7

The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.

~Dolly Parton

Absolutely no words could explain the joy I felt when the Uber drove out of my grandparent’s yard. The weekend felt like eternity in hell, especially with all the demeaning comments they made about me and how my father was always a topic of discussion during every meal.

“I’ll call you when we land.” My mother spoke into the phone.

She had been talking on phone since we got into the Uber, by the attitude she was showing towards me I could tell she was angry at me.

“Mum we’re here.” I told her when the car parked.

“I have eyes, I can see that.” She responded in a sharp tone.

Sighing I got out of the car and grabbed my bags. We did all the necessary procedures before boarding the plane and just like always she sat 4 rows away from me, I should have been happy about that but the thought that my mother didn’t even care to see if I was alright after the I had a flare up yesterday.

At the age of 5 I was diagnosed with Systemic Lupus Erythematosus and that changed mine and my parent’s life, their relationship was not perfect but after my illness everything spiraled, they began arguing more often, it was so bad we barely made it through a meal without them fighting. My grandparents blamed my father for my illness and my mother for ruining her life by having me and getting married to my father.

I closed my eyes and tried to get comfortable in the seat that somehow was very uncomfortable especially with my head aching, the pain in my chest and shortness of breath that were not helping, my condition had improved from last night but they weren’t gone completely and that frustrated me.

When the plane landed, Albert grabbed our bags and took us home. The second the car came to a halt in the driveway I got out and went to my room locking the door behind me.  I wanted to get away from my mother and just be on my own, I knew she hated me and being around her family over the weekend was a reminder of how I had ruined her life.

‘Breathe Lyra breathe.’ I whispered to myself.  

Doing the breathing exercise I pulled myself together and went to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes I looked at my body in the full length mirror to see if my rash had gotten worse after walking in the sun. With a sigh I stepped into the shower and turned on the tap letting the cold water run down my body and reducing the burning sensation on my skin.

Getting out of the shower I dried my body quickly and applied the cream my doctor had recommended to ease the rush. Monday was a day away and I was praying it would have reduce or better yet cleared by then, I didn’t want anybody knowing about my condition. After changing into light but comfortable clothes I took my medication and fell asleep.

“Lyra get up.” My mother’s voice filled with annoyance reached my ears pulling me out of my sleepy state.

She tapped my shoulder causing me to groan.

“Mum that hurts.” I frowned sitting up. She didn’t use a lot of force to tap my shoulder but the rush on my body stung at any slightest contact to it.

“You took your medication without having anything.” She scolded ignoring my statement. “You know better than to do that.”

“I was tired.” I shrugged.

“We all were tired, it’s been a long weekend that of course was short lived because of you.” She pointed out.

“It’s not my fault I got sick.” I mumbled under my breath.

“It’s not mine either so I shouldn’t always be on your neck forcing you to eat and take all the necessary precautions.” She snarled. “I’m not the one that is likely to worsen her condition or better yet die because of carelessness.”

Being reminded that I might die made my heart skip a beat, yes the doctor said that my condition wasn’t too serious and might not lead to death unless otherwise but my mother couldn’t help but bring it up every time.

Sighing I got up and walked to the dining room, I was never allowed to bring food to my room, not even when I was sick. My mother had strict rules that caused a lot of arguments between her and my father when they were still together. The only place anyone was allowed to eat from was either the kitchen or dining room, I got punished anytime I was found.

Our food was served and I tried her to force the food down my sore throat, it stung badly and my loss of appetite was not make things easier.

“How many times should I tell you playing with your food is a bad habit?” My mother who was seated on the opposite side of the table glared at my.

“My throat is sore, I’m having difficulties swallowing the food.” I responded in a hushed tone.

“And why are you only saying this now, Samoan put a lot of time and energy in preparing this and you want it to go to waste.” She snapped. “For someone who stayed 9 months in my womb you sure did inherit more from him.”

“I’m sorry.” I sighed.

“Samoan.” My mother called our personal chef and she came quickly. “Make her something lighter to eat, she has a sore throat.”

Sighing I pushed the plate of mashed potatoes, steak and mixed vegetables to the side and waited for what Samoan was going to prepare for me. My mother continued with her meal and I stared at her contemplating whether I should ask her the question that had been eating me up for years now.

“Mum.” I called.

“What?” She looked up from her plate.

“Never mind.” I shook my head not wanting to make her yell at me.

“Lyra say what you have to say.”

“I had a question.” I started after drawing a deep breath and gathering enough energy to ask.

“Go on.” She encouraged.

“Has dad reached out yet?” I asked in one breath.

She set her fork down and stared me dead in the eyes, a mix of rage and another emotion I could not pinpoint flashed through them.

“Why don’t you call him, he’s your father after all not mine.” She spat bitterly. “What, you miss him huh?”

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked.” I moved my gaze from her to my fingers that were fumbling with my shirt under the table.

“But you did.” She threw her napkin on the table. “If you miss him so much you should go and live with him instead of asking me useless questions.”

“You not only ruined my weekend but my meal too.” She got up. “Congratulations, just like your father you reign at ruining everything for me.” With that she walked out room.

I stared at her retreating figure and frowned feeling angry at myself, I knew my mother hated talking about my father and as if she hadn’t endured enough torture from her family the entire weekend my big mouth just had to make things worse by bringing him up again. 

“Your soup.” Samoan announced as she walked into the room and placed a bowl of hot chicken soup before me.

“Thank you.” My lips tugged into a small smile of gratitude and she nodded in response.

Looking at my mother’s half empty plate I sighed and focused on my food, I was not hungry but like my doctor always said, if I wanted to heal quicker I needed to eat a lot.

Emptying the content in the bowl, I got up, cleared the table and took my medication before going to my room, it was almost 9pm so I took a quick shower and went to bed.