"Mama won't let me return to him, I know this, but my heart hurts without him near please make her understand." I pleaded as the lump in my throat began to build,
"I can try but I cannot promise," Papa told me and I could feel my tears begin to stain his coat,
I was so tired and so frustrated of always being at war with her, I don't want to have to choose between my future and him and her, and in the midst of it lose my mother. It was the worst feeling in the world and I was surprised that he was being so understanding because that's all I'd needed this entire time, for someone to understand.
I just want to be free to be with him and know him as a person and allow him to know me without mama breathing down my neck. I want the chance to make up for all the things I never experienced cooped up in this house as a teenager, I want to be young and just fucking live.
"I'll talk to her." He assured me by stroking my hair, "Nataka tu uwe na furaha, does he make you happy?."I just want you to be happy.
All I can do is nod because I think he does. It's hard to explain but he really does.
"Don't waste your tears," Papa said.
That night after dinner Jaadi and I were going through old photo albums in the living room. It was an odd feeling looking at pictures from your childhood. It was like looking at this version of you that knew so very little of what was to come and sometimes it all felt like it never really happened.
Jaadi began to look through my camera as I showed him photos I'd taken of France and he seemed mesmerised by it even through a screen. Such is the true magic of the city of love, the ability to take you on a journey while staying exactly where you were. He paused all of sudden and I turned to look at him,
"What is it?" I asked and he turned the camera view to face me,
"Who is he?" Jaadi asked as a picture of River and I that I basically had to force him to take with me on the Eiffel Tower popped up, and I was immediately taken back to that moment when I knew so little once again. I smiled at the memory and took the camera gently out of his hands,
"A friend." Is all I could think to say but Jaadi paused once again,
"He looks at you the way papa looks at mama sometimes when he thinks she's not paying attention." Jaadi commented,
"You're seeing things." I shrugged turning off the camera,
"Like if he looks long enough she'll disappear," Jaadi added dramatically then made a way gesture with his hands "Poof!"
I smiled shyly at his observation and a part of me wanted to believe it was true, but I would know, wouldn't I? If he did.
Just as I was getting ready for bed I checked my computer once more and found one last email from River that made my heart ache more than anything I'd ever felt before, and I happened to think it was the most heartwarming thing anyone had ever said to me.
TO:Armani Nnandi
FROM: River Kennedy
SUBJECT: Reminder
You’ll come back to me I know you will.
Because Paris isn’t Paris without you.
Chapter 20
The Blue Train
ITWASThanksgivingnightand I was seated at the table listening to my family's passionate discussion on thanksgiving. About how it was cruel to celebrate the mass genocide of the Natives of the land and for the first time I could actually agree with my family. The second we moved to Florida mama and papa had made it clear that we would not be partaking in the holiday and that it was not ours to celebrate. I was just digging into the nyama choma and ugali mama and aunty Gertrude had made when I heard the doorbell ring.
"I'll get it," I announced, getting up from the table and heading to the front door.
And there stood a mailman with a package in hand. I graciously took the package from him and signed for it, still having no idea what was in the box. It had a note on it labelled,For Jaadiand I took it up to his room for him so he could open it after dinner. I headed back to the dinner table and was bombarded with a bunch of questions about who was at the door and what was in the package.
"I don't know, it only said that it was for Jaadi, I'm sure it's probably from aunty Fatima," I assured them and started to eat again.
"Xolani, why would you allow your only daughter to pursue such a fleeting career?" My uncle Omani asked and I sighed in defeat knowing the exact same conversation I'd been hearing all thanksgiving weekend would erupt once more.
"I wondered the same thing at first and if it were not for Adamu's persistence she would've never pursued it at my hand," Mama replied taking a sip from her wine glass and gesturing to Papa,
