I access the situation, taking in multiple breaths, I come into the room only to be met with a gruesome scene, the scene before me looked unfathomable.
I watch in agony as my dad’s body lay lifeless on the floor beside a chair, tears begin rolling down my cheeks freely, placing both my hands on my mouth to stop myself from screaming I squat beside my housekeeper, miss Laurel. Currently in shock I ask no one in particular, "Was this supposed to be a suicide?" I ask this because there’s a rope hanging from the ceiling, my voice comes out shaky, ‘how can he be dead’, I think to myself, my feelings cannot be accessed right now, but one thing I can say is ‘surely I am not in the right state of my mind’ I get up slowly from my squatting position and take one step back, trying so hard to believe that I did not just see my dad’s lifeless body, I am feeling surprised, and I also feel sadness within me, I keep taking steps backward until I feel my back against the wall.
“What happened here?” I ask lightly , slowly I slide down so that my butt rests on the floor beside the wall, I look at my housekeeper when I begin to feel a pair of eyes on me only for me to come face to face with Our house keeper who is looking at me with confusion in her eyes, a lot of questions are in her eyes, and those questions look like they are directed towards me, I watch as her emotions changes from one of confusion to accusation, then to plain hostility and hatred, I am already accustomed to the accusatory stare, But this stare is by far the most senseless. Crawling towards the lifeless body I kneel beside my dad, expecting him to at least speak last words, my once shy tears become bold, as strange sounds begin coming out my lips. Why did it have to be on the eve of his birthday, my hands become hot as I cradle his heavy head in my hands, just as I am about to move my hands towards his small ears, I feel something wet and sticky, slowly bringing my hand close to my eyes so I can Identify what is on my hand, “I thought it was suicide?” I ask myself, “then why is there blood on my hands?” I look ahead thinking hard, wanting to solve a case my mind is clearly not ready for, I know it’s a gunshot, ‘a gun was shot to his head’ I look up above me just to be sure I did see a rope, it turns out there is actually a rope, whoever did this must have been so senseless, I think to myself as I feel the anger that I never felt before become enormous inside of me, why didn't I even hear the gunshot? It's supposed to ring out.
"what happened here is a wonder don't you think Katherine" my house keeper miss Laurel speaks up, her eyes somewhat quizzical as she stomps her fat foot, her face still red from tears, and just on her cheeks you could detect dried tears. I stare at her in bewilderment as I ask her the question that has been at the tip of my tongue, since I noticed her strange looks.
"Do you by any means think I shot my dad?" I ask with tears still in my eyes, and my whole mind focused on the death of my dad.
"I called the morgue after the police, they are on their way. Your mom too" she says, her hands in the pockets of her jeans.
"I just can't believe I chose to work with a family that has black in it" she says as she grudgingly walks away.
I don't care, I don't care what anyone thinks, I begin to laugh sadly when I recall how many times I have gotten more wicked comments. I look down at my dad's lifeless body again. My heart constricts in my chest as memories keep flying in my head.
"Why!" I scream. "Why did my dad…" I stop halfway as I see the bullet just a little bit close to his belt, and then an open window. My head begins to spin, questions popping up from every direction.
My conclusion becomes clearer by the minute, "Someone killed Him" a rookie I think, he was supposed to do a neat work, but by the look of things, he did expose himself. My mind stops in its track as an Idea came. "Or maybe not" I say out loud. After all there is a black in this house who can do well in taking the blame for anyone; I smile with tears running down my cheeks. Deciding that the thoughts I am having is trivial to the fact that “I just lost dad” I say out.
**
I sit on the couch with my mom, in tears again, my mom unlike me wasn't hysterical, she handled it quite well, and one thing I noticed though, as she cradled my dad's head with tears in her eyes, she sneakily pocketed something. And not long after she does this the cops comes in.
My mom's sob becomes louder when we see my dad being carried out on a stretcher, his lifeless body covered up, ‘his corpse’ God it’s painful to think my dad just passed, and not by a natural cause someone had murdered him, someone had murdered the most peaceful man I know, the only person I know I could trust asides my mom. My mom stands up, her both hands cover her lips as more strangled sobs is released, I quickly walk toward the door seeing the last of the cop department depart and shut it, well not before the last cop gives me a dirty stare.
I bring my mother back to the couch and continue from where I stopped in comforting her. "I can't believe your father is gone sweetie" she says looking at me. I nod frantically, making my curls bounce above my shoulders. I come closer and peck her, her eyes although still glossy with tears becomes determined as she says. "I'll protect you honey, they won't take you like they took him, even if it means me talking to the president" I didn't care what she meant by that but it did bounce in my brain as the words got registered. "Just what is she talking about? And who took dad" my brain asks. She pecks my forehead; drawing me close to her bosom I let my eyes close and I begin to feel fresh tears against my cheeks, just then a thought pops into my head ‘the painting’, Remembering the painting I excuse myself and walk back up the stairs then into my studio to stare at it one last time before putting it back into the special box I bought days ago ahead of my dad’s birthday. “Ahead of my dad’s birthday” I choke on my words, my dad did not deserve to die in that way, he was a good man, a good father, a kind-hearted husband.
I let the tears roll down my cheeks one more time as I pay my final personal respect to my dad maybe not final, because this pain I am sure will take a long time to go away. I place the portrait down gently into the already made package, and seal it. My hands begin to shake as I carry it out my room, and as I am about to shut the door, I hear muffled sounds, no doubt coming from the sitting room. My heart begins its normal race and in wonder I take little steps down the stairs.
"As a member of the ‘elites’ group of scientists, we promise to get to the bottom of this…" the huge man with a scare on his nose says as he looks around the sitting room almost like he is in search of something, he then pauses for a while as he brings out a brown file from within his grasp. The elite’s group of scientists is a group my dad was in, not until after his death, they are a group of scientists hired by the Koura Government to carry out certain research.
I am sure the file in his hands contains some of dad’s document, “news sure does spread fast, like a wild fire” I mutter under my breath.
"I have a request Mary" he calls to my mom whose name is Mary, a frown marring his face as he did so, making the scar on his nose seem more hideous than it was few seconds ago.
"Permit me on behalf of the council of scientists to file a case against the alleged suspect Katherine Mendes" my feet of their own accord get stuck on the stairs because what the hell.
"Just who gave you the right to walk into my home, and accuse my daughter of murder? Its suicide!" she screams at him. "My husband committed suicide" she speaks again. "With all due respect Mary" he says walking closer.
"We both know; it wasn't suicide, reports show it was a gunshot to the head, and since the body was moved from this place, I am sure as hell that you knew this before me" My mom in her fiery stance walks towards him and says.
"With all due respect Dean, we both know my daughter did not kill him" she refers to the scar face man. She walks back to the couch and as she seats, The Dean guy says.
"She is black"
YOU ARE READING
HIS BROWN SKIN GIRL| (EDITED VERSION)✔
Romance"His dislike became his obsession" Set in a time and place where being black became a stigma. Katherine Mendel found herself in a dead category of brown skinned. Katherine's father was said to have committed suicide. But a murder planned wrong broug...
