memoir, memories, teenage years, Uncategorized

To Save My Own Hide

“Okay, Mum, you can go now,” I said flinging my hand out in the direction of my bedroom door.

“I will,” she said. “After I use the bathroom.” She headed towards the bathroom situated in the far corner of my room.

Shit.

Federica and I had been tossing our cigarette butts in the toilet and we weren’t consistent with flushing them down. Assuming of course, that any normal person in my family wouldn’t climb the outside spiral staircase up to the 3rd floor just to enter my room and use my toilet.

It’s taken me too long to realize that maybe my mother isn’t entirely normal. That’s besides the point, however.

My bedroom was a standalone loft apartment of sorts. No kitchenette, but a large room with a small bathroom that housed it’s own shower and toilet and a long hallway to the door that stood at the top of the outdoor staircase.

The hall and two sides of my room were lined with barred and screened windows that opened wide. A necessity in the Ethiopian summer; when it would get much too hot and stuffy in that room… or when your Italian friend came for a sleepover and shared her cigarettes with you.

Open windows aside, my mother discovered we were smoking when she brushed my protests off and pushed past me to use my bathroom though hers was a mere flight of steps away.

Fede and I exchanged glances. She wasn’t too worried for herself, her parents knew she smoked. I’m sure she knew my mum would flip her lid though.

And flip it she did.

She huffed out of that bathroom and said “Emma what the hell is this?” Using her most angry face and voice, you know to make sure I knew she was pissed.

Obviously I blamed it on Fede. I denied all wrong doing myself.

I know, I snitched… But at the same time both Fede and I knew she wouldn’t be in trouble so, might as well. My mum didn’t even try to contact her parents anyway, she just forbid me from letting any of my friends smoke in my room.

She had no choice but to calm down really, cuz… ya know… she couldn’t prove I did any smoking myself.

20170803_112458[1]
Me, around the time of this story

**Yay! Back to memory narratives. At least… as I have time, which is not often. But I’m gonna try for you guys! I’ve got a few ideas written down. Crossing fingers I get to them in a timely fashion 😉

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