This side of me

Series of vignette
Writing 101 assignment, Day 13
Series of vignette

I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure….
– Marilyn Monroe.

Tears stung my eyes as Liz crossed the streets with her new boyfriend. We had just exchanged pleasantries. I sighed. I wanted her all to myself. The last time she was in a relationship, our friendship suffered.
The last time her heart for broken, I was the one there with a box of tissues and chocolate. I was ready to watch those cheesy films with her without complaining. Now she has moved on, on to another boyfriend. She has told me this one will be different, but that was what she told me about the last one.
Liz was my only friend. I pulled the hood over my face and with hands in my pockets I navigated my way home.
The sight of a coffee booth made me smile. It was a windy evening. I paid for a strong black coffee and downed it in successive gulps.

I make mistakes, I am out of control and hard to handle….
– Marilyn Monroe

“Where are you coming from?” My mother asked.
I glared at her and proceeded to my room. I was not going to answer to her or anyone.
“Did you suddenly become dumb?” She called after me.
I entered my room and shut the door with a bang.
I picked my iPhone, inserted my headset and raised its volume.
After a few hours, the house had a death silence over it. I crept out of my room and went to the kitchen made myself coffee with lots of cream and sugar.
I sat at the dinning table with my laptop opened.
I checked my mails, my Facebook messages, read some feeds and shut down the system.
I was still fully dressed in my jeans and hood and my cup was half empty
My mother came to join me.
“Can’t I be left in peace?”
“No,” she replied. “Especially when you return home acting like you are possessed. May I join you?” She asked gesturing at my cup.
“I made only one cup.”
She sighed.
“You know you can always tell me what it is.”
I smiled sadly and shook my head.
“Alright honey, tell me when you are ready to.” She left.

But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.
– Marilyn Monroe

The next evening was our girls night out.
I went to the usual joint. She had not called me or sent me an SMS since last night.
I looked around for awhile hoping she would honour our pact. I was expecting to see her but she never came. A guy came to talk but I played dumb. Ordered for margaritas and I took one shot after the other. I already gave up hopes of seeing her when she walked in with her new boyfriend.
Like seriously? How could she?
By the time she got to me rushing out apologies. My voice was slurred but I still told her how good I’ve been yet she treats me like a piece of shit. I stood from the stool and staggers forward. I held the bar for support. She made no move to help me, of course what I had told her must have shocked her.
I paid for my drinks and walked out of the place. My phone was ringing from my back pocket.
It was my mother. She got to me. Carried me home in her car and nursed me when we got home. She didn’t ask any questions.
The next morning while we were having coffee, I told her all that had happened. There was no judgement in her eyes only moist tears threatening to spill and acceptance. She hugged me and kept saying,
“Oh! My sweet baby.”
Never have I felt so happy. Happy and at home.


2 thoughts on “This side of me”

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