---- KING ----
"Can you bring me my food, please?" My mum asked as she turned to look at me, her eyes pleading with me to bring her some food as I sat on the seat beside her couch.
"You already had your food, ma. You need to wait until dinner." I said to her apologetically with a small smile.
"You never help me." She said like a child as she turned around, showing me her back instead and making me sigh. I looked around for a nurse but couldn't see one anywhere.
"Mum?" I said softly, but she ignored me. "Mum, I'll bring you McDonald's next week." I reasoned with an exhale. I only got to see her once a week and I didn't want to spend the only hour I got with her during the week with her being mad at me.
"Okay." She said simply, turning back around to look at me and I gave her a small smile, clenching my jaw as I looked at my fingers. I don't know why my mother was like this, or what I did in my childhood to deserve this. I loved my mother more than everything and anything in this world, I would die for her, yet why couldn't she be normal. It wasn't even her being sick that got to me, but the fact that because of her sickness, she couldn't show me her love and Lord knows I needed at least one person in this entire world to show me love.
"Do you still have the Islamic pamphlet?" I asked her slowly, looking back up at her face and watching as she nodded her head. "Here, look. I want to show you something." I said, taking my phone out of my pocket and opening my photo library. The last time I went to the mosque where Walter explained to me the story of Umar Ibn al-Khattab, I had quickly snapped a few pictures and a video of the architecture while the men were busy praying.
"Oh, wow." She said in awe as she looked at the screen with wide eyes, her mouth agape. I smiled at her, watching her facial expressions as I pressed play on the video. She looked so calm, awe-stricken and serene as she stared at the screen.
She looked a lot like me whenever I was at the masjid.
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"How'd your dinner go?" I asked my dad, not even glancing up to look at him as I took the fork to my mouth, shoving the potato in and chewing loudly, not caring that Nadia was sitting right across me beside my dad.
"It went well." He answered simply, looking at me with slightly narrowed eyes as he chopped the bloody potato on his bloody plate in half with a bloody knife before putting it into his bloody mouth.
I found that swearing at him on the inside helped me control my anger on the outside.
"Did you make thousands off the deal?" I scoffed sarcastically. He knew I couldn't give a crap less about his damn business or his deals.
"Yes, in fact. We did. Quite a few hundreds of thousands." He answered, making me roll my eyes as he seemed so happy and proud of himself. I wonder what it was like to be a father who cared more about the well-being of his business than the well-being of his son?
Could never relate.
"That's great. Now you can go spend that money buying your trophy wife a little gift." I muttered, my mum flashing in my mind and making me clench my jaw. It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that he was here making millions and leading an extravagant life when my mum was cooped up in a mental hospital.
I heard Nadia release a sigh and I glanced her way. She looked at me in disappointment. I liked Nadia. She was a nice step mum even though we hardly spoke and so I did very slightly feel bad about what I said, but it was worth it when I saw my dad tense up.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Islam
Teen Fiction-- Life works in mysterious ways. King Patterson never really thought about life in depth. He did not care much for his future. He did not plan. There was no use. He would be six feet under today, tomorrow or the day after that. He took each day as...
