Sally was squatting underneath the thatch-roof patio. Her reddened and swollen eyes were a clue to her insomnia. So, she buried her yo-yo hair between her knees. She lifted her head after picking mom’s footsteps. “What’s wrong?” asked mom, rubbing her scruffy hair.
“The results will be out today,” Sally grumbled. “You were bragging the exams was peanuts,” mom said, popped eyed. “The multiple choice questions were easy to guess,” Sally said, sipping her salty tears. Mom whizzed into the living room like a ground squirrel.
“The results are coming out today,” she announced, resting both hands on her waist. “You took her for a paternity test?” Dad yelled, splashing the steamy tea against the wall. “Stop it, she’s your daughter, look at her pencil-pointed nose, she looks like your great grandma,” mom said, lowering her voice. Dad marched towards the patio.
“Sally did you go for a pregnancy test?” he asked, removing his crocodile skin belt. “God forbid,” Sally whispered, snapping her fingers. “Why did you throw up in the bathroom?” dad quizzed.
He sunk to his knees, and looked into Sally’s drowsy eyes. “Positive or negative, I’ll accept the results,” dad blindly swear. “Which results?” asked mom, choking up the doorway. Sally looked at her mother’s pink face, and at her father’s blushed face. She grasped that everyone was expecting different results.
“Which results are better, positive or negative?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders. Mom and dad expected her to throw tantrums. Instead of answering her, dad dashed to the steel drawer and mined out a paper. He swayed the paper towards Sally’s dozy eyes. Instantly, her eyes journeyed to the words HIV negative.
A smile and a nod from both Sally and her mother quieten down the tense morning. “If your pregnancy results turn out positive, then we’re money-wise finished,” dad said, digging out his yawning wallet and jingling the five cents.
The Motorola phone beeped, as the AS-level results screened up. The three bumped their foreheads, while pressing their eyes next to Sally’s name. Three Cs and 3 Us.
“I passed!” Sally screamed, skipping over a jumping rope. Mom continued scrutinizing the results, while Sally clasped her dad’s sweat-soaked hands.
“The Cs are from my DNA,” mom said, chuckling. She was a Grade 3 school dropout though. “And the Us?” asked Sally, before daddy dumped his finger on her lips.