Chapter 15: Get a life
Hours after Gisela left, I called my sister and her response put me at ease and made me suspicious at the same time. I recalled what she said when I asked her,
"Have you been watching the news lately?"
"No Daddy!"
"Come on Jo, it's not like that."
I sat on the bed with on leg huddled up to my chest and the phone, pressed on my ear as I listened to her rants. I was pleased that her nonchalant reply included a NO.
"How is it then, Dad always have a pack of silly questions for me, even when he knows the answers."
"But I'm not Dad."
"You're sounding like him."
"What did you expect? I'm his daughter ya." I yocked.
"I forgot, thanks for reminding me." She scoffed while chewing on something. The movement of her mouth made an annoying sound and I was tempted to query. "You of all people know that I don't like watching the news."
"Yeah- right,” I babbled. “I’d advise you not to. . You could- you could try seeing a movie! Yes, a movie."
"You sound so weird right now."
"Me? I’m not?"
"The weirdo kind of weird." She stressed, sounding doubtful. At once, I turned the table on her.
"I'm learning from you, remember?"
"What?" She stopped eating.
"Don't act as if you don't know what I’m talking about. The last time you came home, you were acting all weird and gloomy. You think I wouldn't notice? huh!"
"I uh- um- can I call you back?"
"Sure, but-"
She dropped the call, cutting me mid-sentence. I looked strangely at the phone and the closet, "What is she keeping from me?"
That, I presumed, was a discussion for another day. For now, the only,y thing in my head was to know everything the media was saying about me. I did not say a word to my parents, although I was tempted to.
I thought of talking to someone. Ma'am Eunice was still upset with me and Diogo, who had promised to visit the previous day, did not show up. I was too afraid of going out, because, the judgy eyes on me, might ignite a rage in me which would be uncontrollable.
“No way,” I stopped pacing and sat back on my bed. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
Quickly, I wore my favourite hoody, took some cash and headed to the main street. It was past noon at the time; fortunately, not many people noticed me during my 20 minutes walk.
I passed by a line of shops, including, a supermarket, restaurants and a few other businesses on both sides of the broad road. It was the busiest part of town, seconded by the market which was on the next street. This was one aspect of Don Carlo settlement that I loved and hated at the same time; the close-knitted setting with everything at arm’s reach. This made it easy for everyone to know everyone.
I took cautious steps to the newspaper-stand across the road. Few cars parked by the roadside and two men sat on the concrete benches beside the stand. They were engulfed in reading the papers and savouring the fresh breeze from nearby trees that they didn’t notice me.
I looked through the glasses, an array of newspapers displayed my sad face. “Shit! That’s it.” I cursed under my breath and the man standing on my left shrieked.
“Sorry,” I said.
The man nodded and returned to reading his paper. I peered closer, reading the headlines in a split-second:
“Moments when Immigrant girl started a protest...” I sighed, biting my lips and my nails pierced into my skin as my irate fist grew tighter.
Another read, “...outrage sparks over Teenage girl's actions...” My eyes jutted out, “outrage?” I muttered. “Protest against immigrants in Lisbon... What?” I smacked my forehead. This was my awkward way of expressing my frustration.
“Derange teenage girl opposes authorities over deported parents... Government spokesman debunks girl's claims. Fuck! fuck!” I cursed for the hundredth time till it was louder, followed by a punch in the air.
The men turned to me instantly, some raised their brow and the others muttered something. Abilio, the owner of the newspaper stand who was somehow hidden in it emerged with his tiny hairy figure like a mutated rabbit.
“Can I help you?” He narrowed his eyes, thus, enhancing his small bearded face.
He doesn’t recognise me? Gosh! Age was taking the better part of him, I thought. Everyone knew Abilio and his wit. Then, he would deliver newspapers at people's homes, endeavouring to give his opinion about trending headlines. Now, he’d sit all day in his stand, smoking his pipe.
“I uh-” I drew closer unsure of what to say, “I want to buy- some of those.” I pointed and immediately hung my head in a bow to avoid recognition.
The men took a second glance at me and chuckled gentle; while the others gave a mocking smile.
“What?” I straightened up and cleared my throat, understanding the reasons behind their reaction towards me, “ya'll think I don’t read?”
“Entertainment gossip only.” The old man on the bench teased and they all laughed hysterically and teased on.
“My wife does that,” The man beside me, concurred.
I shrugged, eyeing them before grabbing the papers that concerned me; six in all.
I offered Abilio the money and waiting forever for the change. Then the younger man on the bench made a remark and my heart almost bolted out of my chest.
“You look a lot like the girl on the paper.”
The other men turn to the front page and confirmed. Abilio glimpsed reflectively,
“Nathan’s daughter? You’re so grown.” He spelt out. As he handed me the coins.
I blinked a few times with a fake smile and walked away not minding the puddle of confusion the men were thrown in.
*****
I spent the rest of the day reading the newspapers, feeding my anger even more. The media was messed up and the truth was twisted to fit the government’s purpose.
That evening, I was washing the dishes, when I heard a knock on the door. To my surprise, it was Diogo.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I should have kept my promise.” He said, before stepping in.
I could see the stress written all over him and I could tell, he came straight from work. His ash coloured short-sleeved shirt, had sweat maps and his strained face, needed a warm wash.
I often wondered why Diogo was still single at 32. Well it's not in my place to ask him that, instead, I limited our conversation to what concerned me.
"Thanks for coming anyway."
"Keren, There's something I want to tell you, but promise me you won't flare-up."
All my nerves were stationed towards him, and my ears stood with all eagerness to receive the message.
"Please seat," I offered him the armchair, "give me a second." I rushed to my room and back with a hip of papers in my hand. I bent over and spread it on the centre table.
After taking a glance he sighed, "Umm- that's what I wanted to tell you."
"I was told it was on TV last night."
"Yes, I watched it."
"Why are they doing this to me?!" I slouched into the couch and kept up my query, "Is it not enough that they took my parents away from me. Why turn the table on me? it's not fair!"
"Keren, listen."
"I can't even go out because everyone is staring at me as if I'm a witch. Everyone thinks my family committed the worst crime because we were fugitives. What else do they want from me?!"
"Keren stop all the screaming! I'm not the media!"
At once I seized my rant, swallowed hard and folded my hands in defiance. He was right, I should be screaming at the media or the government, how cynical of me.
"No matter how loud you scream, it doesn't change the fact." His empathetic voice set a calm into my very being and all I could do was gaze at him.
"There is, however, something you can change; your attitude towards your situation. Leave the fight, the talk, the government, the media.” He paused, then lowered his voice, “Keren, being bitter and hateful will only destroy you. Always remember that your situation is not the worst. I'm not a good advisor, bear with me."
I was still silent, when he came over, held my hands, looking into my damp eyes,
"You are in your prime. Get a life. All this hurting will fade one day but you can never get back your youth. More challenges will come, thus, you have to be ready to overcome each, at the same time, maintaining your joy. So, do things that make you happy, chase your dreams, meet people, make friends and be happy."
An unusual reflex propelled me to hold him in an embrace. I held him tightly absorbing the strength and the positive vibes.
"Thank you, Diogo," I muttered. "I just want to be happy, I don't want to feel so empty and alone. I just want to-"
"shh," He shushed me, "you are never alone."
I knew what I needed to do. I realized that truly, there was nothing I could do to shun the media. I hoped that one day, I would be a journalist and I would speak the truth.
I would tell the real stories and let the world see what none would let them see. I was determined to get a grip of my emotions, 'get a life', make friends and be happy.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone