Chapter 4

Happier than ever - Billie Eilish Finishing secondary school was the highlight of my teenage life. Not just because I was done wearing uniform, but because I thought I would finally be free. My decision was to apply for a university that's far from home and live on my own. I decided that was the only decision that could help me finally feel freedom, meet someone, love and breathe. My mother however had other plans. She insisted on me studying in the university close to us. So I go and come back home. The first bold step I did was to walk over to my father and plead. I remember gulping and hiding my fear as I watched him sit on his couch. He noticed me and asked in an indifferent tone "What is wrong? I mustered up the courage and walked to him. Sat by the foot of the chair and in an almost inaudible voice said "Daddy I don't want to school here" My father was quiet for some time and then he said "Why not? I couldn't talk and I couldn't lie either. I couldn't tell him it's because of them, him and my mom. It's because of the toxic life they're living. "I want to be...independent" I chose my words carefully, slowly afraid that I would trigger him. He considered me for some time without looking and then said "If you want independence, get married. Your mother wants you to school here and be close to her" I remember the hatred and rage that boiled through my veins. How did my mother get the nerves to say that? Be close to her? Since when did we manifest being close? This is a woman who is nothing less than a stranger to me and she wants us to be close? "Daddy please. I really need to meet new people and socialize" "You are going to school here Ammara and that's it" The voice of my mother came behind me and I took a deep breath to regulate mg breathing. I raised my eyes to see my father has turned his attention to the TV and my mother was arranging the dining table. Knowing that was their way of dismissing me, I stood up and quietly walked out of the living room. I have never felt this much anger towards her. Not even when I started my period and got no attention from her. My friends helped and taught me everything I needed to know. I remember laying on my bedroom floor as my stomach clenched and I felt myself dripping. I cried and called her. Fifteen calls that went unanswered. I was scared at the blood and pained from the ache. Most of all I was hurt, hurt when I had to stretch to my bed and call my friend because my own mother wasn't there. Hours later she came home and claimed to be in a meeting when I was calling. She asked me if it was important. A mother asked her child hours later if the fifteen missed calls the child she left alone at home did was important. I wanted to scream and scratch at her make up coated face. Instead I shook my head coldly and turned away from her. Each step she took out of my room felt like thousands of needles prickling my skin. That was the day I lost any hope in establishing a relationship with her. ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ I got enrolled into a private university, met a couple of friends whom we started doing things together. We go to class together, sit together, eat together and even hung out together. Life was pretty much mundane for me but it was good. There was nothing out of the ordinary and I like that. I liked my days of normality. On a sunny day, my mom came home with a huge smile on. She looked at me sitting on the couch watching the TV and said "I'm happy. You should be too" As if only her happiness validate mine, as if she is the reason I should be happy. I kept quiet and stared at her as we maintain eye contact for some minutes before I tore my gaze off. I wasn't happy that she was happy. Worst of it all? I didn't care to know what made her happy. Days later, her friends came over. She gave me a call to come and greet them. Walking down the stairs felt like torture, it always does. I have to go greet them respectfully while my mother tries her best to claim to "know me" answering questions like my age, my level, my hobby. As if she knows me, as if she dares to explore me. That day wasn't different. I walked down the stairs, straight to her and her friends and squatted to greet them. They returned the greetings, asked questions before I was dismissed. Right on my way out, I heard them discussing. "No I think the other event planner should be better. She can get a bigger hall even" "Yes. This has to be perfect! It should be the greatest event Kano has seen" "It should be the trend of the year" At that point I realized my mother and her friends are planning on an event. An event to boost their image and uphold their social status. It amazes me how some people think teenagers of this era are so fixated on their phones and on social media that this generation is experiencing phone addiction. Has any of them ever met older women who neglect their responsibilities for social media? My mom and her friends are the most addictive to social media ever since it came into existence years back. Social media added fuel to the fire already burning in my home. Because if then my mom neglects me, now she only acknowledged me for the eyes of others. Everything they do, everywhere they go, everything they eat, everyone they meet is dictated by social media. In a case where I keep a very low profile, my mom was an influencer. It would have been good, had it been she wasn't acknowledging her thousands of followers more than me. It would have been good, had it been she doesn't know strangers better than her own child. ^*^*^*^*^*^*^ The house help, Rahma was getting ready to go to the market. I was seated on the kitchen island and eating the food she just finished preparing. I was done with my assignments, went over my notes and had nothing to do. The book I started hours back is now neatly kept on my shelf. "I am bored" I voiced out my thoughts to Rahma as I finish off the last of my rice. "Watch a movie" "Tired! I exclaimed "Read a book" "Not now" "Go on Instagram" "Tired! She sighed and put on her hijab "what do you want to do then" I would like to believe that moment was the game changer, that single moment was when everything changed. Years later, I looked back to other days but this was the first step. "I'll follow you to the market" I said with a grin "No! Rahma said abruptly "You know the last time mummy caught us wasn't good" "Do you know why she doesn't want me to go out? I asked innocently "Yes. There are many people in the market, so much shuffling" I snorted "As if she cares. I'm coming" I stood up and walked to the basin Rahma held my hands "Please Ammara. Just stay at home" "She won't know" Rahma shook her head "Please Rahma. This would be my third visit and then no more" She seem to hesitate a bit but nodded anyways. I smiled and rushed up the stairs to grab my hijab. Minutes later, I came down and we walked out to the car. Mallam Bilya started the car and we drove off to the market. I've been to the market a couple of times. And when I say a couple of times, I mean twice. The last time we came home late and met my mom about to walk into the house. She was furious and went on ranting about how none of her friend's kids go to the market. Of course she told Rahma to never go with me because the market is stuffed and unhealthy but I knew better. She wants to also claim that her daughter never goes to the market like her friends. Sometimes, the things and decisions my mom arrives at bewilders me. I always wished on how things would be if I wasn't alone. Maybe if I had sisters or brothers things could change. The attention will be off me sometimes. Maybe then I won't have to deal with the terms she set on. Maybe then I could run away to a world where I have a normal family and a normal life. Maybe, maybe, maybe.