In her family, Rylee and her grandmother had to have everyone beat on the loudest duo in the house but not for the right reason. They happen to butt heads so often, the remaining members assumed the two did not get along. The arguments between them always started small–a simple disagreement about Rylee’s tone or her grandmother’s insistence on doing things her way. These misunderstandings that developed into yells echoing in the house would urge others to say; “Why can’t you two just talk without it turning into a fight?” But none of them understood. This was not about disagreeing or hating each other. It was something far deeper, tied to the threads of what bound them together. Her grandmother’s name and the reflection of herself she saw in Rylee.
Back in her golden days, Rylee’s grandmother was not known as a mere family figure, meant to showcase heritage or a title of some sort. Her given name, Solace, happened to be a perfect fit for her character. At least, the one she appeared to be when not around the stubborn Rylee, who had the chance of adopting her grandmother’s name as a surname. At fourteen, Solace’s granddaughter stands not just as Rylee Presley but as Rylee Solace Presley.
Perhaps this shared name has been the poison for the two individuals all along. Just yesterday, Grandmother Solace had scolded Rylee with an unexpected harshness for doing a task she had asked the girl to get to. Her words, a pure bullet, had pierced deep through the teenage girl’s heart as they always did. Though the elderly woman was patient and soft with the other members of the family, there was no hiding the strictness she stood firm on around Rylee. But with her raised voice, Rylee had fought back with no hesitation. Her voice had also risen, defiant and sharp, as if she was trying to prove that she was no longer a child (although fourteen is the true age of immaturity). However, through her loud words, all it took was one look at her grandmother’s face for her to abruptly stop.
Grandmother Solace, though her emotions could be felt from her voice, never seemed to be able to display them on her aged face. So, it surprised Rylee when she was able to guess how she felt without needing any movement from the elderly women and without even needing to hear the sound of her voice. Her expressions said everything. She had a frown that creased her face into a thousand lines, each of them telling a story of her life. Eyebrows furrowed and eyes–usually stern–glossed over with something Rylee couldn’t quite name. Sadness, frustration, or perhaps disappointment. Whatever was displayed on her face, it hit Rylee like a violent wave. The anger that had previously bubbled in her chest suddenly evaporated, leaving behind nothing but a hollow ache.
When the night came that day, Rylee proceeded to replay their arguments in her mind. Still able to hear her grandmother’s voice repeating words she hadn’t wanted to hear. Still able to picture her trembling hands, fragile and hesitant as she gestured, frustration etched into every single movement. The regret then, started to settle in Rylee’s being but this hadn’t been the first time it had done so. This is an endless cycle, one she ought to put an end to.
When morning came and Rylee did her daily room checks out of curiosity to see who happened to be awake just like herself, she peeked her head into Grandmother Solace’s room. Expecting to find her deep in slumber, her grandmother was awake, struggling to get up which caused Rylee to go in and help her.
“Well, you’re up early,” Rylee said with a soft voice given the time of the day.
Grandmother Solace replied in her native tongue which confused her namesake as her words were fast and slurred together. Rylee could only find herself stumbling through a response, piecing together phrases she could remember. When her grandmother frowned and cupped her ear, she proceeded to repeat her amateur response, louder that time. By the fifth attempt, the elderly woman had nodded.
Rylee followed her to the dining table where she sat idly while her grandmother was brewing herself a cup of tea.
Times like these were when grandmother Solace reminisced on her quiet mornings during her younger days. Dazed, she sat down at the table, sipping tea and nibbling on a toast she had quickly made. Sitting next to each other, the two let silence envelope them. Shoulders and knees touching as they stayed motionless. Then, the usual happened. Rylee’s grandmother handed her phone to her, asking her to desperately help her navigate through a few apps. And during this, she leaned closer, watched, and the two have never been so quiet around each other. When Rylee had finished helping her, she gave a small hum of approval before rising from her seat to start on the dishes in the sink.
“That’s my chore,” Rylee said, standing to stop her grandmother.
“You’re just a kid.” Her voice radiated a comfort and warmth that almost startled the girl next to her.
“And you’re just a granny,” Rylee shot back with a small smile.
Their low and short laughs filled the air and for a moment, they no longer stood as the stubborn granddaughter and the equally stubborn grandmother duo. Grandmother Solace’s raised voice was not a way to diminish Rylee but a warning for the girl to not make the same mistake as she once had. The nights Rylee spent replaying each and every one of their arguments was a time where she let herself feel for the both of them. But through all this tough love, one thing had always been certain. They were simply two people who cared for each other in the only way they knew how.
This is a cycle Rylee ought to put an end to and as it goes, she hopes to change one of its courses. She knew her grandmother always let the arguments go–as did Rylee. She also knew that she would always find her at the dining table, sipping tea, and waiting for her arrival because even when the bad moments seemed to consume it all, these quiet mornings were needed resets for both. Tough love and a name, a reflection of them.
Anthonella Bitoka is a Junior at Ulysses S. Grant High School, a Congolese girl of numerous linguistic abilities. Living in the Valley, she's caught between doing it all and doing nothing. Her days are filled with music that makes her ears bleed and overflowing school work. She's figuring her life out, one beat at a time. Maybe she's ahead of the race, maybe she's not.
"Bentley Tea Cup" by snap713 is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
