High school: A cheesy love story

2

Initially I used to think that loadshedding froze time but I gradually came to the realisation that it only slows it down. I have a love-hate relationship with it. On one hand, it offers people a break. A moment to take a breather away from the fast paced life functioning on hyperventilation.

On the other hand we're stuck in traffic with a few street lights working. We landed at five pm but it's now ten pm and we're impatiently counting the minutes until the lights are back.

The power comes back and I realise that I liked it better earlier when there was a balanced contrast between artificial lights and natural darkness. The contrast between the dimly lit windows and dark ones had provided a beautiful aesthetic.

The clustered cars begin to gather some momentum. I look over at my mother and I'm surprised to find her with her eyes shut. You see she has a problem with sleeping and she only sleeps when she has taken a sleeping pill. I'm even starting to think that she's addicted.

She abruptly wakes up when the car stops outside of the estate. Sindi also happens to live here. To be more precise, we're neighbours and our houses are facing each other. It wasn't hard convincing my mother about the house and the school. She's much easier and malleable when she wants things to go her way.

My mother deals with the security guard whilst the driver helps with offloading our luggage. The rest of our things are going to come tomorrow, so for now it's sleeping bags and takeaways.

I tell my mother I'm not hungry but she still places my takeaway bag infront of me. We're watching a movie on my laptop since I'm also unable to sleep. I'm guessing it's because I miss our home.

***

Time has this bad habit of moving slowly when I'm in agonizing pain and knowing I have nothing to do, but let me plan out my day and the hours will fly past me like a fast car while sluggishly try to fit all of my activities into one day. An apparently tiny one day.

It's Sunday afternoon and we're not e even halfway through moving in. There was a four hour of loadshedding yesterday so the moving truck was delayed. There wasn't much for me to do so the hours were slow but the day was gone before we knew it.

"Ma!" I scream at the top of my lungs as I'm rummaging through the boxes.

"What is it!" Her voice echoes through the house from the kitchen.

"The paint! My paint isn't here!" I give up my search and sit on one of the boxes without caring to check if it's fragile or not.

"I must have forgotten to pack it! I'll put in an order!" Her tone is neutral. I can't believe how she's taking this lightly when she knows how important this is for me.

"Those are limited edition ma..." My voice almost breaks but I try to compose myself. "You don't just get them on sale from a retailer!"

She doesn't say anything.

"I'll just have to go and get them!" I shout but I don't think that I should be telling her this.

"No! I'll put in an order." She's in the doorway of what is supposed to be my room. "You haven't done anything in here."

She walks around the available space looking at everything including me with her critical eyes.

"I'm going to go and get them next weekend. I have paintings to finish." I add on as she's about to protest.

"Alone?" I want to believe that she's concerned about me but the past six years have taught me not to trust people, especially adults and parents. That doesn't mean I don't love her though, but it's always better to love people from a distance. That way you can minimise the pain or even avoid it entirely before it can consume you.

"Mimi?"

Her voice brings me back to earth from a place far away. I like being in my head, where faces are just blurry images and voices are just murmurs.

"I'm not a child anymore ma, I can go to Joburg and come back in one piece."

She used to call me Mimi when we were the best of friends. My fake dad is the one who came up with the nickname. He stopped using it when the truth came out. I became a random Michaela to him. I literally had to beg my mother to stop using it, making false promises that I'd stop calling Senzo my fake dad. The name took me back to a time I don't like remembering. A time when I lived in a bubble of lies. I find it hard to believe that I was truly happy and content.

How does the truth set one free? Is freedom equivalent to misery?

"Are  the paintings here Mimi?" She sits on the box with me.

"Please stop..." I roll my eyes.

"It's payback for yesterday." She chuckles.

"The paintings are here, thank goodness or else I would've gone back right at this moment." I point at them on the floor to show her.

"You know your dad can..."

"No." I abruptly cut her off. "I don't want anything from him. Real dad or not."

"Mi-chaela..." She corrects herself when I give her the death stare. "Your paintings are beautiful they deserve a showcase."

"You do not think my paintings are beautiful, you just want me to get to know my real dad and besides I'm a selfish artist. These are a sight for sore eyes in the morning." I tell her.

"Do you know how many people would die to have the connection you have. You're just going to waste away your privilege?" Her pathetic attempt is so... pathetic for lack of a much better word.

"Wouldn't that be a nice thing though?" I smile.

"What?"

"Giving those people a share of this bread and butter. Dad did that for his lap dog I'm sure he wouldn't mind putting on a few artists who deserve it."

"Great idea, you should pitch it to him." She says whilst getting up.

"It was your idea, I'm not a plagiarist." I purse my lips.

"So are you ready for school tomorrow?" She says. I know she no longer wants to talk about my real dad.

"My uniform hasn't arrived yet." I tell her.

"I'm sure it will arrive soon." She grins. I can tell she's trying to push back a painful memory.

"Sure." I dismiss her, it's not like she doesn't want to leave.

If my uniform doesn't arrive, I'm just going to have to borrow it from Sindi. I just hope it will fit on these curves.