My Mother's Boyfriend

UNCHAINED

I am in this shuttle van. It is a 7-sitter. The driver has this untidy beard straightened down the chin. It's whitish. This makes him look religious. He is playing for us some traditional songs, which must be religious. The volume is hissing from the speakers, you have to strain to listen. It is like some strange music from a far land. I am seated right next to him and this religious moment makes me feel peaceful, way better that last night. 

LAST NIGHT? 

Mom slept on the couch! They kept dodging each other. If one moved to the bedroom, the other left the bedroom! That was Mom. she had lost the psychological fight and lured dad into where ladies win, in drama! She wanted to late in the night. Dad prevented her! 

Stupid dad. If i were him, I would let her leave. Ladies fear the night. Oh no, she would call Frankie to pick him up. Oh yes, then I would ask Dad to trail her. See, we would finish this game tonight. But dad's miscalculating nature that night transferred issues into a new day!

TODAY

I am travelling to Aunt Perry's. She is fun. Her laughs tickle you. She laughs about anything nearest to funny. If it gets to funny, she ,literally dies. She can roll on the door mat, wailing and name calling when it gets funnier. I can only imagine how she moans in bed. It must be ecstatic right? Please agree with me. I love those non verbal confirmations. 

We have gone past the busy traffic down to a smooth highway. Perry stays in the outskirts of the city. Her hubby prefers so because he is a teacher. A teacher of literature for that matter. They say teachers are husband materials. They are cut from submissive material. They are not renting. He owns a home. They only have one child. Blessing.

BLESSING?

Her flesh is sampled like her mothers, except for the size. She is slim. Both are short. When her mothers walks in the house, the floor shakes. When Blessing does so, the house shackles. Blessing is more endowed. She got ass plus. I envy her. Walking with her on the road is self humiliating. 

"Do you wash?" I would ask

"Why would I?" She would sneer at that.

"I mean, girls are supposed to wash their clothes."

"You look at my fingers? These are meant to scratch my man's balls."

"Oh my God." 

I would cover my mouth to avoid accompanying her loud laughter. She has clean dirty thoughts you know. But her innocent face never suggest so about her. She is those typa girls who would steal your man and drive you into depression.

"Nah, look here Tyra,, just imagine scratching his balls slowly then inserting your ring finger into his..."

"Stop right there."

"Why?"

"Just stop. You are turning me on."

"Sure? Lemme check!"

She would laugh as I gave her that warning look like an astonished celibate. Sweet memories, sweet days. I grin at her tenderness and turn my head to look at the window as if she is there smiling back at me. The driver must have been observing me.

"Are you running away from home." He asks. 

"Are you talking to me?"

"That answers my question. You look beautiful." 

'You look beautiful' hits different depending on who says it. In this situation I feel defiled. When you choose a seat in the driver cabin, you never know who the driver is. You always pray for the best. Now see what I led myself into. Bullshit. A man of his age should not notice beauty. I mean how? 

"I love telling this to young girls because most of them are misusing their value."

"Thank you." I chuckle. 

I hate lectures and those boring stories of how to be good and how not to be good. I want him to concentrate on driving and if possible, drive fast. I want to see my cousin. But i also feel talking to someone about my mother. I love her. s**t. I hate to say that. I love her But I love my dad too. If they break up, Dad will remarry. That s**t scares the hell out of me. If I never let dad know the truth, I mean, if I am not going to let dad know the truth, I might end up with a sister or brother who does not belong to my father, but so some poor ass nigga. 

An abusive wave overcomes my thoughts, I bite my lips, I want to shout. I want to open the car door and go out for fresh air. I try to contain myself until he asks another question.

"Are you okay?"

"Just drive you dumb ass!"

Oh God. I feel bad. He had interrupted me at the wrong time. 

"I am sorry. I am just going through something and I want you to just drive."

"No problem, I understand. You know everyone is gong through...."

Oh God, what is wrong with this driver. I am pissed off. I would have just sat at the back with some cute guy looking at me. But I wanted to be alone. He doe not get it. I feel like switching seats. I glare at the space between my seat and the driver's. I lock eyes with this cute guy. Jeez! He has been staring at me. Yes, I can tell.I want to look behind but I need to maintain my price higher than him. But I just want us to lock eyes again. 

So I have to pretend that I am doing something. I adjust my seat and unbuckle the seat beat. Our eyes meet again. He smiles and wins at the same time. That gives me goosebumps. 

The van veers off the road to a roadside motel. I get off, stretch my feet and my eyes scan the other passengers. Someone touches me from behind. 

"You can exchange seats with the guy next to me. He seems approachable. Call me Joe."

"I'm Tyra."

"Shall we?"

H looks nice. Straight shaven black hair stands on his head is barely covered with a black cape. He is brown. His teeth outshines his smile. He has a breath of heaven. He is also gentle, he literally to greet me. That made me adore his height. I wanted to hug but I remembered Frankie's bad manners. 

"Yes, we shall."