“I've always told you that you're not smart enough to write books! You never listen!” I watch him flip through the pages of my novel. For the first time in my life, I was confident about one of my works, I believed this would be my first published work. My big break.
And so when Covid came, it felt like the world had stopped for me to craft this plan, make my book from scratch and become famous immediately after I put it out. I had imagined the reactions and the posts from readers. I was in my own world.
Immediately after I was done with chores, I would crawl back into my room like a tortoise did with his shell. I would pick up my book and pen, and for hours, I would constantly doodle over the pages, drafting words together. It was almost like a witch's pot was hanging over the fire, and she was throwing things in for a potion. That was how I looked like.
If it wasn't, I would never understand why I had to stand in front of my mother's husband and be belittled for trying to write, I was only sixteen trying to get my big break and pull everyone out of this environment but my brothers had been so proud of my work, they went and tattled tailed to their father and now in front of his friends who were supposed to be on lockdown and my worried mother, he belittled me.
“What is this storyline even about?” He asked as he passed it to his other friend who giggled and shook his head.
“You're lucky this one is a girl; she would at least be worth something during marriage, but for sense?” His friend shook his head as if he had just witnessed a limp person try to walk and fall heavily.
“She no get am.” The men laughed loudly, and I could see my mother's eyes furrowed, or at least that was all I could make up of the blurry image of her face. My ears felt empty like there was a constant ring in them; my cheeks, once dry, felt unnecessarily wet. The laughter had increased as they scanned the book.
I turned around. I heard them call out, I heard my mother yelling but I didn't stop to grace the image. I felt my legs move; I spotted my brother by the door, his face dropped, and his eyes were glossier than usual. I wanted to yell at him for going through my things and handing them to that man, but I couldn't. I saw the confusion, he thought it was the best thing he had read.
He thought finally he would see me as more than a dummy, but to him, I was even more of a failure than ever. So, when I got to him, I stopped, and I saw him close his eyes; I patted his head, and his eyes shot open, and he scanned me, surprised, and I smiled. I bent down to his level. The screams outside were louder, and I could feel his body tense up, so I hugged him, and his hands instantly curved around me.
“I'm sorry, sissy, I really thought he would love it, I don't think you're dumb. You're very brilliant. I believe in you, I really do.” My tears were flowing endlessly now and before I could tell him anything. I felt my shirt being snatched, I held my brother tight and my eyes glued open in panic. He had come inside and he was cranky. I could tell.
“ I'm talking to you, and you're walking away; you think your mother can save you!” He was yanking at my shirt, and my brother was screaming in fear; I saw my mother behind being denied entrance by his friend. She was trying to fight her way in. I locked eyes with her before I felt the first sting on my back. My brother was still in my grip. My stepfather noticed pulled him away, and warned him to get lost. He nodded and stood by a corner watching and crying silently. My mother was screaming for people to come.
I felt the second and third slash on my back and on my head. I closed my eyes and bit my tongue as the pain spread across my body. The voices had faded away, and slowly, the pain felt minuscule, like a month baby poking you, finally, I shut my eyes; I heard a final scream and then silence.
“Wake up, Edidiong!” I felt my body being shaken awake, I sighed heavily.
“You don't listen do you?” I opened my eyes slightly and glared at my best friend. She rolled her eyes and jumped into my bed before I could press, she pushed her phone into my face!
I turned away; the light on my delicate eyes was too bright. “Divine!” I screamed as I rubbed my eyes with my hands.
“Oh, stop being a baby and look at this!” I ignored her and kept rubbing my eyes.
I felt her hand on my back, and I shrugged it off; she scoffed and got up.
“You're not going to bed without seeing this! No nightmares because our dreams have gone true!” she stretched the phone again towards me, hesitant I grabbed the phone and stared at it, my eyes snapped to hers. She was smiling. I looked back at the phone again, and I let out a scream and jumped out of bed; I was running around our room, and I was laughing. I kept looking at her phone.
“There's no way! There's no way!” I was crying now, and she was too; we kept screaming and dancing around the room to the song that played in our hearts. I had done it, we had done it.
In my hand, I held the phone and stared at my publisher's mail. One of my videos had gone Viral and I had sold over 2,000 copies in one night. The sales were still going up frantically by the minute. I stared at the increasing analytics, my best friend peering into the screen and saw the tears on the screen. I looked at her and we only smiled.
After minutes of screaming, we sat on the floor stuffing our faces with ice cream. I had called my mother and had to pull my phone away from my ears because of how loud the squeal was. My brothers in the background were throwing a million questions at her and when she finally yelled the news at them, I had to pull the phone from my ear the second time. I had never smiled so wild in years.
“You did it! You proved everyone wrong.!” I heard my mother say. I smiled at her. Adoring how lucky I was to have someone who would break down walls for me, and fight the world till I felt safe.
“Thank you, mummy. For not giving up on me.” I whispered, I heard the quiet laughter but I knew she understood.
As we celebrated, I couldn't help but think about the journey that had brought me here. The late nights spent writing, the early mornings spent editing, the countless rejections and criticisms. It had all been worth it.
Months went by, and my book continued to break records. The royalties poured in, and I was finally able to support my family in ways I never thought possible. My mother, seeing the success and stability that my writing had brought, finally found the courage to leave my stepfather and start anew.
I watched her smile freely, and my heart swelled with joy. She deserved happiness, and I was grateful to be able to provide for her. We moved to a new house, a beautiful place filled with love and laughter. My brothers thrived in school, and my mother started her own business.
As I looked at the sea from my balcony top, I thought about the phrase "Necessity is the mother of invention." Our struggles had fueled our strength, our creativity, and our determination. We had invented a new life, one filled with hope and possibility.
I smiled, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. We'd done it. We'd survived, and we'd thrived. My mother walked towards the balcony, her eyes met mine, and we shared a moment of pure happiness. In that moment, everything felt right with the world.
Image is not mine