‘I believe I have always tasted the sour part of life Jeff. So much struggle with me trying to keep my cool all these years but somehow lately, it’s all making me loose it.
When I was 12, mum had a helper brought over since she was rarely around. Mum was always in one country or the other looking for products which she came to retail in her mart.
The help mum got was Nelly. Nelly was a kind heart-so caring and loving and she cooked the best meals. Nelly taught me so many things and one thing I would never forget was how she gently coaxed me out of my shell to sing. She said I had an awesome voice even at my age and that she couldn’t imagine where I would be if only I stepped out boldly.
Nelly had a friend, a male friend who was always in our house. He used to bring me chocolates and variety of sweets. One day I heard both of them argue while I was in my room. I came out to peek into the kitchen only to see Nelly push her friend, Kwame, violently away and scream out loud. Kwame lost balance at the push but regained it quickly to storm out of the house. At that time we hadn’t moved into the mansion yet.
Nelly turned towards the kitchen sink and wept loudly and uncontrollably after he left. She had placed the weight of her upper body on her palms which pressed hard unto the sink counter.
I couldn’t stand seeing her that way yet I was at a loss at what to do. I left her there all alone and quietly slipped into my room. My friend and sister had been hurt and so was I.
Subsequent to that incident, Nelly’s behavior changed for the worse. She stopped being bubbly and jovial and always seemed to be angry at something I never knew of.
One Tuesday afternoon, after I returned from school, I lay quietly on my bed reading a new novel mum had given me before traveling two nights before. Nelly entered my room with my clean laundry in a basket. She placed the basket infront of my open and untidy closet and walked closer to me. That drew my attention, for it had been long since she did that.
She sat close to me and pulled my hand away from my book, pulling it close to her chest simultaneously forcing me to sit up in my bed.’
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