The bright light being switched on in my room causes me to open my eyes as I’m listening to“Wicked Games”by The Weekend. When the mattress dips I pull out my earphones, rolling over to see my mother sitting on the edge of my bed. I can’t fall asleep without listening to music. She must’ve just gotten home from her date with Michael. My mom and I live in a one-level two-bedroom, two-bathroom house. She looks radiant tonight, with her turquoise wrap-around dress and matching high heels; the outfit I helped her choose. The color goes well with the bright blonde curls around her face and blue eyes. My mom is thirty-eight but doesn’t look a day over thirty. She’s 5’9 with the figure of a model, with her tall, lean body, flawless golden skin, and pink lips. She has aged very gracefully.
My mom and Michael have been dating for a little over two years. My mom and dad had an epic love story, very similar to Romeo and Juliet. My future spouse and I must have the same kind of love, or we’re not meant to be together. Unfortunately, a love like that comes with dire consequences. My mom is white, and my dad was black. My mom’s parents hated my dad on sight and did everything in their power to separate them. How could their only daughter be interested in a black man?
My mom and dad met while attending college in Maryland, where my dad is originally from, so he showed her around the DMV. My parents were the perfect couple and the envy of all their friends. My dad was a tall man at 6’5 with dark chocolate skin and brown eyes. My mom was in her third year of college while my dad was in his last. Mom was majoring in history while Dad’s choice of study was criminal justice. According to my mom, it was love at first sight. When my grandparents found out about my dad, all hell broke loose. My grandparents threatened to cut my mom off financially and disown her, so they had to continue their romance in secret. My mom became pregnant during her fourth year of college. Even though my father was attending the LAPD police academy, they still saw each other every chance they got.
My mom was so afraid of what her parents would do when they found out. My parents traveled to Portland, Oregon together, where my mom is from, to tell them about the pregnancy in person. My grandmother demanded an abortion. The discussion became heated and my grandfather aimed a shotgun to my father’s chest. My father held his hand out to my mother for her to come with him. My grandmother told my mom that if she left she would be dead to her.
After my grandparents disowned my mother, she was left in financial strain. She didn’t have health insurance. My father was still attending the LAPD police academy, so it was difficult for him to support her financially. My mom had to drop out of college and move into a bedroom my father was renting in a boarding house. They were married by the Justice of the Peace a few months later, just before my father graduated from the academy.
Once he graduated from the academy, he was able to obtain health insurance for my mother. After I was born, my mother enrolled me in daycare to finish her degree, being financially supported by my father. When my mother graduated from college, she became a middle school history teacher. It saddened my mother that my grandparents didn’t want to be a part of our lives. Her every attempt to reach out to them was ignored. It never bothered me, because I received the love and recognition from my dad’s side of the family. I never felt unloved. Though my father’s parents live in Maryland, I saw them on holidays, spring, and summer breaks. They spoiled me and treated me like a princess every time I visited – they still do.
I was in a loving home, my life like a fairy tale, when suddenly tragedy struck, destroying me and my mom’s world. I will never forget that night. It haunts me to this day. I was ten years old. I was in the kitchen helping my mom cook dinner when we heard the doorbell.
“Honey, keep stirring the pasta or it will stick to the pot,” my mom said as she left the kitchen to answer the door.
“Okay, Mommy.”
As I stirred the pasta, I heard a blood-curdling scream from the living room. I jumped, causing some of the hot water to splash onto my skin, scorching it. I dropped the spoon and raced to the living room. My mom was on the floor, crying like her life as she knew it was over. Rob, my dad’s partner, was kneeling beside her, trying unsuccessfully to console her while the other police officer walked towards me. Though Uncle Rob and my father weren’t brothers, they had a strong bond and had known each other since their academy days.
“Mommy, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer me. I don’t even think she heard me.
“Uncle Rob, what’s wrong with Mommy?”
I was so afraid because I didn’t understand what was going on.
“Pam,” Uncle Rob said to the other police officer. “Take Cocoa upstairs, I’ll be up soon.”
“No, what’s wrong with Mommy? I don’t want to go upstairs.”
“Come on sweetheart, I’d like to see your room.”
That night, I was in my room for a long while before Uncle Rob came to tell me the words that destroyed the little girl I was. My father had been killed in the line of duty by an armed thief. After that, things were never the same again. My grandparents attempted to come around after the untimely death of my father under false pretenses. They completely ignored me. Their true motives were eventually revealed. They wanted my mother to leave me with my father’s mother and come back to Portland, Oregon with them. My father hadn’t been dead two months before my grandparents attempted to parade my mother in front of white suitors.
My mom told them to leave and to never return. That was seven years ago, the last time I ever saw my grandparents. After my father died happiness and laughter no longer existed in our household. A part of my mother died with my father. My mom had no one after my father died. She became a shell of her former self. On countless nights, I would hear my mom crying in her room. Therapy didn’t help. The only thing that could help my mom was time. As the years passed, the light flickered on in her eyes, happiness and laughter returned to our lives, but we both still miss my father very much.
My mom and Michael met at a week-long Teacher’s Convention two summers ago. My mom arrived home happy and excited that day.
I was sitting at the kitchen table, completing my homework and eating a snack, when my mom bustled through the door with a wide smile on her face.
She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me.
“You seem very happy today,” I said.
She looked away, nervous and ashamed. “I met a man today.”
“At the convention?”
My mom nodded as she watched me. She had a petrified look on her face. She thought I was going to judge her because of my father, but I’ve always wanted my mom to go out and date. She deserved to be happy.
“That’s wonderful, Mom.”
“Really? You’re not mad?”
“Mom, I’ve always wanted you to find someone who would make you happy. The only person stopping you was yourself. You are not betraying Dad by moving on with your life. He would want you to be happy.”
My mom sat in the chair beside me to lean over to give me a tight hug, and a kiss on the cheek.
