Janaina Medeiros
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Native Americans
Lately, I have been way too curious about the history of Native Americans; however, I didn't even think to think about how to pronounce Native North Americans. So, please, follow me as I try to chart some of the history.
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Hypnos
With a sip and swallow it hits me
Sweet serenity; leaving reality
A third of our time is spent here
I only wish I could remember it
What little I do is like deja vu
A premonition that appears soon
Always so mundane, and yet
Accurate to the last detail
Some only have beautiful nightmares
I am granted with aphantasic bliss
No apples to sit next to oranges
Only rest as intended by nature
Rising from the downy dreamtime
I wonder what Jung would make of me
All I can do is look to my future
Make different dreams manifest now
Poseidon
The depth in you scares my friends
Or maybe the unknown laying beneath
I've always found you comforting
Despite fishing making me seasick
To feel the pressure on my back
As I float, dive under the waves
The way you soothe my loud thoughts
With the crashing, smashing, shush
I hate being away for too long
Like a siren stranded on mountains
Deep seated longing to sing again
With your surging, stoic metronome
Briny blows brush away my sweat
Let everyone else be Caligulan
I'll sit with you and listen
Moon, tide, together under stars
Native North Americans
Lately, I have been way too curious about the history of Native Americans; however, I didn't even think to think about how to pronounce Native North Americans. So, please, follow me as I try to chart some of the history.
Personally, I love ethnic groups. I do not know if it's disgustingly racist to primarily consider ethnic groups as gold standards. I am sorry, but I need to say this: focusing on races or even ethnic groups is ostensively disgusting. It really, really is. Here is some imagery to disclose the cultural areas that could introduce a conversion on ethnic groups within Native America; the question is: are these the basis for all the Native American Ethnic Groups. Here, at the top of the Wikipedia page, is a graphic of Native America & Her Cultures:
I never knew that my grandmother's name for her dog would be involved with this post. Goddard. My grandmother's name for her dog, Goddard, is confusing to me at this moment; however, I knew that the name is a remembrance of something. Little did I know that the name Goddard is a finder of Eastern Algonquian. Did any tribes of the Eastern Algonquian know. Did you know Christopher Columbus?
We should begin the lesson of Eastern Algonquian by looking at the language of the people. These are the peoples of the Northeastern section of Native North America. Therefore, the lesson is simple with access to the language: humanity has the ability to work against the peoples of the past that believe that Natives lack the luster and sophistication that peoples of Europe may have. I want access to the history that culture provides. Hence, let’s look at the language of the peoples of Eastern Algonquian:
According to Wikipedia, Mi’ kmaq means “my friends” and the language may not be decipherable with what I have read thus far. However, I have found that the section based on the history and classification of the Wikipedia is interesting.
The word that I found most interesting is the words that describe the idea of “white,” which I know wape’ t in Mi’ kmaq, wapi [wapi] in Maliseet, waappii [wapi] in Munsee, wôbi “[wɔ̃bɪ]” in Abenaki and wòpe “[wɔpe]” in Unami. Before I begin a dissection of the possible importance of the word, white, I want to say that I found the previous information from the Wikipedia page for the language that belongs to the groups of people known as Mi’ kmaq.
This next section may lack the importance in regard to the whole world. But, why is white important to say how the government engages with the idea of race?
Personally, I find that the different usages of white show that maybe the Munsee do not have a kind heart for white people because that word sounds like a whine. I second that notion; although, with caution. The other forms seem to also make fun of the word; and, the Mi’kmaq use a word that suggest rape due to the spelling. Without turning this one paragraph diffuse: I want to say that White is still an influential word, today. Regardless of the usage of the word, each tribe uses the word to describe something dynamic and I find that each tribes uses to signify that the tribe has an extended historical form; white is just the beginning of what we can find in language.
Kehlani 2
Months past and Kehlani is still at home with her mother, Mrs. Parrish. She keeps inspecting the mirror to notice the dark circles that are developing around her eyes. She continually remembers how that man, yes, James Dean abused her and would still do so today. There is one particular time that he swung at her kneecap. All she could see is the color purplish-blue. Cliché, I know, but Kehlani really suffers a great deal whenever she's been in his space, James Dean's space. *Knock, knock.* Mrs. Parrish starts to stick her head in through the open space in the bathroom door. “Hi,” starts Mrs. Parrish. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m strong today. I feel confident that I can gather the last bit of stuff from my old apartment. You know: Kay? Is she up?”
“She already left for school today.”
“Can you tell her that I love her today? Everyday feels like my last day, but today, I want to record new music.”
“Just start by cleaning your room first.” Mrs. Parrish heads to leave the room.
“A collection of blue in lines of code. Pick up the blue, then place the red.”
Kehlani grabs a yellow t-shirt. Damn, James Dean. I mean, he is a wonderful man. Sweet, kind, gentle. Abusive. Kehlani put the yellow t-shirt in the cardboard box labeled HOMEBOUND. Yellow t-shirt, blue baseball cap, & a sticker of the state bird. A sticker of the state bird. Why do people collect things like this? Kehlani grabs a photo of James and her. Part of her mind tries to crumple the picture. I really don’t want to remember him.
Jhené drops the cardboard box on the floor. On the side of the box, the word SELL is stark in black Sharpie against the brown cardboard box. Inside, Kehlani could tell that Jhené has put record upon record in the box. At the top, there is a record for Taylor Swift’s 1989. “You know, I hate Taylor Swift, but that pop record is one of the bests out to-date.” starts Kehlani.
“I don’t care either way. Just sell it. Or, get rid of it.” completes Jhené. “Just like you should get rid of this plush fish.”
Kehlani grabs the fish and pulls him in close to her. “I actually need just him to start the work to getting over that relationship with Dean.”
“Dean? You still call him, DEAN?”
"Well, yah.”
“You’re fucking kidding me. We’ve been through so much Keh. DEAN,” shouts Jhené. “I can’t & I won’t ever, ever let you call him that again. Fucking stupid. A knife, sis. A knife down you’re throat. Might as well have been our collective throats. What the actual fuck!” “Stupid ass knife, down your dumb ass throat. Stupid, stupid.”
“Look, I don’t need that. At all. Let’s just pack up the rest of the boxes.” sighs out Kehlani. Kehlani pulled a pink sweater from the rack out of the closet. The material is full of warmth such as a beading of the fabric into a braided shape. Honestly, I do find the fabric gorgeous, but the pieces of yarn that make up the design make the outfitted piece to be ugly to me. So slow. Today, I feel so slow and Jhené is failing me. Attention. I hate to say it, but I need attention.
In that moment, Kehlani starts to swirl around the objects in the room. She is becoming more and more confused with what to do with each object. That knife. I want to find that knife right now. Silver with etchings to make the blade jagged. I want to use the knife for Santeria against that fucking f*g. Honestly, fuck him; but Jhené; I just wish you could have said something different.
“You need this?” asks Jhené in a flat tone.
Kehlani shakes her head fast but instead, says, “Jesus Christ: is that My Chemical Romance?”
The knife swirls in his hand; he grabs the hilt of the blade and jabs the air making an M in the sky.
In real-time, Kay pulls on Kehlani’s arm. Wake up, please. In that moment, Kehlani seems like she was pulling at the sheets. Kay starts to pull at Kehlani in that moment. “Wake up, please Kehlani. I’m late for school today: Please, please, I need your car…Kehlani?”
Kehlani’s eye lids began to flutter. Ok, dodge each time he lunges. And, lunge and grab that knife. And, with a jolt, Kehlani sits right up in her bed, “Wait, what time is it?”
“It’s 11 am, Kehlani,” starts Kay. “We finished breakfast already.”
Kehlani stares at her wrist and begins with, “I feel like I have been traveling through time. I know it’s super weird but I keep seeing this knife?”
“Knife?” asks Kay.
“This knife that spells out M…” begins Kehlani and comes to a slow halt. Mine.
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Kehlani 2
Months past and Kehlani is still at home with her mother, Mrs. Parrish. She keeps inspecting the mirror to notice the dark circles that are developing around her eyes. She continually remembers how that man, yes, James Dean abused her and would still do so today. There is one particular time that he swung at her kneecap. All she could see is the color purplish-blue. Cliché, I know, but Kehlani really suffers a great deal whenever she's been in his space, James Dean's space. *Knock, knock.* Mrs. Parrish starts to stick her head in through the open space in the bathroom door. “Hi,” starts Mrs. Parrish. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m strong today. I feel confident that I can gather the last bit of stuff from my old apartment. You know: Kay? Is she up?”
“She already left for school today.”
“Can you tell her that I love her today? Everyday feels like my last day, but today, I want to record new music.”
“Just start by cleaning your room first.” Mrs. Parrish heads to leave the room.
“A collection of blue in lines of code. Pick up the blue, then place the red.”
Kehlani grabs a yellow t-shirt. Damn, James Dean. I mean, he is a wonderful man. Sweet, kind, gentle. Abusive. Kehlani put the yellow t-shirt in the cardboard box labeled HOMEBOUND. Yellow t-shirt, blue baseball cap, & a sticker of the state bird. A sticker of the state bird. Why do people collect things like this? Kehlani grabs a photo of James and her. Part of her mind tries to crumple the picture. I really don’t want to remember him.
Jhené drops the cardboard box on the floor. On the side of the box, the word SELL is stark in black Sharpie against the brown cardboard box. Inside, Kehlani could tell that Jhené has put record upon record in the box. At the top, there is a record for Taylor Swift’s 1989. “You know, I hate Taylor Swift, but that pop record is one of the bests out to-date.” starts Kehlani.
“I don’t care either way. Just sell it. Or, get rid of it.” completes Jhené. “Just like you should get rid of this plush fish.”
Kehlani grabs the fish and pulls him in close to her. “I actually need just him to start the work to getting over that relationship with Dean.”
“Dean? You still call him, DEAN?”
"Well, yah.”
“You’re fucking kidding me. We’ve been through so much Keh. DEAN,” shouts Jhené. “I can’t & I won’t ever, ever let you call him that again. Fucking stupid. A knife, sis. A knife down you’re throat. Might as well have been our collective throats. What the actual fuck!” “Stupid ass knife, down your dumb ass throat. Stupid, stupid.”
“Look, I don’t need that. At all. Let’s just pack up the rest of the boxes.” sighs out Kehlani. Kehlani pulled a pink sweater from the rack out of the closet. The material is full of warmth such as a beading of the fabric into a braided shape. Honestly, I do find the fabric gorgeous, but the pieces of yarn that make up the design make the outfitted piece to be ugly to me. So slow. Today, I feel so slow and Jhené is failing me. Attention. I hate to say it, but I need attention.
In that moment, Kehlani starts to swirl around the objects in the room. She is becoming more and more confused with what to do with each object. That knife. I want to find that knife right now. Silver with etchings to make the blade jagged. I want to use the knife for Santeria against that fucking f*g. Honestly, fuck him; but Jhené; I just wish you could have said something different.
“You need this?” asks Jhené in a flat tone.
Kehlani shakes her head fast but instead, says, “Jesus Christ: is that My Chemical Romance?”
[OC]The Lady and the Mermaid 👒🐚
Kehlani 2
Months past and Kehlani is still at home with her mother, Mrs. Parrish. She keeps inspecting the mirror to notice the dark circles that are developing around her eyes. She continually remembers how that man, yes, James Dean abused her and would still do so today. There is one particular time that he swung at her kneecap. All she could see is the color purplish-blue. Cliché, I know, but Kehlani really suffers a great deal whenever she's been in his space, James Dean's space. *Knock, knock.* Mrs. Parrish starts to stick her head in through the open space in the bathroom door. “Hi,” starts Mrs. Parrish. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m strong today. I feel confident that I can gather the last bit of stuff from my old apartment. You know: Kay? Is she up?”
“She already left for school today.”
“Can you tell her that I love her today? Everyday feels like my last day, but today, I want to record new music.”
“Just start by cleaning your room first.” Mrs. Parrish heads to leave the room.
“A collection of blue in lines of code. Pick up the blue, then place the red.”
Kehlani grabs a yellow t-shirt. Damn, James Dean. I mean, he is a wonderful man. Sweet, kind, gentle. Abusive. Kehlani put the yellow t-shirt in the cardboard box labeled HOMEBOUND. Yellow t-shirt, blue baseball cap, & a sticker of the state bird. A sticker of the state bird. Why do people collect things like this? Kehlani grabs a photo of James and her. Part of her mind tries to crumple the picture. I really don’t want to remember him.
Jhené drops the cardboard box on the floor. On the side of the box, the word SELL is stark in black Sharpie against the brown cardboard box. Inside, Kehlani could tell that Jhené has put record upon record in the box. At the top, there is a record for Taylor Swift’s 1989. “You know, I hate Taylor Swift, but that pop record is one of the bests out to-date.” starts Kehlani.
“I don’t care either way. Just sell it. Or, get rid of it.” completes Jhené. “Just like you should get rid of this plush fish.”
Kehlani grabs the fish and pulls him in close to her. “I actually need just him to start the work to getting over that relationship with Dean.”
“Dean? You still call him, DEAN?”
House finch. Jefferson County Colorado. Photo by Amber Maitrejean
Native North Americans
Lately, I have been way too curious about the history of Native Americans; however, I didn't even think to think about how to pronounce Native North Americans. So, please, follow me as I try to chart some of the history.
Personally, I love ethnic groups. I do not know if it's disgustingly racist to primarily consider ethnic groups as gold standards. I am sorry, but I need to say this: focusing on races or even ethnic groups is ostensively disgusting. It really, really is. Here is some imagery to disclose the cultural areas that could introduce a conversion on ethnic groups within Native America; the question is: are these the basis for all the Native American Ethnic Groups. Here, at the top of the Wikipedia page, is a graphic of Native America & Her Cultures:
I never knew that my grandmother's name for her dog would be involved with this post. Goddard. My grandmother's name for her dog, Goddard, is confusing to me at this moment; however, I knew that the name is a remembrance of something. Little did I know that the name Goddard is a finder of Eastern Algonquian. Did any tribes of the Eastern Algonquian know. Did you know Christopher Columbus?
We should begin the lesson of Eastern Algonquian by looking at the language of the people. These are the peoples of the Northeastern section of Native North America. Therefore, the lesson is simple with access to the language: humanity has the ability to work against the peoples of the past that believe that Natives lack the luster and sophistication that peoples of Europe may have. I want access to the history that culture provides. Hence, let’s look at the language of the peoples of Eastern Algonquian:
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Native North Americans
Lately, I have been way too curious about the history of Native Americans; however, I didn't even think to think about how to pronounce Native North Americans. So, please, follow me as I try to chart some of the history.
Personally, I love ethnic groups. I do not know if it's disgustingly racist to primarily consider ethnic groups as gold standards. I am sorry, but I need to say this: focusing on races or even ethnic groups is ostensively disgusting. It really, really is. Here is some imagery to disclose the cultural areas that could introduce a conversion on ethnic groups within Native America; the question is: are these the basis for all the Native American Ethnic Groups. Here, at the top of the Wikipedia page, is a graphic of Native America & Her Cultures:
I never knew that my grandmother's name for her dog would be involved with this post. Goddard. My grandmother's name for her dog, Goddard, is confusing to me at this moment; however, I knew that the name is a remembrance of something. Little did I know that the name Goddard is a finder of Eastern Algonquian. Did any tribes of the Eastern Algonquian know. Did you know Christopher Columbus?
Sell Him Out
I want to remember the fact that at one point in my life: I experienced rape. The story just gets worse. So let's List The Name:
Santiage Del Rio Obando )2024(
Sell Him Out
I want to remember the fact that at one point in my life: I experienced rape. The story just gets worse. So let's List The Name:
Kehlani 2
Months past and Kehlani is still at home with her mother, Mrs. Parrish. She keeps inspecting the mirror to notice the dark circles that are developing around her eyes. She continually remembers how that man, yes, James Dean abused her and would still do so today. There is one particular time that he swung at her kneecap. All she could see is the color purplish-blue. Cliché, I know, but Kehlani really suffers a great deal whenever she's been in his space, James Dean's space. *Knock, knock.* Mrs. Parrish starts to stick her head in through the open space in the bathroom door. “Hi,” starts Mrs. Parrish. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m strong today. I feel confident that I can gather the last bit of stuff from my old apartment. You know: Kay? Is she up?”
“She already left for school today.”
“Can you tell her that I love her today? Everyday feels like my last day, but today, I want to record new music.”
“Just start by cleaning your room first.” Mrs. Parrish heads to leave the room.
Kehlani
At the yellowish-floral door, Kehlani pushes herself into asking herself: “Do I knock?” Of course, not: is what she thinks.
In a rush, a woman comes to the door; she has greenish-blue skin. “Hi? Your name,” replies the Asian woman.
“Oh…, umm, my name is Kehlani. I’m looking for my mother, but…umm,” pauses Kehlani, “I don’t know how to explain this, but you’re Asian.” The corners of her lips twitches up, unsure of how to explain that her mother is not Asian. Ok, no need to be rude. “Sorry,” finishes Kehlani before starting to turn away.
“Kehlani?” questions her mother after she pushes past the woman at the opening of the walkway. A brown-skinned Puerto Rican woman shows her face to Kehlani. She thumbs at and points out the mark on her face. “Is this an accident?” She asks in a foreign language. “Is it temporary?”
“Is what temporary?” Kehlani grabs her phone to look at her reflection. “I don’t see much…” of a difference. “I really don’t see anything different in my face,” Kehlani began, “but?” Kehlani looks down at her phone again. There is a dark shadow over my right eyelid.
“Yes?” Mrs. Parrish replies. Mrs. Parrish continues to look at her face. She starts to study Kehlani's face. What happened to my daughter’s face?
“You know, I do not want to tell you where to look, but why look at my face?” Kehlani tries to remember why she is here. Although she remembers that she is home, she is unable to initially remember why she wants to come home. Now that the woman has left, Kehlani asks: “Is anyone else here?” begins Kehlani, “Kay?”
Before Kehlani’s mother can respond, Mrs. Parrish reaches out to touch her daughter’s face. She cannot tell if Kehlani feels like herself right then, or if she feels a bit lost. Kehlani begins to reach to push her mother’s hand away. “Wait, where have you been? Do you still live over on L Street?”
“L Street? No, I moved out. I just—I couldn’t afford it—,” states Kehlani.
“What do you mean? Did you just come here right now? Where do you live? Where have you been?!”
Kehlani looks to her right and then to her left; again, to the left even further. “Well, I have been living at my house on L street,” starts Kehlani, but then: “Actually, can I stay her—? Maybe live here?”
Kehlani’s mother looks at her wrist. She anticipates that Kehlani may want to initiate intimacy by touching her right wrist, but Kehlani doesn’t even reach forward to touch her. Kehlani’s mother looks at the scar on her cheek. “Kehlani, have you been ok?” began her mother. “You know, what? Yes! Yes, fine. Yes, please, please come home.” Mrs. Parrish grabs her daughter in a clean swiping gesture of loving attention. She’s home.
Keh pushes past her sister’s room. The light filters through the room and Kehlani could tell that her sister had not been home for a while. She is aware that her mother cleared the house in the hopes that Kehlani and her can talk. She turns around in a 180-degree turn to head into the kitchen. Mrs. Parrish looks behind her. Keep in mind, that the Parrish household is not large; however, the space is flush filled with every amenity such as a cassette player, a vinyl player, and chairs. Unfortunately, the space could not accommodate anything but predominately, chairs. And, definitely, not even sofas. “Kehlani?”
“When will she be home?” asks Kehlani.
“Who Kay?” responds Mrs. Parrish.
“Yes? I mean, who else?” responds Kelani ever so slightly with a rude tone.
Mrs. Parrish lifts her finger to begin to respond and then, drops the spoon in the pan. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home. Come here,” Mrs. Parrish almost spits back while gesturing with her arms.
Mrs. Parrish is busy at the moment inspecting the spoon and the large dent in the curve of the spoon. “You know, the glasses you have in the sink,” began Kehlani. “I can help clean them?” Kehlani starts to pick up the glasses in the sink and starts to inspect them. They look clean; however, they are covered in gray spots. Kehlani begins to take one look ahead of her vision to see a gleam of a sterling steel knife. “Mom, did I ever tell you about my knife?” questions Kehlani.
Mrs. Parrish looks up in surprise, “Knife?”
“I used to have this knife,” giggles Kehlani. “Well, I mean I don’t have it anymore, but I like to play knife tricks. Can I show you some moves with the butter knife?” Kehlani grips the butter knife and twirls it on her thumb and then her index finger. Just like a magician. “He almost killed me, though."
“I used to have this knife,” giggles Kehlani. “Well, I mean I don’t have it anymore, but I like to play knife tricks. Can I show you some moves with the butter knife?” Kehlani grips the butter knife and twirls it on her thumb and then her index finger. Just like a magician. “He almost killed me though.
“Ok, so boom: James Dean… You know him, right? Yah, well, he thought it would be such a great joke.” Ok, so how do I explain it. “Super famous. I mean super famous porn star.” At this moment, Kehlani mother could react but, Keh shoved forward. “So yeah, he was kinda weird and crazy, but one day, yah—yup, he just shoved the knife right down my throat. And, I started to almost kill him. It wasn’t funny in the slightest.” explains Kehlani.
Kehlani’s mother can’t stop grasping for her tongue. What do I say?
“Was it a blade? A switch-blade?” questions Mrs. Parrish.
“YES—yes! Plus, it was long almost 4.5 inches,” starts Kehlani. “And I know, I know it’s weird. Why shove it down my throat? But, he did.”
Mrs. Parrish is starting to think that Kehlani is joking, but after another pace, Kehlani begins to gesture and shake her head violently. Again, Mrs. Parrish puts her arms around her. “I am so thankful that you are already here with me today.” They look into each other’s eyes: finally, relief. “Please.”
Kehlani begin to look confused. Please?
“Move in. Stay here. Be with me. Please.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
In order to not get trapped for days again, I set myself a strict time limit: If I didn't get this finished today, I wouldn't finish it. I need to get work done tomorrow and I can't spend another four days in a row thinking "ok today I'll finally finish that thing for sure". And I did! I finished it! Wanted to go for an iridescent clear plastic look.
Kehlani
At the yellowish-floral door, Kehlani pushes herself into asking herself: “Do I knock?” Of course, not: is what she thinks.
In a rush, a woman comes to the door; she has greenish-blue skin. “Hi? Your name,” replies the Asian woman.
“Oh…, umm, my name is Kehlani. I’m looking for my mother, but…umm,” pauses Kehlani, “I don’t know how to explain this, but you’re Asian.” The corners of her lips twitches up, unsure of how to explain that her mother is not Asian. Ok, no need to be rude. “Sorry,” finishes Kehlani before starting to turn away.
“Kehlani?” questions her mother after she pushes past the woman at the opening of the walkway. A brown-skinned Puerto Rican woman shows her face to Kehlani. She thumbs at and points out the mark on her face. “Is this an accident?” She asks in a foreign language. “Is it temporary?”
“Is what temporary?” Kehlani grabs her phone to look at her reflection. “I don’t see much…” of a difference. “I really don’t see anything different in my face,” Kehlani began, “but?” Kehlani looks down at her phone again. There is a dark shadow over my right eyelid.
“Yes?” Mrs. Parrish replies. Mrs. Parrish continues to look at her face. She starts to study Kehlani's face. What happened to my daughter’s face?
“You know, I do not want to tell you where to look, but why look at my face?” Kehlani tries to remember why she is here. Although she remembers that she is home, she is unable to initially remember why she wants to come home. Now that the woman has left, Kehlani asks: “Is anyone else here?” begins Kehlani, “Kay?”
Before Kehlani’s mother can respond, Mrs. Parrish reaches out to touch her daughter’s face. She cannot tell if Kehlani feels like herself right then, or if she feels a bit lost. Kehlani begins to reach to push her mother’s hand away. “Wait, where have you been? Do you still live over on L Street?”
“L Street? No, I moved out. I just—I couldn’t afford it—,” states Kehlani.
“What do you mean? Did you just come here right now? Where do you live? Where have you been?!”
Kehlani looks to her right and then to her left; again, to the left even further. “Well, I have been living at my house on L street,” starts Kehlani, but then: “Actually, can I stay her—? Maybe live here?”
Kehlani’s mother looks at her wrist. She anticipates that Kehlani may want to initiate intimacy by touching her right wrist, but Kehlani doesn’t even reach forward to touch her. Kehlani’s mother looks at the scar on her cheek. “Kehlani, have you been ok?” began her mother. “You know, what? Yes! Yes, fine. Yes, please, please come home.” Mrs. Parrish grabs her daughter in a clean swiping gesture of loving attention. She’s home.
Keh pushes past her sister’s room. The light filters through the room and Kehlani could tell that her sister had not been home for a while. She is aware that her mother cleared the house in the hopes that Kehlani and her can talk. She turns around in a 180-degree turn to head into the kitchen. Mrs. Parrish looks behind her. Keep in mind, that the Parrish household is not large; however, the space is flush filled with every amenity such as a cassette player, a vinyl player, and chairs. Unfortunately, the space could not accommodate anything but predominately, chairs. And, definitely, not even sofas. “Kehlani?”
“When will she be home?” asks Kehlani.
“Who Kay?” responds Mrs. Parrish.
“Yes? I mean, who else?” responds Kelani ever so slightly with a rude tone.
Mrs. Parrish lifts her finger to begin to respond and then, drops the spoon in the pan. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home. Come here,” Mrs. Parrish almost spits back while gesturing with her arms.
Mrs. Parrish is busy at the moment inspecting the spoon and the large dent in the curve of the spoon. “You know, the glasses you have in the sink,” began Kehlani. “I can help clean them?” Kehlani starts to pick up the glasses in the sink and starts to inspect them. They look clean; however, they are covered in gray spots. Kehlani begins to take one look ahead of her vision to see a gleam of a sterling steel knife. “Mom, did I ever tell you about my knife?” questions Kehlani.
Mrs. Parrish looks up in surprise, “Knife?”
“I used to have this knife,” giggles Kehlani. “Well, I mean I don’t have it anymore, but I like to play knife tricks. Can I show you some moves with the butter knife?” Kehlani grips the butter knife and twirls it on her thumb and then her index finger. Just like a magician. “He almost killed me, though."
“I used to have this knife,” giggles Kehlani. “Well, I mean I don’t have it anymore, but I like to play knife tricks. Can I show you some moves with the butter knife?” Kehlani grips the butter knife and twirls it on her thumb and then her index finger. Just like a magician. “He almost killed me though.
“Ok, so boom: James Dean… You know him, right? Yah, well, he thought it would be such a great joke.” Ok, so how do I explain it. “Super famous. I mean super famous porn star.” At this moment, Kehlani mother could react but, Keh shoved forward. “So yeah, he was kinda weird and crazy, but one day, yah—yup, he just shoved the knife right down my throat. And, I started to almost kill him. It wasn’t funny in the slightest.” explains Kehlani.
Kehlani’s mother can’t stop grasping for her tongue. What do I say?
