Searching for Love, Found Wealth

“Mom, she has arrived now, she’s here” I screamed and helped her take her suitcases to my room, they should be there for the mean time.

Now, I was seeing her for real, she was more prettier and had dark curly hair like other blacks though her skin was almost ‘pastel-carton-brown’ – if there was any color like that.

I hoped our relationship would be better.

She didn’t speak to me and didn’t speak to her. I hoped up on my bed and continued viewing my jokes.

She just stood there in my room, like a robot, clinging to her little teddy. “What’s your name?” I finally decided to break the silence.

She had her cold look through she answered “My name is Gladys James. Nice to meet you”.

She was playing formal so I didn’t bother ask more. “You don’t like me, right?” she asked all of a sudden. I looked at her.

“My dad broke up with my mom because she’s a white. He said he’d take me away to a family who isn’t so friendly with whites either. You don’t like me because I’m white, right?”.

Now she sounded like she’s cry. I wanted to talk but I didn’t.

I felt disgusted for a bit. Dad said we weren’t friendly with whites? How could he conclude? He really got his facts wrong because he was the one being racial.

He left my mom for a white woman. Also, how then did he hate whites all of a sudden?.

“I don’t hate you and you are a mixed, black and white, not fully white, okay?” I corrected.

I would also feel better to know she was a bit of a black. Somewhere in me, whether it’s a racial thought or not, but I’d prefer living under the same roof with a black rather than a white.

The latter has lots of troubles. She frowned slightly, “I’m nothing of your inferior race” she replied sternly.

I guess my ears failed me so my eyebrows cocked. “I’m fully a white” she repeated.

That point, my mom came in with a cake. “To welcome your new arrival, dear” she said cheerfully.

Gladys’ countenance changed as she smiled and they two strolled to the living room leaving me in my room. Immediately dashed out behind them. That girl had called me “inferior” but they heard her right.

What a hypocrite, she was now smiling and thanking my mom. Isn’t my mom part of the ‘inferior race’?

Disgust-mixed-with-anger filled my face, I wanted to make an outburst but decided not to.

She wasn’t worth my time, just a silly little seven-year-old. She was indeed a brat being such a racist at a young age.

Also, if she really thinks so then half of her is also inferior. To think I once pitied her. Her mother abandoning her to her father cos she was impossible to live with.

I gasped as I went back to my room.

“Dear, won’t you stay for some cake?” my mom used her eyes to tell me to stay. I didn’t care, the kid was really like my dad – ungrateful. I wished she would disappear elsewhere. I stomped off to my room angrily.

My mom didn’t come up to talk to me neither did she call me down for dinner. I came down later by evening. My mom, strangely, didn’t make dinner so I thought of strolling a bit.

Downstairs, I saw Gladys playing games with mom’s phone. Mom hardly left her phone at home.

“Your mom said I should tell you that she went shopping for me” she said non-chalantly.

What was mom shopping for again? Did my father give her his credit card? I gazed at Gladys, at that point she was about deleting my highest score in Tetris.

“Hey” I yanked the phone from her.

“What is your problem?” she shouted. I felt the urge to slap her but I didn’t. I was really doing a great job in controlling my anger.

“What is it? Since you can’t play the game with the high score there, find something else to do?” and I cat walked out of the house.

I stopped by an ice cream shop. “One vanilla please” I handed the seller some money, he knew the type I liked.

A little boy came leaping by, he stopped by the ice-cream shop. His face was swollen. He was dark-skinned but had some white spots on his body.

The ice-cream seller exclaimed in surprise and ushered the boy into his shop. “It happened again” the boy muttered and cried louder.

The seller handed me my ice-cream and change and began calming the boy. I stood there for minutes, they didn’t notice.

The boy said something to the seller and another outburst again. The seller had made an attempt to give him an ice cream when he noticed me.

“Any problem, young miss?” he sounded polite. I had a huge hunch that the child was a victim of abuse. Sexual abuse.

He walked with pains and he looked slightly sick. “What’s wrong with sir?” I was surprised by my own voice. It seemed shaky. The boy looked at the seller and I noticed the eye contact, the boy wanted to keep the culprit secret. Maybe it was a family member.

“Just a bad day, miss. I’ll handle it” the seller faked a smile.

I nodded and left. A short prayer was sent to the little boy. I was specially moved by the white man’s kindness to the black child.

Some whites were still humane. It wasn’t new family members abusing relatives but it wasn’t air still.

I remembered the little girl at home, she was also being abused emotionally by her parents. Father abandonment, mother’s rejection.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Also her mother must have been the one to make her think blacks were inferior. I went back to the ice-cream man.

“I’ll be better sir, thanks” the boy was leaving. He looked down when he saw me and walked away. He should really be better.

“One more vanilla, sir” I ordered. I should get something for Gladys too.