Growing up, everything had been Uncle Lincoln’s fault. Ireti would watch them on TV. Mother would stand with father and Aunt Saige, following the instructions Uncle Lincoln spoke. Together they would save the world.
At home, mother’s anger echoed in her screams. Father would look down as mother stabbed a finger towards the TV and dictated the injustice.
Mother always saw something different than Ireti. Uncle Lincoln would lead. Mother only heard shouted commands. Uncle would protect but mother claimed he was stealing glory.
Mother’s power was casting darkness. Uncle could control minds, pushing visions and dreams behind someone’s eyes. Ireti had felt it. Before the world called them The Calvary, they had simply been family.
Ireti would play with her cousin at his house and he would make their imaginations come to life. It was truly magical. She asked her uncle, only once, if he could cast nightmares. He said he could but he chose not to. Everyone deserved a dream and joy would always halt anguish.
That’s why Ireti had to be better. Dreams were weak. That’s what mother had told her. But Ireti had kept Uncle’s words, taking them out to study in her mind. At some point, they became part of her, like a chosen name.
A mistake, perhaps. At the birthday party of an adult she didn’t know, her cousin had been sad. She hugged her cousin and reached for a dream. When her cousin smiled, Ireti asked if she saw it. Her cousin said no, but she could feel it.
Immediately, mother took her hand, pulling Ireti away. They left the party with a thin excuse. In the car, mother said Ireti would make her proud. Ireti thought mother had felt her dream.
Instead, mother spiraled into a nightmare.
Mother found the most crowded places, favoring tourist areas where families were happy and making memories. Ireti was forced into the center of it and mother told her, “Make them feel.”
It was easy at first. She thought of a dream and pushed it out into the world. She felt when others were brightened, when hidden misery made way for forgotten joy. Ireti was the sun and delight was her beam.
Mother was a shadow. Snuffing out Ireti’s light. She grabbed the child by her shoulders and shook, yelling, “Be better than that!” The crowd turned. The gaze of hundreds became a spotlight. Mother’s grip was on her arms, no chance for escape.
“Make them feel!”
Ireti’s lip trembled, her eyes darted around. “I did.”
“Dreams are pathetic! Make them feel!”
Ireti searched for something else, tried to push it out. Maybe she had too many emotions. It all stayed inside, ramming into the walls of her mind. Mother scoffed, snatching her hand and yanking.
At home, Mother scolded. Spewing anger to replace joy. It became their lives. Mother kept dissecting something deep inside.
Until mother finally understood Ireti had nothing more to give. They had been in a museum. Ireti had cried, begging to be left alone. Mother huffed and stood, shaking her head.
When Ireti looked up, she saw mother’s back. She didn’t return when Ireti called for her. The child ran, keeping up as best as she could. Maybe mother would have driven off without her but Ireti opened the door just before she could shift gears.
“I’m sorry,” Ireti said, trying to wipe the wetness from her eyes before it was noticed.
Mother scoffed, hands clenching the wheel. “You’re useless.”
Ireti looked out the window, wondering if the words were true. She pondered this every day. Took the words apart to evaluate their parts and stuck them back together to observe them whole. At some point, they became part of her, like an assigned name.
Hello! I am a Graphic Designer by trade but I have loved reading and writing since I was a child. I hope you enjoy my works!