HEDGED
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Episode 12
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I’d only noticed that Tricia had abruptly stopped speaking.
I lifted my head to ask the obvious question when my gaze met Mama’s blazing eyes.
Our stare stayed for a few moments longer before I resumed p******g my pepper.
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It was already time to add the pepper to the pot of soup. Tricia’s gist had me squandering more time than I should have, and Mama’s presence was not speeding up the beating.
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I could already see what was coming.
I could easily picture what Tricia was thinking at the time.
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I couldn’t help but wonder what Mama’s first words to either of us would be.
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Mama was either too taken aback by the sight of me in that posture, and as a result, the process of “comprehending and then verbalizing” was taking longer than normal, which would explain her odd quiet.
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Mama said nothing to any of us. She didn’t have to. Her demeanor screamed her dissatisfaction at seeing me in that position, as loudly as it could have been stated nonverbally.
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Mama had been standing for quite some time now, still silent. She was simply staring. Knowing my mother very well, this was already an awkward situation.
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I was already as unsettled as I could have been, and I could see Tricia was equally unsettled by Mama’s presence and even more so by her silence.
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I needed to say something—anything—to break the uneasy silence. As a result, I did. But the worst happened just as I was ready to raise my head and open my mouth to ask if Mama needed anything.
I hit the mortar with the pestle a little harder than I should have. My face was quite near it. Unfortunately, this resulted in a splash and a substantial amount of pepper getting into my eyes.
I was temporarily blinded, squirming, and screaming in pain.
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To everyone’s surprise, I was yelling, “MY EYES! MY EYES!”
Mama and Tricia scurried towards me, perplexed.
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“Baby, sorry; take this and wash your face with it.” Tricia said, guiding my hand to a bowl of water she’d swiftly retrieved for me.
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I scrambled about for it like a headless bird.
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Due to my excitement, it took me quite some time to fully identify the bowl or determine which portion of it I needed to hold.
With my eyes still tightly clenched and terribly burning, I gradually worked it out.
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I grabbed the bowl of water, and I instinctively went to get it and wash my face with as much water as I could scoop when Mama slapped my hand off of it.
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Mama’s action enraged me because I was still “blind” and in desperate need of a quick solution to my problem. But before I could express my unhappiness, Mama substituted that “possible alternative” with something that struck me as odd.
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Mama told me to open my mouth as wide as possible.
I did.
Then I tasted it.
SALT! Much of it was forced into my mouth and down my throat.
I tried to spit out this substance I was being forced to swallow in an unprecedented manner, but Mama chastised me.
“GREG, LICK IT! It will quickly lessen the burn.” Mama commanded in a booming voice.
Mama’s tone of voice lacked any hint of compassion. It was almost as though she was anticipating this. She didn’t feel sorry for me. If she was, she didn’t appear or sound like it.
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When I followed Mama’s recommendations, my eyes began to burn less.
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It took some time for my vision to return to normal, but it did, leaving Tricia to finish the cooking on her own.
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Tricia left with Priscilla later that evening, leaving Mama and me alone.
This was an opportunity for discussion.
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I knew Mama had at least one point to raise. I, too, had a lot of stuff to address.
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That evening, after supper, Mama and I sat in the parlor, primarily to watch a new home video on Netflix, but I should have known better.
I barely got a chance to watch a scene uninterrupted. Mama wouldn’t let me. This was when she remembered to tell me a story from years ago, an excerpt about someone she knew, a friend, or maybe my father and his reckless family members.
This was, in fact, a pattern. My mom is a real drama queen. All of this was Mama’s normal set-up for a conversation she assumed “needed to be very clarifying.” I recognized it immediately and waited for her to ultimately nail it.
She did eventually.
Two hours later.
To be continued…
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Moshood Avidiime The Writer
