TIANA

Animated expressions lit my face upon listening attentively to my mother's story. After checking on the chicken in the oven, I leaned against the counter taking a sip of my wine nearly choking on my drink when my mother cursed. 

She giggled lightly," I'm telling you. Your father used to be so fucking crazy. . ." she paused grabbing the gold necklace he had given her and I watched on in awe as a fond smile spread across her face to add a level of youthfulness to her as she bit her lip recollecting that distant memory," as much as I complained about his jealousy, I loved it." 

"I still can't believe he did that," I mumbled chuckling lightly. 

"Well believe it, where do you think Tim's attitude when you started dating came from?" she joked lightly whilst I burst out laughing. Indeed Tim became the borderline definition of a psychopath when I started dating. 

It was a nightmare at the time but now. . . I missed it.

I missed a lot of things, but I forced myself to see what I still had. Due to what was ripped out of my arms, I grew more grateful of what I could do, appreciating every smile I wore, and each laugh that tumbled out of my body. And staring at my mother, the pent up stress I had been experiencing no longer attached itself to me.

"How's the case going?" she asked placing some items on the counter. 

"I'm pretty confident we'll win," I mumbled staring at the ground wondering if now was the best time to bring up the thoughts that had been racing in my mind.

"I love this time we get together, you know." 

"Same here."

And I meant it.

"With that being said," she responded staring at me," if you have anything on your mind . . . go on and tell me."

Crossing my arms I took a second to gather my scattered thoughts and feelings as I say," I'm fearful really of the future- I don't know," I muttered rubbing my hands across my arms that had goose bumps from the mild draft in the kitchen.

"Maybe I'm overthinking life in general but cases like hers have risen significantly and the very systems aiming to protect, create a perpetuating behaviour of only offending. Kind of makes you wonder," I tilted my head in thought, stumbling further into the core of where my anger and frustrations laid," how is it the world manages to advance in technology yet we fail to advance in how we view or treat people," I sighed feeling a bit light at having these thoughts removed off my chest.

"A true tragedy isn't it," she sadly replied shaking her head in disapproval. Her lips were set in a firm line that made me nervous at the drastic change from her earlier mood.

"It hurt me to leave the only place I knew. But what injured me most was how my own country that was beautifully emancipated was on a path of becoming the backbone in gold and diamonds," she swallowed hard past the glazed look she now had," only to have those resources greedily taken away. The place that walked ten steps forward was pushed a hundred steps back. Even when good is meant to follow- it just doesn't, sometimes that's how it is," she stated carefully looking me in the eye. "But it doesn't mean that's the way it should be. So do you know what you just do?" 

"What?" I whispered entranced by what she said as she grasped my chin tightly.

Bearing her brown orbs on me, a fire was burning behind them as she said in a deeper tone," Keep fighting."

***

Excitement begins to stir inside me as my eyes take in the food laid across our table; it had been a while since I had a home cooked meal. When it came to cooking I openly exercised the bone of laziness we were all equipped with.

The bubble I had already developed in my head imagining myself filling my plate with generous portions burst upon hearing some knocks at the door. Just as I'm about to stand up to answer it, my mother stopped me. Insisting she wanted to answer the door giving me an all too sweet smile that made me suspicious. 

That should have been my first clue.

Especially when unlike me, she didn't appear the least bit phased by who could be at our door at this time.

For some odd reason the sound of heavy footsteps entering into the dining-room had my heart beat tripling in speed and just a glimpse of his frame taking a seat across from me, made me stiffen way before his eyes fell upon me. 

What in the-

"I hope you don't mind but I decided to invite Luis over," my mother said clapping her hands as she retook her seat at the head of the table. No real word could've described how I felt in that moment; mouth suddenly dry, light drained, I was horrified taking notice of him reposing in Tim's old spot directly across from me. If only this table was not blocking my path to rip him from that seat, may be if I stretched far enough-

"Tiana?" I snapped my head in my mother's direction, her smile wide, eyes gaining my attention again," Please say grace." 

Glancing back in his direction, it amazed me how composed he was despite the glare I was giving him- he was comfortable, too comfortable for my liking. And I wondered what forces I upset to have him not only show up coincidentally at my work place but to wind up being a dinner guest in our home.

"Why don't you go ahead, ma?" I replied lowly, already on the edge of my seat. My mother's smile faltered slightly before she cleared her throat and grabbed our hands. He stretched his arm out towards me and just like the bakery I was ready to ignore it until I felt a sharp pang of pain shoot up my knee. Letting out a yelp, my head whipped in my mother's direction- my eyes accusing as she narrowed her own in turn daring me to respond.

Feeling like a berated child I reluctantly placed my hand in his larger one only to have it engulfed in warmth that shot up my arm. 

Mumbling a low 'amen' I snatched my hand out of his and discreetly reached below the table to wipe it against the fabric of my jeans. 

Dinner continued, the only sound being that of cutlery scraping against the silverware. Eyes down, I avoid the possibility of looking up too upset at having our family dinner ruined by him. 

"This chicken is absolutely delicious, Ruby," he groaned eliciting a giggle from my mother.

Cue the eye roll.

"I wish I could take the credit, Tiana was the one who prepared it," the mention of my name had me perking up to spare a glance in her direction to find a twinkle in her eye. 

He looked at me, nodding his head as he mumbled," This is very good, you should pass me the recipe," he took a bite of the chicken once more glancing in my direction eliciting an immediate scoff from me.

Out of the corner of my eye, a look of disapproval flashes across my mother's face before she schooled her features to that of a friendly smile to the unwanted guest," You cook, Luis?"

Once the question left her mouth he wiped his mouth with the napkin to give his full attention to my mother, “No, but from my experience I've always believed asking people for certain recipes to their food is a compliment in itself. I have a stack of recipes in a drawer from friends on how to make the perfect turducken yet my level of skill stretches to the degree of making two minute noodles," he joked filling the room with my mother's laugh. Even I could admit it was a bit funny but saying it caused the slightest influence for my lips to turn into a smile would be taking it too far. 

"My son was the same. Once he learnt how to make eggs he wasn't bothered to learn anything else," she answered whilst he nodded quietly. He shifted in his seat- and it may be a delusional part of me that was nit-picking, criticizing every detail of him, but from where I sat he appeared almost remorseful?

I scraped the thought away; he had no real reason to feel anything for us much less any feelings connected to penitence or compassion.

"What was he like?" he mumbled quietly.

I held my breath.

A simple question it may seem to anyone who never knew him, however, to those who knew him. Those who spent years on end in his company knew he was many things. Was made up of so many complex layers, and made up of peculiarities that made him beyond the colour black.

At this point the air had shifted whilst he idly picked at his food, his head still down, demeanour different to the one that had initially walked through the door,

She wasn't looking at him either, instead her eyes shone with something I was too hesitant to read knowing once I did tears would creep out to dance to the all too familiar rhythm of the pain we both knew. 

"To ever say he was sweet or even kind fails to capture just who he was. He had a way of viewing things that were mismatched through the eyes of someone who saw such things as all part of creating one magnificent story," she said using animated hand gestures, in an effort to fully express just how she felt and how much she wanted him to understand just who he was just from her words.

No words, could ever grasp just who he was.

None.

"Sounds to me like he could have made one great writer," he chuckled taking a sip of his water.

I want to smile but I can't.

"That was my brother," came out my voice earning everyone's eyes to land on me," he could build an entire world off of dots and commas on a page. But couldn't overcome the four bullets that were lodged into his body," I said, there was no mistaking the amount of discourtesy my voice proudly carried.

"Tiana," my mother warned, she reached out for my hand which I subtly shifted away. I knew she wanted to calm me down.

I was in no mood to be calm, the reason my mind hardly strayed to the details of his death was because the details of just what happened held enough power to ignite a fire in me that often lead to broken glasses lying on my apartment floor. 

"No mom!" I interrupted clenching my jaw when my eyes found his," I was behaved, but even I can't stomach the fact that we're breaking bread with one of them especially after everything!" I stood up abruptly ignoring the oddly neutral look on his face without bothering to spare a glance in my mother's direction.

Grabbing my coat I step outside and allow the cool air to roll down my body, whilst simultaneously allowing the tears to roll down my cheeks. 

It was hard to turn a cheek after receiving such a blow on the other, where I second guessed all that I was taught. We came here searching for a better life to only be handed an unbearably brutal hand. 

Rubbing my cheeks vigorously, the tears continuously fall making my attempts to wipe the moisture away useless. Frustrated I resort to whimpering, overwhelmed at the adrenalin that pumped through my veins. Moving tentatively down the steps, I clumsily took a seat on the last step, exhausted. 

Running nose, teary eyes I knew I was a mess only filling the air with the whimpers growing loud at the surge of pain that beat like a drum in my head forming an unbearable rhythm that had me rubbing my temples. 

I couldn't keep living like this.

There was no sign of life in the streets as my eyes move frantically over all that I see. Using the concrete wall to support my body weight, for a second I close my eyes feeling the breeze imagining Tim was here. That he was still with me in every step I made in this journey. 

Flashback

"The African is corrupt through and through," he dramatically states tossing his head back; I watched on amused at the odd statement. He glances in my direction," Do you know who said that?"

"Easy," I smirked," Chinua Achebe. He wrote that in 'No Longer at Ease'," I stated feeling proud at recalling the book our mother had given me and coerced me to read. I had been apprehensive about it since I wasn't much of a reader like Tim. However, that never deterred my mother from ensuring every once in a while I read some piece of literature, her excuse being," If you educate a man you educate an individual, but if you educate a woman you educate a nation," a statement I learned later on was said by Dr. Kwegyir-Aggrey. 

It was a quote that made me stop complaining and instead use that energy to willingly sit on my own to open a book. And start thinking beyond the pretty faces I saw on the television screens and think more deeply on the things around me.

He crossed his arms across his chest, showing equal approval at the fact I knew that. But knowing him, he'd never verbally praise me.

"I hate that statement. It really pissed me off in more ways than I knew. I mean even though we weren't born there like our parents- that place played a crucial part in making us who we are," I mumbled rubbing my arms to aid in offering some form of warmth when I felt a cold chill. 

"From the stories mom tells me, I can see the pain, heartache that outlined her past life there- though if you think about it," he paused taking a seat next to me, carefully wrapping his arm around me," from how she put it across, we only destroyed ourselves when the government began chasing those people off farms- the minute that happened things turned to shit."

"But Tim," I push away a little out of his embrace to look him in the eye," the government was only trying to return the land to its rightful owners. That land belonged to them before they were colonised."

"Be that as it may, little T," he chuckled once he saw my eyes roll at the childish nickname," I won't fault them for it. The aim was adequate and reasonable but the execution was where I have to criticize. We were forced out by them, mistreated by them- yes. . . But when there's evidence of hatred your solution isn't to return it with equal hatred," he stated staring me dead in the eye. 

"Please don't tell me you're suggesting we hold hands around the fire singing some kumbaya shit," I mocked playfully nudging his shoulder. In response he shrugged his shoulders staring ahead.

"Better than bloodshed, right?"

I smiled, staring ahead as well, taking in the street lights, the dark parts the light failed to reach.

He was right; as much as I hated to admit it he was right. But Tim was too young, and I was not even an idea when this all happened yet based off what our mother told us when we asked about her past, what we gathered was enough to cause small debates or discussions such as these to happen more frequently the older we got.

"In the end whether it took place in Africa, or any other part of the world, corruption is everywhere," I gestured to the empty streets," Drifting amongst us till one of us eventually decides to let it consume us. It could be one individual or a large group. And yet both hold enough power to ruin the vision or plans of the next generation," I finished laying my head on his shoulder. 

After that we both remained silent neither of us willing to ponder more on that statement and whether it was true or not. Our eyes were now stripped of the naivetés that came with youth to know that people looked at us with suspicion anytime we walked into a store.

Closing my eyes I take in more of his warmth, the silence soaking in between us until he started humming a slow tune. I bit my lip trying my hardest not to smile as the tune to Waterfalls filled my ears. At that point I secretly wished I could hop into a car to drive away from our problems.

To chase those fairy tales that played in my head, when wallpapers were lined with rainbows and possibilities.

Click.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I turn to find my unwanted guest taking tentative steps after he shut the door. Shaking my head, I return it back to its original position against the wall, furrowing my brows to return to those meaningful moments my brother and I shared.

"He should have been sitting at that table with you all, not me. I'm. . ." he pushed the loose tendrils of his hair from his face looking away briefly, failing to remain in one spot as he shifted awkwardly on my side. I kept my mouth shut, tightening my coat to keep warm, engrossed on the road a few metres away wondering where it ended or began until I felt a fabric being draped on my shoulders. Growing stiff I reach my hand out to be met with the fabric of his scarf, a distinct smell radiating off it into my nostrils that was oddly addictive, i was tempted to sniff it once more to burn the smell to memory. 

I found his eyes watching me, due to the lack of light I failed to make out much of his face. 

Without so much as another word he stuffed his hands into his pockets, turned and left. Leaving me where I sat to watch his retreating profile.