Dangerously Quiet

1.

Amara

I remember everything. 

I mean, everything. 

It's a curse, sometimes a gift, okay so maybe sometimes a huge pain in the ass but I remember everything. Grandma called it a blessing, a blessing not to be exploited that's why we didn't tell anyone. I remembered the day my mother left me with her, I was both delighted at the prospect of staying with her and sad that my mother no longer wanted me around. I didn't ask mother when she will return, I was just happy to see the woman who always calls and sends me gifts when we were back home in New York. I only had one backpack of clothing and a bear with one eye in my arms when I arrived. My gifts were sold. Mother needed money for groceries, I understood that but I never saw enough food in the fridge when I looked. At five years old I knew what was right and what was wrong. I understood lies, bad actions, anger and also when a grown-up wasn't a good parent. 

As I said before, I remember everything but emotions I think I had a good handle on them. I read a lot and watched enough television to understand, though it was all entirely foreign. 

Do you want to know my favorite memory of that day was, twelve years ago?

My grandma's big smile and the scent of her springtime perfume. She gave me the biggest hug ever and called me her 'sweet-pea.'

Mrs. Georgina Banks-Jackson took me in, no questions asked. She didn't ask where her daughter was and I didn't ask how long I was to stay with her. We were content. I loved to read, still do. My mind is like a sponge, so many facts stays up there and simply pops out of my mouth when something familiar comes up during a conversation. I excelled in all my classes, my teachers wanted Grandma to place me in one of those special schools for bright students but she refused. She wanted me to be normal and not some 'brain child'. I'm thankful to her about that, I made real friends and understood how to be social with kids my age. I may be extremely smart but social situations were awkward for me. 

I learned how to talk or explain things to people without sounding obnoxious and I learned social graces. Practical experiences were better than books by far. I loved being a kid in small-town Idaho. Though my skin color was darker than most, I made friends and enjoyed my childhood immensely. I even got my first kiss from a boy named Tony Harris, we were eight and I was awfully confused as to why he did this and why his face was extremely red when I asked him to do it again. I was curious. I went home and recalled a book on modern-day childhood. It turned out, the boy had a crush on me. Such a silly word, I thought it was. Crush. Infatuation I called it. I told my grandma, of course, the book said I should but she simply laughed and began her light teasing. She was very accepting of that change of my growing so I brushed it off and became Tony Harris' girlfriend for a while. He told me he now liked Cathy Jericho, I shrugged it off and continued my reading. I found him confusing and not worth research. When that happened I gained a best friend. Teresa Pacheco was also a minority in town but equally loved by all, just like myself. There wasn't such a thing called 'race superiority' in our town, we were all fine with everything. Teresa told me I shouldn't have let Tony get off so easy, he broke my heart. Again I was non-plussed at that age, I was more focused on my studies and what I wanted to be when I get older. She took it upon herself and pushed him into a mud puddle behind slides in the school playground, shouting to the entire class that he was a jerk. Up to this day, I found it highly amusing yet confusing by her actions. She was so silly. 

The years passed with so many life lessons and happiness but I noticed my sweet grandma's health fading.  I was thirteen and on the cusp of being a young woman. Grandma was giving me the talk and backed it up with my findings, even taught me how to use a sanitary napkin and keep my self clean during those four to five days of menstruation. We were seated in the sitting room with cups of tea on a silver tray and brownies, freshly baked beside them. It was our afternoon tea as I dubbed it. We always had something to talk about. We were taking a tea break from our talk when I noticed her sunken brown eyes and shaking hands. My grandma was still a striking woman for her mature age. Her curvy figure was still there, her natural black hair was now grey and styled in long braids. Her brown skin was a hue darker than mine and considered cocoa-brown where I was considered caramel brown.  My hair was natural also with a tad bit of curls and softer which made management easier. My body type was a bit thick but grandma said it was my genes getting ready to mold my beautiful shape.