I glance at the girls playing in the sandpit when Jasmine reaches them and leans over the sandpit and rips Marley out by her arm. “What have I told you, Marley? You know you’re not to get too close when she hasn’t got her gloves on! How many times do I have to keep on telling you?” Jasmine scolds her daughter.
Marley seems confused and visibly upset as she looks down at Marabella. Shocked at my friend, all I do is stare. Marabella looks up at Jasmine and quickly hangs her head, reaching for her gloves. A move that makes my heart squeeze as if she feels like Jasmine just accused her of being a monster.
“I’m sorry, I will put them back on. It’s just that the sand is hard to play with when I wear my gloves,” Marabella tells Jasmine, who nods, turning to look down at her. A sad, guilty smile appears on her face and her cheeks blush.
As much as I understand the concern my friend has for her child, as I watch the heartache on Marabella’s face, it makes my blood boil.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean it like that.” She tries to lessen the damage that she has already done, but it’s too late.
The way Marabella has closed herself off and shut down is upsetting to see.
“Then how exactly did you mean it, Jasmine? I could only interpret one meaning of what you just said,” I remark, unable to just sit by and do nothing.
“Kat, come on. You know better than anyone else what I mean. You promised me that she would have her gloves on. That is the only reason I even let Marley come. Now I will have to…” Shaking her head, she trails off and exhales. “You know what, never mind. I really can’t do this right now. Come on, Marley, we should head home,” Jasmine says, tugging at her daughter’s hand and rushing off up the side of the packhouse.
Marabella looks down at her hands, a small frown on her face, before glancing back at Jasmine and Marley’s retreating form. Her lip quivers and she shakes her head, clenching her hands into fists.
“Marabella?” I murmur, and she looks up at me. Her gold eyes brim with tears.
“I wasn’t going to touch her, momma, I promise,” she whispers.
“I know, sweetheart, you did nothing wrong,” I tell her.
Eziah reaches over and grabs her hand, and I see him squeeze it and give her a small smile. “It’s okay, sis,” Eziah tells her, and she pulls her hand away and nods. Eziah looks at me, and I sigh.
“I will start making lunch. You guys carry on playing until then, okay?” I tell the kids with a small smile. Despite what has happened, I don’t want to ruin the rest of their afternoon.
“Ok, momma,” Marabella replies, crouching down by the end of the sandpit.
I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead before turning away and walking back inside. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as she slips her gloves back on and moves to sit next to the sandpit to watch Alicia and Eziah.
I will deal with Jasmine later. Marabella did nothing wrong, and I really don’t like how she reacted in front of my daughter. It irritates me that everyone is so frightened by her; she is only a child.
Fear makes people respond in different ways. I understand that and as much as I hate to admit it, Marabella is treated differently by most people. It can’t be helped, and I try my best to lessen the gut-wrenching blows, when parents say no to letting their kids play.
After the first few times, I learned that Marabella would ask to have a playdate and be all excited and ask me to ring their parents. But when they refused, the look on her face would always break my heart, so I stopped asking in front of her anymore. After a while, she herself stopped asking. That hurt more than I could put into words.
That was why I felt relief when Alicia’s mother agreed for her to come over.
I didn’t particularly like her mother. She is pretty rude and doesn’t seem to differentiate between being too nosy and just plain rude sometimes, not to mention that she is also a big gossip. If you want the entire town to know something, all you have to do is mention it to Ayla, and that will guarantee it will be around town by the end of the day. And a more elaborate, exaggerated version of what she was told.
Walking inside, I grab the bread from the pantry distractedly and begin to make sandwiches for the kids. My own mood is gloomy after what just happened.
If I am feeling like this, Marabella must be feeling far worse, but she always keeps it inside. Hearing the front door open, my heart skips a beat and I’m relieved when I smell Ezra’s scent waft to me, signaling his presence. Finally, he is home.
I have barely turned around, ready to greet him, when Marabella suddenly rushes inside, startling me, as she rushes past me and nearly knocks me over in the process. Alarm rushes through me when I realize her face is streaked with tears.
I glance through the window, and I can just make out Eziah, yelling at Alicia. I take off after Marabella. She races down the hallway beside the stairs, only to run straight into her father, the impact making her tumble backward and fall onto the ground.
“Woah, what’s going on?” Ezra asks, crouching down next to her as he helps her up.
As soon as I get a better look at Marabella, I instantly notice that she is covered in sand. Ezra brushes it off and gently grips her arms.
“Hey, what’s wrong, baby?” he asks again, but Marabella shakes her head, crying uncontrollably as she tries to pull away.
“Marabella?” Ezra asks just as the front door opens, and Mateo walks in, saying something.
His words cut off when he spots our daughter crying. “Bella, what happened?” Mateo asks, stopping next to Ezra and peering down at her.
“They all hate me. Everyone hates me,” Marabella cries.
“Who hates you? Nobody hates you, baby,” Ezra tells her, a frown creases his brow.
I chew my lip, watching on with worry surging through me. This isn’t the first time Marabella has broken down over her gifts. I can’t even blame her. The way she is treated only adds to her stress.
“Everyone. I am a freak, a monster! I don’t want this!” she sobs.
“Don’t say that. That is not true,” Ezra scolds her.