Page 168 of Invisible Bars
“If you don’t feel like talking about this tonight, I understand; no pressure. But what’s the deal with your parents? You kind of brushed the topic off last time.”
The pause was instant.
My eyes fell to my plate, and the waves outside felt louder all of a sudden.
With a loud sigh, I began to tell my story.
“My grandparents raised me. I mean… you probably figured that.”
“I did. But you never said why.”
I sucked in a breath and then experienced a light tic.
“When I was sixteen,” I began, voice soft but cracking at the edges, “My grandmother sat me down and said she needed to talk. I thought it was just a normal day. She was making puff-puff and h-hibiscus tea…”
Imanio didn’t interrupt; he just leaned closer, letting the yacht’s hum fade into the background.
“She told me I was born in Nigeria. I… I already knew that. But the story I grew up hearing was that my mom and father couldn’t afford my medicine, so they sent me to the States, to Mississippi, to live with my grandparents so I could get the proper care I needed.”
Another tic surged. My shoulder rolled, and I blurted: “Ghosts with government names!” My voice was wobbly, but I continued. “But the truth? They sent me away because I wasn’t what they wanted. I was... Too noisy. Too twitchy. Too much.My grandmother found out after they told her in some half-shameful confession. They didn’t want to raise a child who would embarrass them.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“Damn,” Imanio muttered, his tone sharpened with disbelief and quiet rage. “When is the last time you spoke to them?”
“I haven’t spoken to them since finding that out… not once. They used to call the house phone from time to time, trying to talk to me. But Nana Li never made me. Eventually, they stopped asking. As far as I’m concerned… t-they don’t exist.”
Another outburst came mid-sentence. “Surprise! Your origin story’s trash! Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Imanio said instantly. “You don’t owe me quiet; you owe yourself peace.”
I finally looked up at him. “It still hurts… especially knowing they went off and had another daughter. But it doesn’t hurt as bad as it used to, though.”
“Where’s yo’ sister?” he asked.
“S-Still with them, f-far as I know.”
The words sat heavy between us, and for a moment I couldn’t stop my mind from drifting.
“I th-think about having a family of my own one day. I wonder what I’d do if my child came out like me—tw-witching, blurting c-crazy things and misunderstood. Would I love them the way I never got loved? Would I f-f-fight for them the way my parentsdidn’tfight for me? Or would I fall into the same cycle and b-break them the way I’ve been broken?”
Imanio stood and walked over, crouching beside my chair. He took my hand gently, pressing it to his chest.
“You would,” he stated confidently. “You already love harder than most people I’ve met. And I don’t care what your peopleback in Nigeria thought they saw; they missed out on knowing one of the best woman I’ve ever met.”
I blinked fast, jaw ticking again.
“And they’ll never deserve you. But I do,” he added.
“Is… is that your way of saying I’m stuck with you?” I sniffed, half-smiling.
“Nope,” he said, kissing my knuckles. “It’s my way of telling you I’m not going anywhere—even when you tap a beat on the table like you’re about to summon a demon.”
I laughed through a tear, nudging his shoulder. “You’re silly.”
“But you’re smiling.”
“I’m… I’m trying.”
