||TAMIA||

"Why are you still sleeping?" I hear Mom asking, as if in a puzzled if not surprised tone.

I swiftly stir on my bed, open my sleepy eyes and look at her. She's standing at the doorway of our bedroom with her scrutinising gaze on me. I sit up, mentally getting ready to respond to her question. I know what she is asking and I'm afraid that I am going to disappoint her with my response.

"I'm not going," I say in a hoarse voice.

I caught a damn cold a few days ago after a harsh drizzle rained on me downslope where I am spending most of my days. Still lonely, sad and afraid on the inside.

The cold has been giving me a hell of nostalgic feelings because it reminds me of the last time I had it. It was when Joe and I started our crazy adventures. That night when he first sneaked into school to see me. Now it awfully feels like a lifetime ago. And that makes me miss him so badly. All the time.

Anyway, with my response, I'm referring to going to church. It is a Sunday and usually, we always go to church together. However, for the last two or three Sundays, I have been staying home. With all the indifferent treatment my parents are still throwing my way, making me feel as if everything I did was an unforgivable mistake, I didn't feel worthy of being in a holy place.

What's more, I knew I didn't have the strength to face everyone knowing all the questions they would have. Especially those hypocrites hiding under the veil of their goodness and kindness.

Mom stares at me with a look I can't fully decipher. It is as if she is trying to figure out why I don't want to go to church. Unable to hold her stare for too long, I turn to look at Spasha. She's dressing up to go to church.

She gives me a comforting smile that melts my heart as she tries to pull up a pair of jeans that is seemingly growing smaller for her growing body. When she manages to pull it up, she pauses and lets out a relieved sigh. Inwardly, I smile knowing that she'll start complaining about it before the end of today just so that Mom can promise her a new one.

"And that because?" Mom asks in a tone that lowkey demands an answer, prompting me to turn my attention back to her.

Going out there means getting fully exposed and I would rather not. Partially because of those hypocrites. But especially because of all the speculations I've heard those hypocrites have been speculating about me. Well, those who have seen me around home, much to their curiosity.

Gossip in the village spreads faster than wildfire. And it all starts with neighbours. Maybe she's home because she's pregnant. Maybe she got expelled for misbehaviour--which is true but none of their business. Maybe she's home because her parents can't afford to pay her school fees.

If it were school fees, I'm sure some would be so happy to contribute, just to let us know that we don't have the capacity to handle my education expenses. Fucking hypocrites! Maybe she's sick. Or maybe she has switched schools. All those speculations and more. Everyone is seemingly in my business and it's annoying.

I am tired of their nosiness and their curious and judgemental eyes. I just want to hide in the safety of our compound. Just like I have been doing for the last two Sundays. In fact, nearly every day since the furthest I normally go is downslope. Well, sometimes Mom sends me to the market but I always go late in the evening when dusk is falling to avoid faces.

"I just don't want to go," I simply respond, instead.

"That's not reason enough," she states, matter of factly.

That's how I know that I've lost the battle to her.

"Plus I gave you two Sundays to sit, hide and contemplate. Now it is time you got over everything and faced everyone in your path. Wake up, get a shower and dress up. You're going to church," she adds in a commanding tone before turning and leaving.

I look at Spasha and she apologetically shrugs. I wonder how I can tell Mom why I don't really want to go to church. Damn, I can't. Not when I feel as if she'd tell me it is my fault that I am in this position.

As I cannot disobey her, else it will only tear us apart more--also, I'm still looking into getting on her good graces--I lowly huff and kick off the blankets. Clearing my stuffed throat, I walk out of the bedroom and leave Spasha to finish up her dressing.

Outside, Dad is having his breakfast at the compound chair. Today, just like yesterday, the weather has brightened up and the sun is peeking behind the clouds. Dad is ready as well. Although I am not sure if he is ready for church or business.

Most are the Sundays that he does business instead of going to church. Mostly the sale of logs, firewood and sometimes tree seedlings. He is always working, even on such Sundays, to earn something to support our family. And I'll admit, his hard work sometimes makes me feel so guilty for disappointing him.

Although I redeem myself by saying that we are all human and we are prone to making mistakes. I walk into the kitchen and get myself some breakfast. After I'm done, I proceed to take a shower and then get prepared.

A while later, I'm all dressed up in black jeans, a white hoodie and black sneakers. I join my mom and sister in the living room before we step out and leave for church.

The whole walk there, she talks with Spasha, leaving me out of their conversation. Truth be told, I feel the urge to join in but the strength to do that escapes me. So I remain silent beside them all the way.

I dare say, it is the tough attitude Mom shows me most of the time that makes it so hard for me to talk to her. Well, sometimes we do talk, but only guarded or necessary talks. We are never free like we used to. Something that I keep hoping will come to be once again.

When we get to church, I nearly curse loudly when questioning and curious gazes land on me. I'm sure in the mind of every person staring at me are a million questions. The main and tiring one, what it is that I am doing at home when I should be in SPG.

This is what happens when you live in a small community. Everyone knows you and they always want to know your business. I try ignoring the gazes while we bypass their owners without greetings.

I only greet those that Mom greets since I'm trying to hide behind her like a guilty coward. Though I am not that. It is just that I can't stand them for long before deciding to be rude by scowling, really scowling at them. Mom is the only reason I can't do it as I suspect she'd would never recover from her shock and disappointment in my behaviour.

"Wangui, why are you not in school? Or you still haven't returned?" Jemimah, a friend of my mom's asks while scrutinising me from head to toe.

She is probably trying to check if there is anything wrong with me. I feel as if I should tell her that I am perfectly fine. Well, apart from my heart. It is riddled with pain, loneliness, sadness and even fear. Simply, it is not fine without K~Prince. It will never be but nevertheless, I hold my tongue and respond to her question.

"I'm at home at the moment," is my response.

She doesn't get to know my business. If Mom feels like telling her, then she can proceed.

"I'll head inside," I tell Mom, deciding to get away from the annoying gazes.

Clinging to her side or hiding behind her will not help. I enter the church and settle at the youth's side. My fellow youths who normally attend the day schools around or are at home for the campus long holiday aren't here.

That can only mean that they are either at the youth meeting normally held before service or rehearsing a song for presentation. I decide to stay instead of going out to look for them. Even worse than the gawking adults, they would have more questions than both my ears can handle at a time.

I worship along with the adults, praying to God for His forgiveness. Additionally, my parents' understanding, love and forgiveness. When the worship is almost over, the youths march in. Most are surprised to see me.

I greet those who come to sit beside me with a fake smile and then resume worshipping. Well, it might as well be called running away from the questions I can already see going through their heads.

Afterwards, when the service is going on, they are called for a presentation. Normally, I would join then but today I can't. At a point, just before the preacher takes the mic to give us today's word, I get overwhelmed. My mind starts racing as my heart starts beating in fear. I don't wait for long. I'd hate to have a panic attack in church. So I stand and walk out.

Without stopping outside, I head straight for the gate and then home. I've had enough for today. It was even more than I was prepared to take. I feel tears pricking the edges of my eyes when the loneliness and sadness fangs bite on my shattered heart. I hate that I am all alone in this fight. I wish Stella and Abigail weren't at school. They would make every day bearable without a doubt.

Even better, I wish Elias had stayed until my girls closed school. At least there wouldn't be a loophole that would threaten to drown me. Since he left, I've been trying to look for an escape or outlet for this damming emotional suffocation but I never find one.

The goats and Tatia do try to help but it would be better if our conversations were two-way. I'm sure they would have a lot to offer. I love Spasha and even if she makes my days easy, sometimes we don't talk meaningful things.

I want to have someone who understands me like Elias did. But it seems as if I only have myself. No matter. I'll just keep on pushing because as my K~Prince made me understand, there is no other way around it. Even Elias made me understand it.

At home, I opt to switch on the TV and watch some movies Elias got me before he left to keep me entertained on his behalf. I also mentally prepare myself for Mom's lecture later when she comes home from church. I suspect she'll scold me for leaving before the service was over.

A while later, Dad arrives home looking somewhat exhausted, his black leather jacket hanging on his back. He stands by the door and takes in the place just like he always does. Then his gaze lands on me. Unable to utter a word, I just stare at him. After everything, it has been difficult to easily talk to him as well.

"Already from church?" he asks.

"Not really. I left before the service was over," I respond, deciding not to lie to him.

"Uh, is that so?" he asks and I nod in response.

"So, how have you been?" he asks in a soft tone you'd think he cares.

He walks further into the living room and stands by the door to their bedroom.

"Holding up well," I respond.

This time I lie because I think he's just looking into making a conversation. In the real sense, I'm far from holding up well. I might as well say I'm slowly and agonisingly sinking. If it wasn't for the fierce goals I'm set on achieving, I would have sunk and drowned way long ago.

"Are you really?" he asks in concern surprising me.

I feel like crying. I blink severally to keep myself from letting the tears pool at the edges of my eyes. For the first time in what feels like a long time, I feel as if my dad is not as mad and disappointed at me as he was that awful day.

"No," I respond truthfully.

"I am a mess, Dad. I have..." I pause, unable to continue.

If I do I'll break down and I don't want to. That's because I am afraid I won't have a shoulder to cry on. Thus, I pull the big girl pants up and take in a deep breath for composure.

"But I'll get better with time. It is all just a matter of time," I tell him, trying to convince myself more than him.

"I know," he says in a soft tone. "Tamia, whatever you did was so wrong. It shocked me. I was hurt and disappointed as well because I expected nothing of that sort from you. But right now it is all done. All we can do is move on. You have to move on."

"But most importantly, you have to work on regaining your balance in your studies. They are what matters right now. I believe all is not lost. You still have a chance to change your life if you put in the effort," he adds with an advisory tone.

"I am doing it, Dad," I assure him.

It is comforting to know that despite their cold and sometimes silent treatment, they do care. I hope that as time goes by, our relationship will slowly grow to the best terms it used to be. Their trust in me as well. As if eavesdropping, a devil in my mind reminds me that with trust comes honesty.

I want to always be honest with them but if they'll never understand and accept my love for Joe, then I'm not sure I will always remain to be an honest daughter. I would love it if they took that burden away from me by embracing us. Else, I might end up getting torn between them.

"That's good. Keep at it," he says in an encouraging voice before entering their bedroom.

I smile. I'll keep at it. Now that he's in a good mood, I feel as if I can ask him for something I've been meaning to. An escape I know will not only help me academically but also both mentally and emotionally.

"I want to attend the holiday tuition programme in August," I start, hoping he has heard me. "It will help me to catch up in maths and chemistry. I'm requesting you to allow me to attend and also pay the fees for me."

There is a moment of silence that stretches as if he is thinking about it. While I await his response, I pray that it will be positive.

"Alright, then," he says and a tear flows down my cheek this time.

A joyful tear. Today has to be the best day I've had in a while. My dad has encouraged me. That too, without looking at me with anger and disappointment in his eyes. What's more, he has allowed me to attend tuition and accepted to pay the fees. I'm so grateful and happy. I'll make sure not to let him down this time around.

"But make sure you utilise that programme. Catch up on the topics the others have been learning. More so the form four topics you still hadn't covered," he adds.

"I will make sure to do just that. Thank you, Dad," I appreciate wholeheartedly.

At least amidst studying, I'll be surrounded by friends. The loneliness and sadness I feel will fade. So will the pain as well. At least for a while. I'll also not feel my anxiety clawing at me. I'll remember what life without feeling lost or fearful is because that is all I know now. I'll rediscover living.

"What grade did you set as your target or--?" he asks.

"B+," I immediately respond.

"That is a very good grade," he says in an impressed tone. "But I know you know that it is not easy to achieve it."

"I'm putting in all the effort," I reassure him.

I've vowed to myself. It is either a B+ or A- or A plain. Nothing less than that! And believe me, I'm going to get that B+ else, I don't know what will stop me from doing something reckless. That grade is my lifeline as Elias said.

"I trust you're still holding on to your dream of becoming a chemical mixer?" he asks and I smile an emotional smile.

"An analytical chemist?" I ask in correction.

"Yes, that one," he responds.

"Yes, I am," I respond positively.

He doesn't know that his interest to know about it just arose a fiery need in me to work towards achieving that goal more than I am doing right now.

"That is very good. Work on it without giving up," he urges me.

"I will, Dad," I promise him with a smile, even if he cannot see it.

One day, we will live that dream. Hopefully, together with Joe. I dream of the day our parents will be proud of us both. The day we will become one big happy family. One day...