Yellow waves

Slices of memory from my childhood flowing together in a story.

Waves washed over me as my mother shook me awake.

“Babygirl get up,” she whispered as she gentled her hands caressing the soft silk cap on my head, “it’s time to get up.” My mother shuffled out my room as I yawned the sleep out of me. I threw my coral covers away from my body and stared up at the frosted pearl sheet that were thrown across the bars of my canopy bed. My feet hit the cold tan tile as I got up and quickly made my bed.  I headed to the bathroom as my sister was exiting. Being the eldest, she always got first dibs. She patted my head and gave my chubby cheek a squeeze. I reached out and rubbed her growing belly. She smiled down at me. I wondered if it felt me, the person growing underneath her heart. I wondered if it knew I loved it. I loved it from the minute she told us.

I heard my sister yell from the backroom into the hallway, “everybody come here for a second. I got something to tell y’all.” I put my spoon back in my bowl on the table and walked down the freshly painted chestnut hallway. The twins were already there blocking the entrance into the room.

“What’s wrong with y’all? Let us through,” my oldest brother said from behind me. They parted and I made my way to the front of the pack. My oldest brother stayed in the back. My sister was standing in the middle of the room wringing her hands. The four of us stood there by the doorway. Waiting.

“Alright,” she took a deep breath and started smiling. Her radiance bounced off to me and my mouth kicked up into one as well. She looked down at me laughing. “Why do you look like you already know?” I shrugged my shoulders, mixing her laughter with my confusion. “Alright, Ma and Dad already know but I wanted to tell y’all.” She paused for a moment. “I’m pregnant!” The smile that was plastered on my face was now frozen. I looked back at my brothers and their faces matched my smile. My frozen state was thawed as laughter and cheers soon filled the room.  I turned back towards my sister and ran to her with arms open. I hugged her and hugged the being to be. I was going to be an auntie.

I stepped into the shower and the fresh clearness of the water encouraged any sleep that was left in me to leave. A sudden bang on the door startled me from it.

“Who’s in the bathroom?” a voice boomed from the other side. Before I could answer the deep voice I knew all too well yelled “hurry up! I got to go to work!” My dad’s footsteps creaked away as I turned the water off.

The calmness of the towel soothed my skin as I headed back to my room. The twins’ bedroom door was wide open as I passed on my journey. The controllers from the PlayStation were still hanging in their hands. They were playing all night. I knew. I knew everything. My mom always made me her little informant. She would tell me to go and spy on the boys. See what trouble they were up to. They always whispered. Making secrets they only knew. A language made up between the two. I never could decode the words. I would peek around corners and the whispers would stop.

“Go away, NOW!” I always ran away with the words chasing me.

My mom laid out my clothes on the top of my covers. They looked like they were floating out at sea. A creature in the distance, right at the back corner of my bed that looked suspiciously like a stuffed animal was creeping steadily towards the survivors. They needed to be rescued before the creature within the waves was to devour them alive. I snatched them from danger and put them on as quickly as I could. They would be safe with me. I looked down at the survivors that clothed me.

It was a dress that matched the sun. It hit just below my scraped knees but I couldn’t stop pulling it down further and further.  

            “Stop that! You’ll stretch it out!” my mom yelled from the doorway of my room. I turned around too fast and a barrette hit me straight in the eye. It held together a twist that my mother did last night for picture day today.

            She had told me, “it’s gonna look pretty shortcake. I promise,” while taming my hair into submission as I squirmed in pain. When she was done eight twists with colorful barrettes and bobos styled my hair. I had jumped up from my spot and ran to the hallway mirror. The barrettes and bobos bounced as I spun my head around and around. My oldest brother walked pass and tugged on a twist. I turned around, fist ready to retaliate, but he ran away laughing. I looked back into the mirror, twirling with a smile as big as a crescent moon plastered on my face.  But the moon set into the earth as soon as the waves washed me awake.

We rushed out the door as the clock ticked past the time we were supposed to leave. My pudgy brown hand untangled the twisted right strap of my pink Powerpuff Girls bookbag as our feet paced down the street. As we rounded the corner my stomach dropped down to my toes. I grasped my mom’s hand and held on tighter. I hated going to school. When we neared the school I heard the rumbling of sneakers on pavement. I couldn’t play that day. My white sandals that had three buckles on each side wouldn’t allow me to.

A high fence caged the children that were playing. It was rusted brown and touched the sky. It hit the ivory fluffiness of the clouds and I reached out to feel but my mother yanked me away with a glare. We came to the entrance and my third grade teacher, Ms. Greene, was there. She smiled at me. She had skin like mines and a curly frizz on top of her head. She always protected me in class like I was her daughter too.

I played with the golden star sticker next to my name tag that was taped to my desk. I didn’t look up as the boy with the dingy clothes and ugly mouth came to his seat next to mine.

“Fat a*s,” the boy said pushing my shoulder and almost shoving me out of my seat. He crept over me like a nightmare and the girls at my table laughed. He threw ‘fat’ around like he owned the word and always seemed to hate the sight of me. I glared at him and he shoved my shoulder again and pushed me completely out of my seat. I hopped up so fast surprising not only him, but myself as well. Anger boiled in my tummy as I pushed him with all the strength in my arms. He and his chair went crashing down with a loud bang.

“You two,” Ms. Greene suddenly appeared beside us. “Stop it right now!” she said sternly. She grabbed the arm of the boy and raised him from the floor. “I saw what you did. We keep our hands to ourselves. Now you’re going to sit at the teacher’s table today.” Ms. Greene pointed back to the table and chair that was placed right by her desk. Everybody knew that’s where the bad kids sat. The boy huffed as he picked up his book-bag from the floor and made his way over there. I sat back into my chair and a hand gently rubbed my shoulder. I looked up into kindness. She mouthed to me, you okay? I just nodded my head letting my anger drip from me and flood the floor.

“Good morning Jazmia,” Ms. Greene said, “you look so pretty today.” She reached out and touched a glittery barrette.

            “She’s all ready for picture day,” my mom told her with a smile. Ms. Greene looked down at me with joy in her eyes.

            “Well, you look beautiful.” The joy that filled her filled me too. I let go of my mother’s hand and reached for Ms. Greene’s. She grabbed it and squeezed. She smiled at my mother and I didn’t look back that time as we turned towards the double red doors of the school. It was at the edge of the pavement playground where the children screamed like the joy inside of me, where the buckles of my sandals clanked together with the excitement in my feet, where the waves died down and there was calm at the sea, and where I was the sun and the sun was me.

Reviews

[Octavia]

You can really write. That last line painted such lovely pictures in my mind. I also really loved the way you said the boy "used the word fat like he owned it". Great description.

I wasn't sure why there were italicized flash backs. If they were flashbacks... Not sure. I'm also not sure why I am reading this piece. What emotion were you trying to convey? Is this the beginning of a larger piece? I felt the motivation of the author was a little unclear. I read the description and perhaps explaining that the author is remembering? Or perhaps choosing a theme (these memories seem a little scattered. Not sure why you put them together.)

I do like how you began and ended with the waves/sea metaphor. That is well done and made nice book ends to the piece.

Over all I enjoyed reading this. Thanks for sharing!

I do like

[Emotional Marigolds]

Hi Octavia, thank you so much for reading my story. I understand about the flashbacks and the overall feeling as of why the reader should be reading this piece. I've gotten similar feedback like that. It was just supposed to be a memory that I expanded to sum up my childhood as a whole. How I viewed each of my family members, how I never enjoyed going to school because I was bullied, and how one of my favorite teachers helped me through it. But I am going to expand it. Thank you so much for your feedback. I truly appreciate it!