One Bad Day

The noisy chirping of birds communicating about 'who knows what' woke me up that morning. Normally it would have been the sun rays infiltrating the bedroom doing that job if I hadn't pulled the curtains close and instructed that no one should open it.

Nevertheless, it was either one of these two or both or the deafening sound of Mom's voice calling me to start the day that pulled me from the deep abyss of sleep.

Lifting myself off the bed, my eyes searched for the lumps on the two other beds, of course, they were gone; I had to prepare for school. I stood up, squinting my eyes to see when it hit me that the place was still poorly illuminated so I made my way to the curtains and drew them back to reveal the morning sun in all its glory.

Wincing as my eyes tried to adjust to the sudden brightness of the room, I went back to my bed, knelt down and said a short prayer. I craned my head towards the wall clock—seven-fifty a.m.

"Oh dear."

Quickly I rushed into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, almost choking on the lather that had formed in my mouth when Mom's high-pitched voice came bustling forth from the kitchen outside.

"I hope you're out of bed, Carina!"

Still with a lather-laden mouth, I mumbled a response, "Yes, mom."

To say Mom's voice was simply loud was an understatement 'cause it was thunderous, ear-splitting and compelling— that was when she was being disciplinary and 'a real pain in the rear' as my brothers would say. However, the same voice was also soothing and charming when it released strings and strings of melodious notes as she sang to us when we gathered at night.

Speaking of charming, her features fitted that description too well; her eyes which possessed a sea-green hue surrounded by long eyelashes and brows with a hint of red, her shoulder length curly red hair which she often preferred to style into a high bun leaving some strands at the sides to frame her face, her skin was fair and flawless though now having slight wrinkles as she was getting aged.

She possessed a tall frame being nicely curved at her lower regions. The colour of her hair and eyes were such a rarity that it gave her this otherworldly look.

People often said the resemblance between us was cunning—Ha! That sentence was almost correct if not for the scars that disfigured me...

I finished with my teeth and wiped my mouth. My house chores still awaited me so I had better get to it.

"Morning, Mom."

"Morning, Sunshine," she replied cheerfully.

Dad had his nose buried deep in the newspaper he was reading. "His daily routine"

"Morning, Dad."

In reply, he mumbled some inaudible nonsense.

"Don't mind your father, dearie he's too indulged in his newspaper that he couldn't care less about the outside world," Mom teased, still visibly engrossed in her cooking and cleaning to spare me a glance since I entered.

"Where's Kyle and Caleb?"

"School," she replied.

"And Nicholas?" I asked, reaching out for a pancake but a sharp pain on the back of my palm caused by her spatula colliding against it made me regret my actions.

"Don't you dare, now go and finish your chores and get ready for the market," she instructed. "And Nicholas went to grandma's house for an errand I sent him he'll be back soon, now go, shoo."

Still gingerly rubbing the back of my palm where Mom struck me, I reluctantly started dragging myself towards the water containers we kept at the edge of the entrance to the house facing the farm—the backyard. That was also where the kitchen was; outside the house.

It was a small structure made from zinc and wood as there was no space in the house for it. The house couldn't accommodate the six of us comfortably at all though as it only consisted of two small bedrooms, the living room and then the bathroom.

The building itself was charred black due to the fire that took place some years ago which almost took my life. It took a severe hit when that fire happened but thanks to those sympathizers—God bless their souls—that helped put our house in order once more.

Our farm was situated just outside, in the backyard. It was a rather small piece of land but served its purpose just fine. We cultivated a lot of foodstuff in it and flowers too. We used to have a little poultry too until Kyle and Caleb came along, apparently, the cost of keeping the birds was going to weigh heavily on us if we had kept it coupled with raising the twins.

As I approached the containers and from my peripheral vision, I saw Dad smirk at me when he brought his newspaper down a little bit. He must have heard when Mom slapped my hand for trying to take a pancake because I hadn't done any chores for that day, so, he threw me a nasty smirk just to spite me.

In return, I scowled at him before facing my chores as I took some water and a broom and started to make my way back to the room to clean. Mom who saw what transpired between the both of us broke into a fit of hearty laughter.

"Whatever," I hummed within me.

Dad was always so full of childish behaviour, sometimes he made me happy and we'd enjoy each other's company while on other occasions he'd be such a jerk that punching him was the least punishment I could give him on my hurt list.

But, in summation, he was the best Dad any kid could ask for—those gruff strong arms that cuddled me when I was sad, those hazelnut eyes that radiated nothing but hope even though there too was pain behind them. I shuddered to try to think of what he had to go through and I wouldn't ask him about it either. His height could be termed as average and his muscles bulged for the kind of work he did caused him to be physically built.

Most of the time, no, scratch that—all of the time he came back home severely fatigued and worn out from all the work he'd done for the day which ranged from fishing, doing labour work in the cement factory and in the building sites infact, he did any job that came by, working tirelessly from morning till dusk. Mom was always so worried for him, advising him to take it easy on himself, not to push his body to its limits but he always shut her up on the account of providence for the family.

Nevertheless, all of the excessive jobs had started to take its toll on him. Now, he was overcome with stress and he looked a lot older than he actually was, grey hair now tainting the once full head of black hair. He had fallen ill and though it wasn't that serious, Mom insisted he not do any work until he was well, leaving Nicholas to carry on.

Amidst these, he always made time for us. He always told us this: "Sometimes we face difficulties along the line but what really matters is how we react in those situations". And, I had these words carved at the back of my mind. They've helped me through some phases in my life not excluding the religious upbringing they gave us.

As I cleaned, I hummed one of the songs Mom used to sing to us; Black Rose—my favourite, it ushered in this sense of inner peace and tranquility in me whilst giving me hope. Nonetheless, this happiness was short-lived when I uncovered the package one of the twins must've left me in the toilet, "those naughty, naughty boys".

Just as I concluded my chores, Mom's voice came booming again, "Carina darling, I hope you know where you have to be today. Start getting ready, would you?"

"Honey, do you have to be so loud?" Voiced Dad from the kitchen.

And I thought I was the only one irritated from the way she shouted.

Rushing, I cleaned myself up, styling my hair into twin braids and donning an oversized blue t-shirt. It was a hand-me-down from my brother, Nicholas and it was my favourite shirt since I only had five. Completing my attire was a worn out jean just knee-length.

My tummy rumbled and I rushed into the kitchen and dug into my food. I was so focused on satisfying my hunger that I didn't notice Mom entering the kitchen, she was now dressed up of course, and Dad hadn't moved an inch yet. He wasn't going to work that day as he was still ill.

Grinning at me, he asked, "Hungry much?"

I gave a slight nod and continued munching away, food being the only thing that made sense at the moment.

"I'll be going to visit a friend of mine who came back from the city. Carina, head on out without me."

"Hold on, isn't that Mrs. O'Neil. She's back already?" Voiced dad.

"The one and only, unless there's another Mrs. O'Neil I don't know about," she shot him an accusing look.

"Quit yapping woman, you can go on and while you're at it extend my greetings would you?" Said Dad, an unreadable expression plastered across his face.

Mom rolled her eyes and grumbled, something about not needing his permission for anything as she left.

Then silence reigned as I finished the last of my food, washed the plate and put it back on the rack. Just then, Dad started coughing. I hurriedly poured him a glass of water and made him drink it.

The coughing subsided as soon as it came.

"Dad, are you okay?" I asked, worry evident in my voice.

Even though the doctor had confirmed that it wasn't serious, that wasn't enough for me. First it starts like it's nothing serious and then before you know it, the illness has gone full blown and turned into something else—more complicated and may even become terminal. Oh no! I'm overthinking again. I just feel the need for me to be there and take care of him. I may have to sit this one out.

"I'm fine now," he reassured for the millionth time as he stood up and started heading to his room, his steps slow and frail.

"Let me help you, Dad," I offered, trying to take a hold of him but he quickly responded, saying, "I can handle myself, I just need to rest."

I still followed him all the way to his room. Once he was tucked into bed, I grabbed a seat and sat on it.

"Why are you still here? Leave!" He ordered.

"Dad but I need to stay here to take care of you. I can't leave your side," I returned.

"Listen Carina, the doctor said it's not serious. I'm already getting better. You have to leave for the market so you can make some sales. I can take good care of myself and besides I'm not even that old yet neither am I a little child, now leave!" He ordered in a tone of finality and started coughing.

I quickly handed him another glass of water. He shot me a warning look and I knew that was my cue to make like a banana and split.

Without wasting another moment, I fled the house.