BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 2 ||

Mornings were never my favorite.

The getting up part was hard, especially with the unlimited amount of sleep deprivation I encountered on a daily basis.

If I could wake up in the morning like televised Ad commercials, the large sun rolling passed the window and the "hop out of bed, the new day has started" smile, my life would be a lot happier and less complex.

Jogging downstairs with my bag, I passed by the kitchen counter and spot a small uncrinkled booklet.

Mom was a stickler about objects not being in the appropriate spot so this was a first to see her passport lying on the table where we eat our food.

Her eyes bored back at the camera, waiting for a miracle to happen behind the lens and flash as her mouth that drew a straight line in the identification  photo. Her wavy hair was the only lively picturesque physique that fit the image perfectly against her smooth chocolate skin. Her name, "Aubrey" typed in black stubby letters along with her other information and identity.

She was a delinquent on a pretty print card.

Heels clicked behind me and chattering carried on with her voice.

"I know, I know, I promise it will get done in time. Yes," she whined, "I need you to stay positive for God's sake Sheilah. Right, bye."

The telephone rang repeatedly and it only took one glance for Mom to stare at the caller I.D. and not pick it up.

She grabbed her other expensive money purse, the edgy brand no one could pronounce unless someone told you out loud and snatched up the passport out of my sight.

"It's your father again. Tell him no one is home in the mornings. He always picks the time we leave."

The phone was beginning to irritate me, the constant ringing and temporary pauses left my nerves shaking.

"Mom, where are you going?" I asked, tuning out the ringing. Tuning out the shaken nerves in my body.

I referred to the crisp passport she tucked neatly on the side pocket of her purse.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Was I finally going somewhere? Am I finally going on a trip away from here? Overseas? Anywhere where no one recognizes my face or features or knows my name?

"But don't get too excited," she added, her thoughts telepathically reading mine without gesturing to my nostalgic face, "I won't be gone for too long, so don't celebrate too much when I leave."

I spaced out after that, too many I's within her sentences made it sound like a trip she was only acquiring for herself with one suitcase and one passport and I was completely excluded. Disappointment settled in quickly, as I realized I won't be able to see sunshine and happiness at any moment and kiss the sparkling sand with welcoming lips and swim in the shallow water in the abyss.

Her steps faded out of our conversation and the ringing still wanted to be noticed and make noise.

"Tell your father to call at a better time." she announced irritably, the second time was more demand.

It was too easy for her to say. She never intended on picking the phone up anyway. Mom never wanted to pick up the phone for Dad though, so filthy lies to him left an excessive amount of hope every time he dialed our number and called.

My parents were divorced and financial or affair conflicts didn't contribute to their legal long-term break up.

The simplicity of it all diminished to one clear factor that may seem both unrealistic and unpragmatic in her relationship world.