Today marks the anniversary of my solitary and gloomy life.
As I sit here on the stone beach behind my one-room apartment, memories of the past begin to fill my mind or I would rather say I've been living with them for many years now. I was in my fifteenth year in the world when these thoughts started coming into me.
Thoughts of worthlessness, pessimism and ultimate failure. And with this, it's obvious where it's gonna end. Suicide.
Back then, I grew up with my parents in our rented apartment. We were poor but I was living well with them, enjoying their company until the thought of having another baby came to their minds. They told me with happiness thinking I'll also be happy but it didn't go that way.
Anyone might wonder why I wasn't happy with my parents having another baby, at least a brother or a sister to share my life with, to keep me company. It's ridiculous, yet I had my own reasons which I think my parents didn't see until later on. Perhaps they saw it but didn't feel like taking it into consideration.
I was the only kid they had at that time and life wasn't pretty much smooth as I said earlier. We were surviving from the little work dad had as a company cleaner, then mom was a florist, she sold flowers from her apartment's store. A small kiosk was erected before the apartment where she displayed her flowers and customers came calling but it wasn't a luxurious business I can say.
One day, mom walked to my room, sat on the bed beside me, smiling.
"Mom, what?" I remember asking her but she only gave me a wink. I was writing some stuff on my long notes. I was born to be a writer because I started writing from age three where most kids were playing with toys, not like I didn't have my own toys to play with, I had, but I spent most of my time writing.
Writing what, you may ask.
Writing stories, creating interesting stories from creative thoughts of what I want to be in the world. All those books are on my shelves here, I would never part without them. Anywhere I'm going in the world, I'll always go with them.
After some seconds, she threw up her question. "How would you feel if you had a little sis or bro, Freda?" She asked, still smiling. She expected me to smile, but instead I frowned. Her smile was withdrawn, she shifted back in shock.
"What's wrong, baby?" Baby was a name she always called me when she needed me to do something like listen to what she is saying to me, in form of advice or something, or when she was seeking something from me, like forgiveness. At that point, she knew I wasn't pleased with what she said, so she decided to pamper me a bit. Outside this, she always addresses me by my name, Fernanda, over time it became Ferda, the shorter version of it.
I lightened up a bit at the call of baby but that didn't mean my frown had disappeared. I just showed that I appreciated the name but my original facial expression was still there.
Even with my frown, I turn to wonder why I was displeased by this, I should be happy. I began to feel some guilt but it didn't stop me from sticking to my resolve. I had my own reasons so I couldn't easily be made to leave them.
"Mom, why do you want to have another kid when you barely have enough to give me and you don't have a better job, nor does dad?"
This shot through her brain like a spear shot directly at her, I saw the effect on her face, the shock and disappointment. It felt like she was gonna cry, I felt bad at this moment but my mind was still strong about what I had said. I had no regrets even when guilt set in, I made her feel bad but I had to tell her the truth.
"Do you want me to suffer?" I added as if what I had said was not enough. It became another blow, she stood up, rushed out of my room, I think to go cry. After she left, hot tears filled my eyes. I dropped the pen I was writing with angrily on the book. A drop of tear fell on the white page of the book, moistening the spot.
Dad was a cleaner and as a cleaner, he wasn't earning much for a family of three, even with the money which mom added. We only adapted to the situation we found ourselves, hoping that the future would be better, only for them to bring in another challenge, a baby.
I envisaged the cost of raising a baby till it was my age, and I wasn't even done with high school where I would think of going out to find some small jobs based on my qualifications just to aid my family.
Honestly, I became pissed with the idea. I began to think of the reason mom wanted another baby, or is it my dad that really wants it and told my mom. Even if it was this way, why would she accept it with the situation we were in?
Dad wasn't an abusive person but he was a great flirt, he had a Mistress even with the presence of my mom. He often went out to her, stayed outside for one week, sometimes close to two, and he was living with this lady. I came to realize that he loved this lady more than mom. This got me disappointed with him, but I couldn't change him either way. Even mom had tried her best to make sure that he doesn't continues with the lady, so many quarrels, tantrums and threats but all were to no avail. It came to a point where he refused to send in money for the running of affairs at home, my mom would do everything with the little money she earned, and he would come back and enjoy the goodies, feed on the food she bought. His money might have been steadily going to this mistress of his.
Now, he was asking her to bear another child for him. An idea came to mind, I knew for sure that my mom would be crying and dad wasn't at home, he hadn't yet returned from work and I wasn't sure if he was going to come back today because he do spend some days with his Mistress. It was in the afternoon, the atmosphere was cool and mild, not sunny, neither cloudy.
I rushed off my bed and out of my room to the bathroom where I knew she must be. I found her by the side of the entrance washing her face on the sink. I stood behind her for a while. I don't know if she detected my presence, but a few seconds later, she turned towards me. I stood there with remorseful eyes wanting to tell her I'm sorry for what I said earlier to her which is the cause of her tears but I couldn't say it. I just stood there watching her with my hands clasped to my front.
She eventually walked past me and towards the garden at the backyard of our house where she got the flowers she sold. There was a stone bench in it, on which she sat. I knew she was angry now, no longer heartbroken. I stood by the back door of our apartment wondering if I should go to her, I had followed her up to this point and I didn't know what her reaction would be if I crossed my personal space to hers, perhaps she needed some time alone. She wanted space, I don't know what came over me, I stepped down the stairs to her where I intended to sit close to her to tell her why I actually said what I said in case she didn't really take her thoughts to that side.
As I was about to sit on the bench, I received a push which led me crashing to the ground. Thank God it wasn't a stony ground, I would most likely have gotten myself injured. It didn't end here, she hit me twice on the face. I stared at her from the ground I was lying with my eyes wide, she had never hit me before, this was the first time.
"You think I'll be listening to your words and not my husband?"
I felt so bad because of this statement. It made me feel as if I was of no importance to her, as if I was of less importance and dad was more. I wouldn't be thinking this way if he truly loved her, but in this case, I saw that he was just using her while his interest was with someone else. I had said it in her best interest but she took it personally.
I stood from the ground with deviance. My eyes turned bloodshot and my heart got furious with anger. "You don't want to take what I'm telling you, but I promise you will see the truth in my words at the end of the day!" With this I stormed off the garden.
"When your dad returns, I must tell him of this." She laid it as a threat but my heart was too furious to feel the effects of this threat. I just told myself that she could do whatever she felt like doing, I was prepared for whatever would come to me as a result.
From my foresight, I could see it wasn't going to end well and sure it was as I thought. When my dad came back, luckily for her that same day, I don't know if she called him, she reported me to him as she had promised. My dad called and asked me, I reported same to him, telling him my reasons. I saw mom's tight face but that didn't deter me from saying what I wanted to boldly.
"You want to sever the bond between me and my husband?" She said which I believe was to please my dad. This pissed me and made me say what I never hoped to say in dad's presence.
"You think that bearing another child for him would make him return to you?"
I felt numb and froze in shock after the words came out of my mouth. I knew certainly I had crossed the line I shouldn't be crossing. I stood there like a frightened little child before a scary zombie.
He rose up, I thought that he was going to hit me as mom did but he didn't. He stopped a few inches from where I was. "If you wouldn't accept us having another child, then be prepared for a different era." I watched as mom nodded even without knowing what he was going to say.
"I give you only three days from now on to accept our decision, if not you get prepared to pack your things and leave. Go and fend for yourself. You say we are too poor to feed you with the new baby we are going to have?" He said it as if I was saying something which wasn't true.
"Except you would be getting a better job," I muttered with a low tone that was almost inaudible.
He got furious and charged through me, but I ran out of the room and out of the house. I didn't want to experience his hitting, I know how I felt about mom's own, his own would be the worst.
I didn't accept their decision, I couldn't. I would be signing into another life with greater difficulty. I wasn't just prepared to suffer, I thought that if I still stood on my decision, they would have a change of mind but I was mistaken. Instead of them kicking this decision out of their minds, I was the one who got kicked out of the house.
That's how I came to live in this abandoned one-room apartment.
