Monday. She stared at the banana right before she left for school. Green and solid.
“What are we looking at?” her dad said.
“The banana,” she proclaimed.
He looked at her with a weird look. “Why? It is just a banana,” he replied.
“Bananas ripen so slowly but when they do, they only last for a day or two,” she stated.
Her dad stared at her for a few seconds. “You know I never thought about that, and I never thought I would have until you brought that up. You act just like your mother. She was a weird soul just like you,” he said.
“I loved mom. I miss her," she said sadly.
Monday, eight years ago today. This was the day her mom would not come back home. This was the day her mom would take her last breath. She was just as happy as she was any other day. She looked and acted normally. This was until lunchtime at 12:35 PM. She was walking to go get some water from the fridge and as she took her first step she collapsed. She grasped her chest and yelled of a tightness in her chest. Heart attack. She knew immediately what it was. She sprinted towards her mom and looked up at her dad. He just stood there. She yelled for him to call 911. He didn’t. He just looked. He looked for what felt like hours. He collapsed onto his knees. She yelled at him to call 911 again. He shot up and called. It took them sixteen minutes to get there. Sixteen minutes that her mom was unconscious on the floor of their kitchen. Sixteen minutes that her dad and her waited by her side until they couldn’t anymore. Sixteen minutes that she was on the ground and couldn’t smile like she did everyday of her life.
“Anyways enough of your mom. Your sister is coming Wednesday for Christmas so get your bed ready for her to sleep in. Also, you need to look up nursing schools because it's your junior year. It's time for you to start looking,” he said and walked out of the door.
She did not want to be a nurse. Her sister is a nurse and thinks that it is in the family blood for me to be one. Her mom was not one though. She was a teacher. She cared for her children which is something that she felt her dad didn’t at times. It hurts when he compares her to her sister. He does it all the time. He did it at her birthday dinner. The one time she thought she was safe from his thoughts. She just got a boyfriend. He said her sister never had a boyfriend in high school, and I exclaimed that I am not her. I am me.
Tuesday. The banana was still green and hard. Yesterday went by slower than ever. English went by slower than ever. She thought the bell would never ring. She poked the banana. It had this aching loneliness attached to it. There was only one banana left because her dad took the rest to work. It had her name on it because her dad asked her if she wanted the rest of them and she said yes, obviously, but he only left her one. He was scared her sister was going to eat it so etched in the lime green casing was her name in bold print. She only ate bananas for breakfast and her dad knew that, so she just had to starve until lunch. Wednesday. The banana was green but still not ripe enough to eat it. She was mad at this because she wanted the banana now.
“Still not ready yet?” her dad uttered as he walked into the kitchen.
“It is almost like the banana, and you are teasing me at this point,” she explained.
“You know it is funny because all the bananas at my work are ripe,” he laughed. His laugh got on her nerves. It was a snarky laugh like a hyena.
“Get your bed ready for tomorrow,” he stated. He walked out of the door before she could say any kind of remark back to him. She hated it when her sister came home from college specifically because she had to leave her room for her sister to have a place to stay. Her dad said it was because she had a tough time at college and needed to relax on her bed and not on the uncomfortable couch. Her dad has no idea what she is going through at school. School felt like the only place she could get away from the awful comparisons. School was hard this year because she had 4 AP classes and 2 Dual Enrollment classes. She wanted all A’s just so her dad could say he was proud of her, but she knew that it was not going to come out of him anytime soon. She knew tomorrow would be the day to eat her banana. It was not the day.
Thursday. Yellow. But not the yellow she wanted. She wanted a yellow that was not green. This yellow was still green. Tomorrow is Friday. The last day until Friday.
“Good morning dad,” she said.
“Good morning kiddo,” he said as he grabbed and packed his lunch.
She wanted to say what had all been on her mind with her mom and her sister. She has tried many times to confront him about it. They never worked though. She went to the freezer to grab her frozen lunch for the day.
“Be quiet. Your sister is asleep, and she needs her rest,” her dad said.
“Hey dad I have a question. Why do you care so much for her, but you never care that much about me?” she blurted out. She did not mean to say it harshly, but it just came out.
“I don’t. I care for you both the same.” he said.
“It doesn’t feel that way though. I must sleep on the couch when she comes home even though it is my bed and my room. It feels like you like her better than me,” she said sadly. He went to grab a chair and sat down.
“You act just like your mom. Do you know that? Your mom left the pact we made when we got married. We promised never to leave each other, and she did. She left me all alone. She broke the pact. Your sister acts exactly like me which is why I favor her so much. Your mom’s eight-year death date was Monday and it hurt seeing you and sometimes it hurts being around you because all I see is her,” he said.
"I wish you did not see me like that. I am your daughter, and I always will be no matter what."
“I wish you did not see me like that. I am your daughter, and I always will be no matter what. I love being like mom because she was such an amazing person. She knew when to make people happy and she knew when people were sad. It was her superpower to cheer people up. I miss mom just as much as you do but even if my sister acts just like you shouldn’t be a reason you treat me differently,” she said. He stared at her for a few seconds and got up and hugged her. He didn’t just side-hug her like he usually does. He hugged her.
“I am very proud of you,” he said and grabbed his lunch. He was gone. He disappeared. Just like the day did. The day went by slowly like usual, but she could not wait to get home.
This week has been the slowest week of her life. Exams are coming up and she was stressed. Her only hope for this banana was tomorrow. Her last full day before exams. Friday. She walked into the kitchen in the same place she had been standing for the past week.
“Finally,” she beamed. The banana was yellow. It had bruises on it. It did not have those yesterday. Thursday went by fast, thankfully. My dad walked into the kitchen one last time. He saw me grab the fruit and start to walk away.
“It is about time,” he said.
“I know. It has taken it so long to develop. This week has gone by so slowly though,” she exclaimed.
“Have a good day kiddo,” he said as she walked out of the door.
She felt complete. She spoke the truth just like her mom did. She knew her mom would be proud of the person she grew into. The eight years that passed were just a test to see if she could ripen. She finally felt like she did.
