Fiction | Magical Realism | Fate
Her Grandmother Carried the Heavy Pain of Abandonment
COMPASS
Aisha always roamed the rocky shore of her chilly seaside village. She stayed outside for long periods. She never wanted to return too soon to the sadness that shrouded the place that was her home. That day, she discovered a compass washed up on the shore.
Don’t pick up what you did not put down. The voice of her grandmother rose in her mind.
But the warning did not stop her.
Looking at it, she observed its needle spun in a staccato tempo, not pointing north. Well, that’s curious, she thought. Where are you indicating I should go?
She pocketed her find and continued home.
All the candles in the house flickered away from Aisha as she entered the room, seeming to betray she had something foreign. Her grandmother’s eyes snapped to the child who had been in her care since the girl was an orphaned baby.
Aisha’s eyes widened in an unasked question as she observed her grandmother’s lips, thin and pursed.
The old woman’s aura told of bitterness. Aisha felt the eyes follow her with disdainful slowness. She put away her heavy overcoat and settled into a chair at the kitchen table.
“Gran, what’s the matter?” she said with the utmost deference.
The creases on her grandmother’s forehead formed a map of disapproving thoughts.
“I don’t hate you, my child. I hate what you are going to become.”
Aisha’s hand moved to her skirt pocket. Her fingers clutched the compass, draining the blood from her knuckles.
“What am I to become, Gran?” she asked, her eyebrows knotted as she tried to understand the meaning.
“The same as your mother, it seems.”
“Gran, you are scaring me. What do you mean?”
“A letter came in the mail for you today. You did not tell me you applied to a school far away.”
Aisha’s heart leaped with joy, tinged with some trepidation. She has wanted to escape this dismal village. Melancholy wrapped itself around this home her grandmother dominated. She applied to the University of the West Indies. A school on a tropical island called to her heart. She wanted to be in a sunny, happy place.
“Oh,” is all she dared to say.
“Your slut of a mother left me when she was your age too, spread her legs for some random man, died, and sent you for me. I hoped you would be different — better.”
Tears stung Aisha’s eyes as the daggers in her grandmother’s words pierced her heart. She had heard this hurtful declaration before, but it has yet to lose its brutality. She remained still with her eyes lowered.
Raising her voice, her grandmother asked, “Well, you have nothing to say?”
Aisha fished the compass out of her pocket with trembling hands. Then, she opened her palm towards the old woman.
At the same time, they both looked down at it. The wild motion Aisha had seen earlier had ceased. The device now indicated the true north.
Aisha changed course. Though still soft-spoken, her next words carried a weight of conviction. “Thank you for all you have done for me. Yes, my destiny is pointing me away from you. I hope we do not part on angry terms. Please grant me your blessings, Gran.”
Haaawk! Before Aisha could react, her grandmother made a low, squelching sound. Her cheek muscles moved, and a disgusting glob of saliva landed right between the girl’s eyes.
In the spittle was the weight of the pain of abandonment her grandmother carried. It was also laced with the preemptive pain from her granddaughter’s departure.
Aisha felt all of it. And, this time, she would listen to her grandmother’s warning. Don’t pick up what you did not put down.
Opening her eyes after what seemed like an eternity, Aisha picked up one of the red and yellowed-white cotton napkins from the worn and weathered table. With purposeful movements, she wiped her face of what her grandmother put down.
She rose, picked up the compass, walked out of the door, and left the only life she had known.
© Scarlet Ibis James, 2023: All Rights Reserved.
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🙏🏾 Thank you for reading! This story was written for The Lime Castle’s January contest.
🧭 Thanks to J. Andrew for the COMPASS prompt and C. Elyse for the quote that caused this piece to emerge:
“They don’t hate you, my child. They hate what you were meant to become.” Tomi Adeyemi
🛍️ This post contains an Amazon affiliate link to a book. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases at no extra cost to you.
🍯 This story is dedicated to the children raised, like me, in the shadow of their parent’s sins. A prayer goes up for all those young souls living it this day. May they be directed and shepherded to peace with grace.