Chapter 7 #3
“Shit,” she sighs, then slumps in the chair. While shaking her head, she utters, “My momma gon’ kill me. I can’t tell her this. She graduated from here. Damn. There’s nothing I can do? Nothing?”
“No. Unfortunately, the summer term was your last chance.”
“Okay,” she says, defeated. “Do I need to sign something?”
“Just your housing exit form the day you leave. Just let your R.A. know. She has to inspect your room and you’ll both sign.
Failure to do that is a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar penalty.
Your official dismissal letter will be emailed today and sent via certified mail to your permanent address on file. ”
“My momma’s house,” she exco, then exhales loudly. “Alright.” She grabs a few more tissues, covering her eyes, then says, “Okay.”
Kierra stands and so do I. After stepping from behind my desk, I stand in front of her and place my arms around her.
While embracing her, I tell her sincerely, “This isn’t the end of your academic career. It’s just a rock in the road. Take the time, get yourself together, and apply to come back.”
Her arms embrace me then she nods against my shoulder. “Okay,” she whimpers. She holds me for a few moments then drops her arms, steps back, grabs her backpack, and ambles out of my office.
I follow and ask Lexie to join me. I advise her that I’m leaving and probably won’t be back for the rest of the day. We rearrange my schedule together then I grab my things and head to Crescent Pointe.
Because all my mother ever talked about when we lived in The Manor was a yard, I purchased a corner lot with a nice front yard and huge backyard. The same service that maintains my landscaping takes care of hers too.
I pull into the driveway of her three-bedroom, two bath, single story home and practically jump out. Normally, I knock and allow her to let me in, but nerves have me using my key.
“Rah-Rah!” she calls out.
“It’s me, Momma,” I respond as I close the door.
“I’m in the kitchen.” After stepping out of my heels, I journey through the living and dining rooms then enter the kitchen.
She’s looking pretty as always in one of her cute muumuus.
Her silver and black micro locs are pulled back into a ponytail and she’s stuffing the butter croissants she gets from The Marketplace with tuna.
I swear she makes the best tuna. As simplistic as the recipe is, no matter how many times I make it, it never tastes like hers.
“Wash your hands while I finish these,” she says with a smile.
Growing up, it was really just the three of us. When I was twelve, we lost my father. He died from a heart attack and she became a single parent, making ends meet with her salary from working in the cafeteria at Manor Crossing Elementary.
Kym and I were so close growing up. Hell, my mother practically made us best friends.
We are only twenty-two months apart, and because my mom always dressed us alike, people used to think we were twins when we were younger.
If anyone would have told me that she would break my heart and betray me, I would have called that person a liar.
Forgiving Kym or forgetting what she did isn’t even in my consciousness.
Neither will ever happen, never, but my mom can’t seem to accept that.
It’s like she doesn’t see my side or understand my feelings.
All of her focus is on me mending things with Kym and not the true issue.
Kym cheating with my ex-husband and marrying him should have never occurred.
“Grab my bag of Fritos from the pantry, please,” she says once I wash my hands.
“You and your Fritos,” I tease because three snacks will always be in her house: Fritos, Snickers, and Oreos.
“Then, you better not eat one.”
As she places our tuna croissants on small plates, I grab the Fritos from the pantry and two bottles of water from the fridge. She takes the plates to the kitchen nook and I join her.
“Momma, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask.
“Why do you assume something is wrong?”
“Because you haven’t given me eye contact since I got here. If your daughter is walking in here soon, tell me now so I can leave,” I say adamantly.
“Rah-Rah,” she says with a heavy sigh.
She lied to me.
“Momma, please don’t tell me this is about Kym.”
“She’s pregnant and really wants to talk to you. Don’t you think it’s about time you put all that hatred about this mess behind you,” she has the nerve to say.
“This mess? You mean Kym fucking the man I married behind my back? Or do you mean when I saw her fucking him with my own two eyes? What mess?” I spit.
“Kyrah Patrice Morris, I know you aren’t talking to me like that.”
“Unfortunately, Momma, I am. Ugh, I can’t.
” After shaking my head in disgust, I stand.
“I’m not the one who was wrong in this. Can’t you see that?
She hurt me bad, and no, I can’t just put it behind me.
And you know what, you might want to talk to her about hatred.
I loved her; she just didn’t feel the same.
“Do you know I have a man who loves me, cares for me, and would do anything for me and I can’t even tell him I love him back. I’m scared to because the last man I loved, my sister fucked.”
“That’s the last time you curse,” she practically yells.
“No, it isn’t, because each and every time you bring Kym up, I’m going to curse.
Every fucking time. Maybe you’ll finally hear that she hurt me.
That she was wrong, not me. I’m leaving, and until you can stop mentioning her, I’m going to have to keep my distance, Momma.
I love you, I do, but I can’t. I can’t.”
She starts to speak but I can’t hear anything else from her right now.
I’ve said enough and that’s only half the anger I feel.
Another minute in this house might lead me to say things I will never be able to take back.
My mother lied to me and got me over here for Kym.
I can’t stay here. I have to leave before Kym actually shows up.
I would hate to put my hands on a pregnant lady.
I’m furious, steaming actually, as I rush to the front door and slide back into my heels. My tote is in my hand and I’m opening the door when I hear my mom calling after me.
“Rah-Rah!”
“Fuck this,” I utter as I storm out.
I’m taking my ass back to work.