Chapter 2: you’re going back
There I was, laying in my bed, unable to move a bone. To any other person this may sound like a frightening experience, but not for me. I had lots of experience with this actually. I had been frozen to my bed so many times before that it was becoming almost normal. Almost. Of course, not literally frozen, but seemingly incapable of mustering the energy to do anything at all.
I had been experiencing these “Freezes” for a few years at this point. They had started just after my fourteenth birthday. I could remember the first time vividly. I was being shaken by my mother, trying to wake me for my morning chores. A tall figure had been peering over my mother’s shoulder. He was darkness, a silhouette. He wore a large bowler hat atop his wide face. He had a single source of light emanating from him: a red smoldering cigarette between his fingers. I wanted to call out and warn my mother, but my lips were sealed, my skin glued to the sheets.
My mother didn’t seem to care however that there was a large unknown man behind her, instead she was focused on getting my ‘stubborn’ self out of bed, pulling at my arms, threatening extra chores. My mother had spent a long half hour tugging at me before she finally gave in, mumbling something about silly rebellion, I was in my early teens after all. As she turned to leave the room I knew she would finally see the figure behind her, but instead she ignored him, acting as if he weren’t even there.
I lay there in bed, frightened and wondering why my Mother had abandoned me. But truthfully, my mother had no idea that the man was even there. In her brain, she just wouldn’t be bothered to fight her rebelling teenager all morning. Truthfully, I had not been rebelling, I was, in fact, just experiencing a new frightening thing: Lethargy. The dark feeling of inactivity and hopelessness that I would soon become very familiar with—that, and a creepy chainsmoker in the corner.
and now, I was no longer a fourteen year old girl that my mother could just write off. I was sixteen, and while I still had strong feelings of hopelessness, and my friend still there, puffing his cigarette, watching silently from the corner, I also knew that my mother was going to make my life miserable if I didn’t at least muster the energy to pull on some jeans and eat some breakfast. And so, I had taught myself to pull myself up from the darkness that clouded my mind and roll out of bed. Interestingly, as I stood, the man smoking a cloud in the corner always seemed to disappear.
I know my mother always had great intentions, however, her methods of motivating me always drove me crazy—and for that reason, they were also very effective at getting me to at least feign interest in the life that my mother had hoped for me. I slid out of my bed and pulled a gray T-shirt over my bonnet covered head. “Isatou?” I heard my mother calling, Just as I had expected.
I would sometimes feel guilty for the lack of interest in my mothers ambitions for me. After all, she had given her whole life thus far to give my sister and I opportunities that she herself had never been afforded. “Isa, I made breakfast, and we need to have a talk.”
Great. A talk. I spent a moment wishing that my mother would just explain things immediately instead of starting with the dreaded pre-cursor “We need to talk.” It honestly made me feel more uneasy than if she would just spring whatever news she had on me.
I grabbed my camera, a few rolls of film, my bulky tape recorder and my favorite pen off my dresser, quickly stuffing them into my small bag. I expected that we would be getting to our lessons fairly quickly. I could only imagine that that was — at least partially — the reason for this early “We need to talk.” My mother had been homeschooling my sister Mia and I for as long as I could remember, but lately I had been slacking off with my studies horribly. It wasn’t fair of me, really. My Mom didn’t give me a lot of assignments in the first place. Most people probably wouldn’t have even considered it proper ‘schooling.’ But for me, it felt like unnecessary busy work. I would much rather be spending my time looking through a lens, investigating the world around me. It was one of the few things that got me moving and excited. I felt like I actually had some type of talent in it and I had no doubt in my mind that my purpose in life was to be documenting, with a lens, and a pen.
I made my way down the hall to the kitchen. The room was warm as I entered. My mother had been preparing a lavish breakfast for a while. I could tell because before I even left my room I could smell the familiar aromas of my mothers fantastic cooking. It smelled like Christmas mornings, warm hugs and laughter—or rather, bacon, eggs and hashbrowns. I made my way into the bright kitchen expecting a warm hug from my mother like usual, but instead I was met with a stern but sad gaze from across the kitchen table. My mothers hands were clasped tightly together, knuckles red. This wasn’t anger that I was observing however, instead, worry, sadness or fear. My little sister, brown eyes leaking was latched onto my mothers arm. “Mom?” I inquired worriedly. “Isa, you need to get a bag together,” my mother looked down at a neatly folded letter on the table, “We’re leaving soon. You’re going back.”
Back. I knew what she meant. I personally had never been to school, but my mom always talked about how my eldest sister had once attended school, so for some reason that meant going ‘back’ to school for us as well. I knew what she meant, but I couldn’t help myself from confirming, “Back?”
“Back to school Isa. You need to get some things together.”
I could suddenly feel my stomach in my chest. I had never been to a state school before. My mother had threatened to send me ‘back’ whenever I was being particularly difficult to teach at home, but I never expected she would actually do it. She always talked about how Dad would have died before letting that happen. Not that he was around to care. “Mom,” I said softly, “I’m sorry, I should have been studying harder. Ill catch up.” Truthfully I knew how far behind the average student I was, and that thought was enough to make me nauseous.
My mother hadn’t looked up at me yet. I could tell she was feeling guilty about all of this, but I also knew how stubborn she was and it was likely she had already made up her mind. But that wasn’t going to stop me pleading my case.
“I promise, no more missed assignments, and ill help out more around the house.” I could feel the emptiness of my promises as they left my mouth. This was not the first time I had said things like this. My mother and I both knew how difficult I had been making things.
“Isatou, this isn’t about your missed assignments, baby.” I could hear the pleading in my mothers voice at this point, hoping she wouldn’t have to fight this with her stubborn child.
“Then why?” I asked desperately, hoping this was my mother giving into my pleading.
“here,” She pushed the folded paper across the table to me. With a closer look i could now see a pressed seal through the backside of the letter. “They hand delivered it this morning.”***
They? I picked up the note and unfolded it reluctantly.
—
As of September the 17th of the 2006th year,
Adolescents aged 6 and older must report weekdays to an assigned state school or state approved private facility.
It has come to our attention that this household has registered 2 adolescent occupants as ‘homeschooled’ and therefore has been marked for transfer.
As per the presidential decree, this household has been assigned a state school. If the household so desires, it may contact the local chancellor for a list of approved private education facilities.
compliance is mandatory,
Signed in proxy,
President William F. Montgomery.
—
I let the letter fall to the table with nothing to say. I could feel my eyes welling up, so I turned around and made my way back down the hall to my small room. As much as I could feel the dread settling in, there was no blame to be had here. There was no point in arguing with my mother, because this was not a choice that she had wanted to make after all. I slowly shut the door behind as I entered the room. Turning my back to the door, I fell face forward into my warm and inviting bed.
