BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 13 ||

My story is everything but sweet and beloved, it's so difficult to pinpoint the exact madness and unexpected events in a chronological timeline.

I speak of this life in a story.

In stories sometimes you're able to identify the aesthetic and inviting things like late nights in the dark with someone you love and viewing the sky dipped in tiny sparkles of shine. A kiss would've come up by now because that person confessed his hidden love. There's the less soppy love too, like little achievements that mean a big deal and gladly are rewarded for them.

You see them coming sometimes because they were predictable, foreseeable, obvious might I add, of all these definite and accurate outcomes. Mine's turned out to be a jumble of possibilities with a likelihood of being accidental.

When Beau arrived at the house, it was pretty unexpected.

Andre peeked over the edge of the sink with his back turned and Beau the same. Specific tools like the heavy wrench and screws laid out on the kitchen table where I eat breakfast, so I happened to be hesitant at sitting there.

He instructed Beau on the location of pipes and adjusted springs tacked onto the leaky thing but turned to see who the footsteps belonged to.

"Hey, 'Bo you're up and awake." He said with a warm smile and bragged on me, "Ebonee used to always wake up early when she stayed over in the summer. Always the first one up."

Beau's shoulders stiffened and a life second split in two as he looked up to nothing but a wall like he was seeing me when I wasn't there, just behind him. He said nothing and focused harder on the leaky faucet.

Andre left and realized Beau knew what he was doing within a room of two people and full unsettlement. I was back to studying again, well trying, putting my mind to the test and absorbing critical facts I probably won't need in the next twenty years. But I actually enjoyed biomedical tech class. The complexity of understanding medical jargon and other procedures were interesting but nothing like Beau.

"Can you pass me the wrench?"

My notes had nothing written on there about a wrench. I reread the information again in case I missed something about a wrench and a huh muffled out before I could find one sitting on the table.

"The wrench?" He repeated.

My hand skimmed over the collection of tools, looking for this instrument. My hand flinched back when Beau grabbed the back of my chair and reached over to retrieve the wrench for himself. His hands didn't look remotely soft but dipped in a black mess that coated his dark olive complexion. Beau's fingers were gritted with ivory grime and stains but still managed to leave a familiar comfort smell I wish I could name.

My heart banged beats at forte even though playing music wasn't my interest. The wrench wasn't far from reach and he left the familiarity as it became too much for us to bear.

_________________________________________

It was breathlessly hot on this God-given Earth, the heat was able to leave everyone gasping and panting for cool air. The fans were fully blasting to the maximum level, cooling each corner in every room. The rooms still held heat's capacity above but hadn't cooled anyone down. The weather always being mysterious and unusual.

I still fanned myself with one of Jewelz's chic magazines lying flimsy on the table. Everywhere I touched, my fingertips slipped upon the surface from my sweaty hands and my damp clothes clinged to the outskirts of my legs and stomach and armpits. The morning hasn't had a daybreak and a new day was starting with an ablaze.