COMING OF AGE

“Grow up”… the two words my mum always used to say whenever I messed up, and trust me she used those words a lot. I wasn’t a spoilt child, neither was I rebellious… I was just different. For as long as I could recall, I preferred trousers or shorts to skirts or dresses, I never wore makeup, (not that I needed it seeing that mum had passed down her Cinderella genes to me), I preferred male company as opposed to my fellow females. Given my athletic and natural beauty, several of my teachers and family friends had tried to get me into modelling, but despite the endless extra hours I put into practicing posing and walking techniques, I could never seem to fully ‘pop’ as my modelling coach had put it. In addition to this, some of the clothes we modelled in made me feel…naked, to say the least.

Once I joined junior high I decided to finally take control of my life and do what I wanted for a change, which meant ditching the dresses, the countless bottles, and concoctions of makeup (though I did retain a few tubes of lipstick and glosses) and to crown it off I joined the girl's rugby team. That last part had almost given my grandma a heart attack. “My princess why do want to get yourself involved in that barbaric sport?” she had lamented once news reached her ears. She was not the only one who doubted me, as some of my teammates had brushed me off. “Too pretty” “Are you sure you want to break your nails?” “I give you a week then it’s back to the runway” were some of the jabs that had been sent my way after I enrolled.

It seemed that the only one who kinder believed in me was my couch, Mrs. Robert. “You have the heart kid, we can always work on the physic and fitness levels but we’ll see whether you can get up after several hard knocks” she had said after our first training session. In the end, I proved all of them wrong, not only could I take a hit, I became good at giving out several of my own. I not only became the youngest captain but also managed to lead the team to three back-to-back national championships winning a total of four major cups in five years. The cherry-on-top came in my final year, where I was voted in (unanimously voted in, if I may add) as the MVP in the senior games.

All my exploits in the field had not gone unnoticed as in that same final year I won a rugby scholarship in New Zealand. To be honest of all my achievements in high school, winning the scholarship had been my most memorable. Despite being a beast on the field, I felt like an ant in class. I wasn’t dumb nor did I struggle to comprehend want we were being taught, I just…wasn’t interested. Classwork never seemed to click with me, and to be honest I had never envisioned myself doing a nine-to-five.

Growing up I wanted to be one of two things… a chef or a boxer. Both heavily revolved around my dad. You see, my dad had been the one who understood me the most. He always seemed to know what I wanted, when I wanted it, and just how I wanted it. He was more than my father, more than my dad, he was my best friend. The moments we shared in the kitchen, cooking God knows what were some of my happiest moments growing up. Those moments had inspired me to want to become a chef and later on open my restaurant.

  “Am going to be your head of marketing and strategy. We are going to make sure that the whole world knows that my daughter has the best restaurant” he had said one day

  “Am going to be the best chef in the entire world, am going to make you proud dad”

  “I will always be proud of you princess”

  “Always?”

  “Always” 

  My dad had been my hero, to me he didn’t have any faults, any blemishes, he was invincible, or at least, that was what he portrayed when we were together. The boxing part came a year after he passed away, cruelly taken away by cancer. As a young child I never quite understood what cancer was though I knew my dad was fighting it. After he died I had snuck out of our house and gone to the police station to report that ‘Cancer killed my dad’ and that ‘I wanted the police to arrest him or her’. 

When it seemed that no one was willing to listen, I decided to take matters into my small hands, deciding then to become a boxer when I grew up so that I could avenge my dad. Having had no-other siblings my dad had taught me to be tough. “Always be prepared for anything…no monster can hurt you if you lock eyes with it and face it head-on,” he told me the same statement each night as I went to bed. Armed with this I slept soundly at an age when most kids would jump out of bed screaming at a reflection on the wall.

Two months before he died, he started taking me to a local rugby field each day after school, we ran across the tattered grass until his lungs couldn’t take it. 

  “What’s wrong?” I would ask

  “Nothing” came the always ready reply 

  “We’ll see how fast you’ll move when you’re my age princess” he would say with a strained laugh after noticing my concerned look. After our usual runs, he would sit me in the middle of the field and say “Princess, one day I won’t be here physically but I want you to know…I will always be with you…any time you feel lost, I want you to sit outside and stare at the clouds…if you see them moving, just know I am close by watching and hearing your every wish or desire.” He told me this every single day for those two months before he passed away, I was ten years old when the Man upstairs called my dad home.

As a kid, the story of moving clouds was enough to get me through, and even now as a young adult, I still stare at the clouds whenever am nervous. My mum, however, was no child. She had been fully aware of what was happening. If I viewed my dad as an unmovable hero, my mum saw him as her knight-in-shiny-amour, her guide, her rock during the troubled times, her blanket during the cold nights, to say she adored him would have been an underplay. His death was a pill she found very hard to swallow. Dad had been the only man in both our lives, the magnet that kept our family together, without him, we felt like a vessel without a compass. She tried hard to fit in dad’s shoes but to be honest, I doubt that any other man could do it, let alone a woman.

The ‘grow up’ comments became the order of the day. She didn’t mean any malice…she just wasn’t dad, she didn’t understand me. I didn’t blame her though I didn’t understand myself. I was into my teens at this point and from my clothes, to how I carried myself I was completely different from most other girls. This put a strain between my mum and me, so much that I chose to go and live with my grandparents. My decision to play rugby had almost sent my mum through the roof. Where I saw a sport, she saw all the injuries that could come my way, what felt like a true calling, to her felt like an act of rebelliousness on my part. In moments like those, I wished dad was there, telling me to be strong, to face every obstacle with unwavering courage, and most of all that he was proud of me.

Despite my high school having a plethora of games, I never really understood what drew me to rugby. No one in my family played it, perhaps it was those few months with my dad in the local field, running around tossing a ball at one another or we can just choke it up to me trying to pave my path, away from what people thought a ‘normal’ girl should do. I arrived at Auckland University in New Zealand on a snowy Saturday. Given that I was raised in Texas practically all my life, and the only time in which we left the state was for games, I was excited to start a new life in college and in a new country. My grandparents had accompanied me throughout the whole journey, my mum didn’t come, it had taken some real convincing from grandpa for her to even come to the airport. In her eyes I was leaving her, she had lost the love of her life and now her only child was packing her bags, ready to put an ocean and thousands of miles between herself and her mother. My mum looked like a shell of her former self, from a lady who radiated youth and energy, she now seemed way older than her age. She had simply lost the urge to live.

  “Don’t worry princess, we’ll take care of your mum. Just go and live your life” my grandpa had said as we stood right outside the entrance to the campus. My grandma proceeded to perform her usual ritual of asking the heavens to shield and protect me from the ‘evils’ of the world much to the shock of the other one-lookers.

I was more embarrassed than shocked but despite this, I thanked her and gave her a big kiss. I had grown a lot closer to my grandma since my dad’s passing…just like my dad, she also understood me. 

  “Now I know you think that classes are boring but do try to pay attention, it would pain me to see you dropped from the rugby team just because of your grades” grandma had said giving me a hug

  “Aah, so you do like seeing me play, I thought you considered it a barbaric sport?”

  “It has gotten you this far my love, and besides I realized that you're just like your dad, once you’ve got your mind set, it’s hard to change it. Did I ever tell you that when your dad was little I never wanted him to have any cookies…I always thought they were bad for his teeth, well your old man decided that if he wasn’t going to get them from me, he would get them from somewhere else, that summer holiday he went round the neighborhood mowing people’s lawns and instead of being paid in cash he asked to be paid with a small jar of cookies…by the end, he had twenty jars.”

  “Jesus…what did he do with twenty jars?”

  “He ate every single one of them, then spent the rest of the summer with the worst sour throat he had ever experienced. Your dad was never a quitter, he would have his way, and no how many times life knocked him down he always got back up… just like you.”

  “When I come back home for the Christmas Holidays you have to tell me more stories about dad”

  “It’s a date. I’ll see you soon princess, I love you”

  “I love you too grandma…and you too grandpa”

Granddad just grunted a response, unlike grandma and me, he was a man of few words letting his actions and demeanor guide him and those around him; a true gentleman

  “Oh and princess…”

  “Yes grandma”

  “Make sure you bring a decent girl when you come home”

  “I will” 

 I stood at the campus gate and watched them get into their cab and speed off. It’s only now as I sit outside trying to finish my assignment that I remember that grandma said ‘bring home a decent girl and not boy’

  “You know one of these days you’re going to have to tell me what you see in the clouds, Becky.” Claire interrupted my gaze.

  “Just looking for inspiration”

  “Well look no further my dear, be inspired.” 

  “Ummh, I don’t think it’s working”

  “Give it a minute… it's coming”

  “Nope, it’s not”

Claire was my classmate, and despite our different personalities, we had hit it off from the very first day. From her icy eyes to her greyish hair, to her tall legs she had an aura about her that I couldn’t get out of my head. She was also on the rugby team but a year ahead of me and killing it in her classes, yet despite this, it felt like I had known her all my life.

  “I don’t think you need inspiration…you need a miracle… if at all you want to join the team in the opening games” she said sliding next to me making my whole body tense up.

  “If you want Becky, I can help you wrap all this up… I have to say it will be boring going around the country without you on the team bus”

  “What will it cost me?”

  “Not much…just a coffee.” She said tracing my skin with her finger.

  “Ok” I replied trying to avoid her eyes

  “Ok…what?”

  “Help me finish this and I’ll owe you a coffee”

  “No…first you get me that coffee then, I help you”

  “C’mon Claire that’s not fa…” our eyes locked. As much as I tried to pull my gaze away, my neck just wouldn’t turn and for some strange reason I couldn’t close my eyes

  “What’s not fair…huh?” she said gently digging her finger in my ribs. It took all my energy not to burst out laughing.

  “Stop…Claire…stop” it was no use she had me pinned.

  “Coffee then assignment yes or no?” she was now tickling me mercilessly 

  “Ok, fine coffee then assignme…CLAIRE STOOOOP!” she suddenly stopped and I realized that my head was on her chest, I quickly sat up. Claire had a cheeky look in her eyes.

  “What?” I asked half giggling

  “You look really pretty when you smile.”

I was tongue-tied. Never had I been shy nor reserved, but around Claire, I could never find the right words… I could hardly find any words at all.

  “Becky…” her hands were angling towards my ribs again

  “Thanks…ummmh…you look cool”

  “cool? What does cool mean?”

  “You look beautiful”

  “and…”

  “I’ll buy you two coffees and then we’ll do the assignment” I was trying my best to wrestle her arms. She finally stopped then slowly inter-twined her fingers with mine and started leaning in, my back was on a tree, I was not going anywhere.

  “Claire…ummmh”

  “What…”

  “There are people around us”

 “I thought you didn’t care about other people”

  “Yeah but…ummh”

  “ummmh what Becky?” she was inches away, my mouth had gone dry and I was struggling to breathe

  “Claire” I was whispering at this point

  “Library, one hour, don’t make me come looking for you” with this she stood and disappeared among the flock of students. Strangely enough, no one had seen our little session, I quickly took in deep breaths trying to figure out what had just happened, glancing at the sky, I noticed that the clouds were moving faster than before…it was going to be a long year.