"Cause if you let me,
here's what I'll do
I'll take care of you"
Allaya is just a girl from the Caribbean trying to make it in NYC. She's too busy going after everything she's ever wanted to be bothered with the drama that comes with love and relat...
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The small radio that was propped up on the rustic wooden chair in the corner of the room, provided my only company.
Sade's soft vocals cradled my sadness then transformed it into fury - and that was just in a matter of one week. But now...well now, my old friend depression had me pinned to this spongy bed, in this cold dark room.
Gentle streams of white light peeked from within the faded blue curtains and strained with all its might to be freed.
For the past few days, I slept in an "X" position, trying to fill the entire bed. Usually I would be surrounded by a warm body, but now I loathed sleeping alone.
A cycle of lonliness. First I missed him, then I hated him. Next, after I thought about all the shit that happened, I hated me for hating him.
My phone had been turned off since the moment I had arrived, and all I wanted to do was confide in Bri.
Ain't that funny?
I wanted to talk to the same person, I hid things from. If the situation was different between us, I knew at this very moment I would have probably been at her apartment singing Me, Myself and I from the top of my lungs.
That didn't matter now though. None of it did.
I tossed and turned, sick of the music playing from the broken radio.
There was no doubt that I had to have gone insane, because besides getting up to shower and eat, I just laid here and wallowed.
Suddenly, the room door opened and I pretended to be asleep. I could hear my grandmother shuffling around the room, moving things on the dresser. The sound of the curtain rings dragging against the metal rod and the bright mid-morning sunlight infiltrated my lids.
She turned off the radio and spoke,
"Allaya, wake up now. It's enough of this!", she exclaimed. "You have things to do today, and I won't let you hold up in this bed any longer." Her voice was firm.
I rolled over, brought the blue floral comforter over my head, and groaned.
"Little girl don't play with me." She warned.
My stomach twisted in pain as another wave of nausea hit me. I didn't have the strength to leave this room.
"I can't", I whispered. "I wanna stay here."
The bed dipped, and she peeled the comforter back from my face. Her red-painted finger swiped a stray tear. It's amazing that I still had some left to cry.
"Well you can't do that either. Allaya..." she sighed, petting my matted hair. "...you know you're my favorite grandchild and you should know that everything I say to you is with love."
