“prompt- Alter a Memory (IV)“

“My daughters are the raises of sunshine that brighten my days,” my father would always say with an elongating ‘D’ sound and a proud smile splattering across his face. He wanted me and my sister to know we were loved. My sister’s name is Obinna, to the abhor of my extended family. Despite being a name reserved for boys, my father said it was the only name for her. I was named Dike because that is what my father needed to face his family’s invasive pleading for him to have a son.

The recess after my first sex education lesson, where we learned about the essential functions of sex organs, was spent among the girls discussing the time we were in our mother’s wombs. The fact that we have no recollection of this time did not deter our belief that we built our traits there. Our logic wasn’t sound but concrete. We rehashed the stories we had heard, hoping to understand our blueprints. We conclude that our mom’s cravings have to be our favorite food, the age our moms had us will be the age we have our first kid, and our mom’s dominant emotion is the catalyst of our temperament.

I didn’t know what my mom’s domain emotion was. I pondered with the girls what it could been. One girl said boredom since I tend to be in everyone’s business; that made some laugh. Another girl said pride since I was always the first to finish the timetable but made the same mistakes. I clarified that I only made three mistakes, which is still an A. My rebuttal united the girls on the proud prediction. 

I headed home that day, determined to prove them wrong. Instead of the usual afternoon greeting, I greeted my mom with the question I could not answer. I settled next to my mother in the center coach while my dad decompressed from work, laying flat on the living room floor. I was sure she would say excitement about the anticipation of meeting me, which would explain why I go hard on my interest. I have seen every version of Boys over Flowers and have all the manga chapters. But because my sister failed to be a boy, my mom had additional pressure from the family to ensure I was my dad’s first son. So she carried me, full of stress and anticipation, waiting for my birth to set the family’s expectancies. My face fell on hearing another way my gender caused hindrance.

“We drop our foolish wants when we hold you,” my father added to the story after seeing my reinforced frown lines. He hopped up next to me and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“At least you came out as I thought you; you look like what my daughter would,” he added, tickling a smile out of me.

“Are you serious?” My sister, Truth, appears without warning, bringing intense heat to our chattering and giggles.

Her words grabbed our eyes. I watch her tears form, and her lips tremble in a slow past beat. My parents froze in place while I was washed away by confusion.

“Wh… how can you always say that?” Her voice exposed her determination, but the goal remained unclear.

The room stood in silence. We froze in time, waiting for additional clues to understand My sister’s eruption. But like how she entered, she left with the same abrupt force, leaving us with bated breath. I turned to my father’s face for guidance, but he tucked his head down. I watched his eyes glade from side to side, looking at nothing and playing back his words to try to find where he could have hurt his child. I removed myself from his arms and followed my sister’s trail to our room.

“What is your problem” I stop the door from slamming and push through.
“must everything be about you”

My sister tossed herself onto her bed like a rag doll scalped to hear me. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling with tears overflowing; a few escaped her face.

**To be continued**