How to Crush the Right Way

18 ¦ dreams

18: dreams

Bazzi - dreams

' beautiful dream, don't know what it means '

×

"Ashley."

Uh oh. When my father called me using my name, I knew that something wasn't right. He always called me 'Mini' or 'Nana'. To say that I was scared would be an understatement. My heart was practically on my knees.

I recalled all the incidents that I had done. Maybe Annah snitched on me and told my father that I had an almost-boyfriend.

Oh goodness.

As I meandered up the stairs, my mind was buzzing, my ears were burning up and my eyes were watery.

I didn't think it was healthy for a child to be this scared of their father.

"Dad?"

My friends were always gobsmacked when they heard me call my father 'Dad'. They usually called their fathers baba or papa.

Even though I was scared of my father, there were times when I was cool around him. As much as my father was in his early forties, he was still twenty-seven at heart.

The way I spoke to him sometimes would definitely surprise many people. I said words to him like mize and chilled. On rare occasions I called him bro and he didn't seem to mind.

"Come in." He said from behind the door of his bedroom, I twisted the door knob and walked in.

My parent's bedroom was the biggest bedroom in the whole whole. It had a big King size bed on the left, some type of a walk - in closet and a bathroom. Their bedroom had two balconies. One on the left side and one of the right side near the bathroom.

My father had a TV in the bedroom and a red, Smeg mini fridge. Now that I thought about it, most of the appliances in our house were Smeg appliances.

The mini fridge had bottles of water, ice cream, juice and all sorts of things that my parents liked. The reason for this mini fridge was that when they wanted a late night snack - they wouldn't go downstairs.

I now see where I got my laziness from.

My father was seated on his bed, legs crossed and eyes focused on something playing on the TV. He patted the spot next to him with his right hand as a gesture for me to sit next to him.

I clambered up the bed and looked at the TV too, not wanting to make any type of eye contact.

"Your mother and I have reached a decision." He said, eyes still focused on the screen on the wall about the dresser.

"A decision regarding?" I raised an eyebrow.

Even though my father had mentioned my mother in the statement, I knew that he was probably the one who made the decision - whatever it was. He was omnipotent in our household. It probably had everything to do with the patriarchy and I hated that. It was the 21 century and the man making the decisions in the house was quite outdated.