Love Is Blind - The Biography. (Norminah)

No. 10

Normani's POV.

"What the actual?" I ask, myself more than anyone else, seeing that I was the only one in this filthy kitchen. That, and the fact that I could barely hear anybody else in the house due to the loud music.

We could be getting robbed, and we wouldn't know it. This is why I'd prefer my own place, but whatever. I shake my head and make my way out of the dirty kitchen, still unsure if we were robbed or not, into the hallway following to my room, but not before I stop in front of my sisters.

I take two steps back and end up in front of her door. I raise my eyebrows at her appearance, which is as dirty as the kitchen, mind you, and then come to the conclusion that this means one thing.

She's stuck.

It sucked being creative, trust me, I know. But I could never have it as bad as her. I mean, I get given things to do, but she's the one that has to create the things given to people like me to do. What was going on in her head was probably a nightmare.

I'd just drop my purse on the table and make my way to my room, get in the shower, and then get under the blankets and stay there for as long as I could, as I usually did (I'm not lying, this job is tiring), but now... now my sister is in a shlump. And she needs me. And she's always there when I need her. So...

I sigh and throw my purse on the table anyway, and make my way into Onika's room, where she's staring at the ceiling, obviously thinking about something very hard. I decide not to disturb her, and instead just slip my feet out of my shoes, and get onto the bed next to her.

I have really sensitive ears, so I silently reach over her and grab the remote, turning down the music, which seems to snap her out of her daze. "Hey Pretty." she greets me, generously displaying her dimples that she was blessed with, and I wasn't.

"Hey." I smile back. "Stuck?"

"It's a bitch, Mani." she sighs, and I chuckle under my breath. She had these moments once in a while, but they never lasted long, so she'd be fine. She had an imagination for the whole of Africa. And Africa's people could come up with pretty crazy things, so...

"So you're here leaving the kitchen dirty and playing loud music?" I ask, I wasn't going to let that slip. "Someone could've broken in, and we wouldn't have known."

"Do you not see me laying here, about to die in my own sweat and creativeless." she scrunches her face up. "-Ness?" she asks herself. "Is that a thing?"

"I wouldn't know." I shrug, chuckling as I do so. She was one creative person. Half of these other bitches couldn't even spell creativity.

"So how was work?" she asks me, and I shrug.

"Same old. It's getting tough though." I admit, and she furrows her eyebrows, which I'm really jealous of, giving me a look of concern. "Well, I don't know about all of this... producing and directing thing anymore." I sigh. "I mean, it's just so much easier being told, than doing the telling."

"Why?"

"Because I have to use my brain?" I guess, and she nods with a small laugh.

"Get used to it."

"But I don't wanna..." I whine. I just wanted life easy like I always had it - Well, most of the time.

"Did you look over the old scripts I gave you?" she asks, and I nod, picking at a thread on her shirt. "And?"

"And why are they old scripts that have never been used? Drafts? They're fucking gold." I tell her, and she smiles.

"Because... I don't know, I just either have no time, am lazy, or just... I don't know, don't feel like it's worth it." she admits.