How it happened.

How to cross a bad boy

 

   My Aunt wakes me up to the sound of beating drums.

I sit up in my bed and rub my fists over my eyes, trying to get the sleep to go away. I just sit there for a moment and feel the vibrations of the drum travel all over the house.

I hear someone singing off key in a high pitched voice and I know it’s my Aunt. I pull my curly hair into a ponytail and push the covers off my legs, swinging my legs over the bed. 

  I open my door slowly and see my Aunt on her tippy toes , dancing around the room. She has on a long, red beaded skirt and a white shirt tucked into it.

Necklaces hang all over and all over her arms are all the bangles I saw the first day here. For once, her hair is down and It cascades in beautiful curls. 

She was actually kind fo pretty.

   My Aunt was maybe around forty and if she wasn’t the way she was, I knew she could find a man in an instant. I mean, who wants a women who is going to wake them up with belting drums? 

I don't even think God could handel it. 

     I watch as another crash of the drums fill the air and my Aunt bends with her hands over her head. She yells something and twirls fast.

When she straightens out, she stops and see’s me standing against the wall. 
 

  She walks over to the Stereo system and stops the tape. She’s breathing heavily and she has sweat rolling down her face like rain.
 

     "What was that?" I ask, pointing to the stereo .

She wipes her hands on her skirt and smiles. "Its called the Cherokee Morning Song."I raise my eyebrows as she heads to the kitchen.

  "But , you're not even Native American " I state , following behind her and taking a seat at the table. I look at the clock and notice I have some time before I have to get ready for school.
 

      "No, " She confesses while putting creamer in her coffee. "But the culture is a beautiful thing. Their music always finds a way leak into your soul and steal your breath."

She must see the look on my face because she laughs a good matter. "you think im silly."

"Well," I inquire, turning my head to the side. I didn’t want to be rude .. but I didn’t really believe in all the stuff that came out of her mouth.
 

She sits down across from me her eyes bright.

" I’ll try to explain. When you love someones ways and experience someone else’s culture , besides your own, you feel more connected to the people. The earth. You look at people as a whole. Not a half. You get to get a sense of where they come from and how life might be for them."

Im still looking at her funny and she lets out her breath. 

     "Your mother looked at me the same way." I stop breathing at the mention of my mother. My Aunt goes still too, noticing that she said something she shouldn’t have.

 "Do .. do you still talk to her?" I say in a very small voice. I start to trace the scratches in the table, trying not to let my Aunt see the hurt and longing in my gaze.

I really wanted to know the answer. 

Even if it did scare me.

 It seems like forever before she answers. "your mother .. " She stops and It seems like she’s trying to think of what to say.

"Your mother is a good person." She finally gets out after awhile. 

  That doesn’t answer my question and my blood feels like its boiling.