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439 Words
How would you advice a young adult to behave when going to see her father who she hasn’t seen in almost a year?’
‘Haha, kidding. I know exactly how to act’.
Quickly loosening my hair from it’s cornrows, I ran a comb through it and packed it upwards, leaving tendrils to frame my face. Then I applied lipgloss and smacked my lips together, looking at myself in the mirror.
One thing that runs in my family is good genes, we’re actually good looking and I take pride for being a beautiful girl.
My caramel skin is spotless and flawless, with a beauty spot underneath my lower lip, towards the right corner. If someone looks closely they might actually see light freckles dusted on my face, but I never let anyone get that close to me. I love my personal space so much.
“Alright, I’m done here. Phone, charger, wallet, keys, earphones, lip gloss, all check”. I mentally checked before leaving, it’s a very typical thing for me to always forget something.
“Mom I’m leaving”. I called out to my mother.
“Wait young lady”. I heard her voice stop me before I could open the front door.
“Oh no”.
“You haven’t seen your father in almost a year are you sure you want to do this?”
I looked at her face and saw concern written all over it, she seemed like she was keeping something from me but don’t know how to break it to me.
“Is he dead?”
“God, no Emma! Why would you think such a thing”.
“I don’t know”, I shrugged at her. “Maybe because of the way you’re fidgety and you seem like you don’t want me to go. Like it’s a bad idea to go”.
“No no no, I absolutely don’t mean it that way sweetie. I just want you to be fine, the stress of driving there twice a day today and you have school to prepare for. Then leaving for school, the stress load will be too much sweetie”.
“Mom”, I held her face with my both hands. “I’ll be fine. Just a quick drive over and back, don’t worry about me”.
“Okay sweetie, be careful”.
“I will”, I gave her a quick kiss on her cheeks and left the house to my car.
My phone rang just as I got to my car and opened the door, Maya was calling again.
- Writer
