This morning, I awoke earlier than usual, my precious sleep interrupted by some unwelcome presence. I finally saw his face last night after enduring these strange dreams for months. I couldn't fathom why these recurring dreams plagued me like a broken record. If it were within my power, I would put an end to them.
I should be dreaming about my performances at the GMM Awards or BET, not about a mysterious figure I couldn't make heads or tails of. I wanted to share these dreams with my mother, or rather, my aunt, but I dreaded her overactive imagination and her penchant for romantic novels that seemed to cloud her judgment. If I dared to mention the dreams, she'd come up with some outlandish interpretation about soulmates.
The word "soulmate" left a bitter taste in my mouth, more bitter than vinegar. I refused to let these dreams ruin my day, as I never had before.
After my morning prayers, I got out of bed, my mantra of "God bless my day and guide me" echoing in my thoughts. A quick shower in the bathroom refreshed me, and I let my hair air-dry. Stepping out of the room and into the kitchen, I passed my mother, who was still sound asleep on the couch. She must have been exhausted after a long day's work.
I was famished, feeling like I could devour an entire house. Yesterday, I had been consumed by my various responsibilities, from searching for apartments online and viewing houses to practicing with my band, creating artwork for an upcoming audition, and working at the bar. It was a lot to juggle, but who was I to complain? I needed to find us a new apartment, as it pained me to return to our tiny one-bedroom space and see my mother sleeping on the couch. The image was a constant source of distress, motivating me to work harder.
Not having taken my medication the previous night, I had used forgetfulness as an excuse. In truth, I was trying to stretch the remaining medication, making it last as long as possible. Not taking it that night would buy me an extra two days' worth of supply.
I may have been working tirelessly, but I hoped that the money I saved for insurance would cover my treatment for the month and also contribute to my goal of buying a new house.
At the bar last night, I couldn't eat the food Laura had brought; it was all oily and unhealthy. My medical condition strictly prohibited such indulgence. This morning, I decided to prepare my favorite meal – Mexican Oatmeal. It was the only dish I had mastered in the kitchen. Cooking wasn't a skill I had prioritized; I had been too occupied with the demands of life.
As I hummed a tune that had been playing in my head since I woke up, I couldn't help but scribble it down in my notepad. I always carried notepads and paper with me, just in case inspiration struck, be it for a song or a drawing.
🎶 Can't get you out of my head
Seems like a thorn stuck in my gum
Can't put a finger on it
But this is driving me insane
It's is burning me so deep
I just can't get you out of my head 🎶
With breakfast ready, I served myself a portion with honey and banana, adhering to my mother's favorite slogan, "A healthy meal, a happy lifestyle." I enjoyed my food with a smile, resolute in ensuring nothing would sour my day. After eating, I washed the dishes and tidied up.
As I headed back to my room, my steps careful not to awaken my mother, I changed into a black ripped pair of jeans, black combat boots, and a sleeveless white top. I adorned my left ear with my favorite hoop earring that circled the lobe, and I braided my hair to the right, allowing the earring to take center stage.
In the living room, I was greeted by my mother, now awake. I had hoped to slip away quietly before she stirred, but it seemed luck was not on my side.
I greeted her in hushed tones as I retrieved my keys for my 1996 Toyota Corolla, parked outside. Passing by her, I made my way to the door, determined to leave without any confrontations that might ruin my day. I was eager to get started and make the most of the day.
But my mother had other plans, ones I had hoped we were past. She began her daily lament about my birthday, urging me to consider marriage and the need for a man in my life. It was a conversation I couldn't bear to have yet again.
"I am happy, Mother. It's my birthday, and I'm content with my life just the way it is. Please, I'm begging you, let's not go through this again."
But my mother persisted. "You need a man in your life, Chelsea. Someone to make you happy and help you. You need to settle down and get married."
"Please don't allow what happened affect you. I want the best for you. You need a man in your life. Someone to make you happy and help you. You need to settle down. You need to get marry" She continue pleading with her eyes and her voice.
It was an argument that had become all too familiar, and my patience was wearing thin. I'd had enough of these discussions.
"It's not about that. I don't dwell on the past or let the lives of others affect mine," I retorted, frustration seeping into my voice.
"Oh! Is that really so then why don't you prove it? Why don't you want to get marry? You need someone Chelsea!" She said getting up from her seat and walking over were I stood put water in my bottle.
"I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I owe no one an explanation. I'm not getting married to satisfy anyone's expectations. I'm not even in a relationship, have never been, and never will be. So please, drop this topic. You're wasting your time and your breath."
But my mother's determination seemed unwavering. She responded firmly, "If you can't find yourself a man, then I will. Every woman needs a man."
My temper flared, and I retorted sharply, "You wouldn't dare, Aunt Gabriella! Please don't push me. If you're so determined to find a man, then find one for yourself. After all, you claim every woman needs a man. But I don't need a man. I don't want to hear another word about it. I'm not going to let your desire for a husband interfere with my career. Help me along this path, don't hinder it. Please, I'm begging you."
My words might have gone too far, but they were fueled by a mixture of anger and frustration. Sometimes, we say and do things impulsively when our emotions are running high. It was a harsh reminder to myself to keep my emotions in check, as they could lead to unnecessary conflicts. But in this moment, can you blame me?