Debbietiyan:

Welcome

am dying for the next scene.....

princemozyk:

am dying for the next scene.....

Aww. The story would be updated tomorrow. e hear?

Debbietiyan:


Aww. The story would be updated tomorrow. e hear?

paitently waiting..

CHAPTER TEN




Hours later, I’m standing outside the gray door with the MD tag on it. I rap gently on it, and I get no response.

I lift my hand to it seconds later, and it hangs mid destination as the door opens.

I forget how to breathe. How can someone possibly still look so good after about nine hours of work?

“Please come in.” He says.

In a freaked frenzy to cover up what had just occurred, my brain goes into automatic defense mode; which translates cutthroat snob.

I clear my throat and nod a greeting to him.

He smiles in reply and extends his right hand in a ‘'welcome’ gesture.

He must be so proud of himself. He should be. No one has ever made me this anxious, angry and eager at the same time.

“You wanted to see me,” I say, walking in.

He is staring straight at me and hell would have to freeze over before I give him the attention he might so obviously be used to. So instead I look around. The neatness and brightness of his office is outstanding.

The office is painted white. The blinds are white. The furniture gives a brilliant contrast to the room. The black leather chair behind the marble-top desk. The sofa, picture frame...all black.

“I’m ready when you are.” He says smiling. He hasn’t moved from the door.

“Nice office,” I say flatly. My whole senses have been hormonally altered.

“Really? You don't think it’s too monotonous?”

It’s lovely. My favorite colour is actually black I want to say but it comes out as, “I’m pretty sure you checked with your interior decorator and it’s not like you’d change it if I say or don’t say otherwise.”

His face contorts to a frown. “I guess that was a bad start-up. Okay Anita, let us try again.”

So he knows my name now.

Closing the door, he clears his throat and stretches out his hands. “Denola.”

I count three seconds before I take it. “You already called my name.” His hands are really soft. Is that even normal?

“Fair enough. Please take a seat.” Withdrawing his hands, he puts them into his pockets (he’s putting on jeans).

In the few seconds it will take for him to get to the other side of the room. I try to scrutinize him.

He has a gangly physique and walks with an unostentatious sway; like one who is never in a hurry, and even if he were, is certain the world would wait for him.

His upper body appears longer in his tweed jacket, his shoulders look like there’d make a really comfortable head rest.
My eyes drop lower.
He turns back midway and catches me staring. I revert my gaze so fast that I'm sure that my pupils are facing opposite directions.

“Is everything alright?” He asks.

I must look like a bumbling Idiot standing morosely like a cat caught with its tail between the legs. I hope he doesn't think I was gaping at his behind. I smear my lips together and pitch my tone in what I hope is a dignifying voice.

“Yes Mr. Denola. I was just wondering why you asked to see me and what else we might possibly have to talk about that would warrant me sitting,” I incline my chin to the chairs behind his desk and which now so happens to be an inch away from him.

From his furrowed brows, I can tell he isn’t used to being objected and I wouldn't be surprised if he’d walk me out here and now.

Okay, I would. Because he has proven beyond reasonable doubts that he’s a gentleman. Imperious, but gentlemanly so.

I realize how blunt my statement sounds, so before he replies, I add. “I’m just curious to why you summoned me.” I manage what I imagine is a beguiling smile.

Although now, the reason I am here is as obvious as the fluorescent fixtures in the office. Sophia put in word.

He nods affably and sits. I walk to the chair opposite and sit too.

He starts. “It’s obvious we set off on the wrong foot but since we currently work in the same company. It's only right that we settle our differences. If there are any.” He says the last sentence, tilting his head to the left.

The texture of his voice now is somewhat different from when he spoke to us in the common room.

His expression is suddenly serious and business like. The charade of smiles must have worn him out.

I’d really like to know what Sophia said to convince him to personally seek me out.

He stares at me, obviously willing me to say something to that. I don't. And so he continues, “I want to assure you that on my part, I hold nothing against you. Our unceremonial meeting is just a thing of the past.”

I have nothing to say to that, there is just that question that has been on the tip of my tongue ever since I got that email. “Why did you give me this job?”

His eyes tighten to slits, not angry slits, confused slits because ripples appear on his forehead.

He doesn't reply, instead, he asks, “Why did you take it?”

A thousand answers come to mind, answers I know are not true. I keep mum.

“You know what, forget I asked. Thanks for coming, I wouldn't take any more of your time, Ms. Anita.”

The smile reappears, a more subdued one and it takes sheer effort for me to return the smile.

A knot ties in my stomach as our palms meet again.

“Have a nice day,” I say getting up.

“You too.”

Kusibe77, I had your correction in mind as I wrote this week's update. Thanks a bunch.

Princemozyk, Oya come and see and what happened.

I call Sophia immediately I get out of the company's gate. “What did you tell him?”

“I thought you weren't talking to me.”

I had totally forgotten about my silent treatment punishment.

“Well I am now. So, what on earth did you say to him?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Denola. I am referring to Denola. What did you tell him?”

“I told him a lot of things Nini, you have to be more specific in your questioning.”

“I just left his office. He called me up.”

She screams, “He did? Wait –wait –wait...Dad’s calling, I’ve got to pick. Come home quickly.” She says, and the line goes dead.




When I get home, I meet her crouched on the bed, her knees drawn to her chin. The creaking door draws her attention as I walk in. And her tear streaked face comes into view.

This isn't the first time I have seen her crying, on the contrary, she gives a picture to the definition ‘cry baby’ but considering I only spoke to her not an hour ago. I become worried.

“Sophia?” I ask, going over to the bed. Her sniffing intensifies. “What is the problem? Is your Dad okay?” She mentioned wanting to pick up his call.

She looks up, hiccoughing violently, “It wasn't mine.”

Her head bobs frighteningly on her neck.

“Wasn't yours? What wasn't yours?”

She pushes her IPad to me, and rolls over, burying her head in the pillow, her frame trembling with sobs.

I swipe at the screen.

Two faces stare back at me from the screen. Both wearing matching shirts and grinning stupidly into the camera. The female has her ring-fingered hand on the male’s chest. Damian’s chest.

The bastard. Anger fills me up like air in a balloon and I swear loudly. “The bloody fool.”

I take off my shoes and clamber into the bed.

“Easy pumpkin. Easy.” I say, smoothening her hair and biting my tongue from lashing out more obscenities.

This is what you get from letting your guard down and trusting too much in a guy; A pre-wedding picture of your supposed boyfriend crop up on your timeline.

However, if he thinks he’s going to get away with this, he has another thing coming for him.

More updates coming up in a couple of hours shortly

As soon as Sophia falls asleep. I pull out my phone from my bag.

Fifty swipes later, I am on the unlucky girl’s Facebook profile.

I click on the message Icon and type two words: I’m Sorry.

The perfect conversation opener. Minutes later, a notification pops up. One new message.

Chizoba Magnus: Do I know you?

Me: No

Chizoba Magnus: Then what is the sorry about?

Me: Your engagement.

Chizoba Magnus: Excuse me?

I send a picture of Damian that I have just collected from Sophia's phone.

Me: This is the worst thing that can ever befall a woman. For that, I offer my sympathies.

I block her without waiting for a reply.

CHAPTER ELEVEN




The next morning. Sophia says she's leaving. Her face is all red and puffy, and she hasn’t eaten since yesterday. Mom has already left for work and when she came home yesterday, Sophia was already asleep. So basically she has no idea of Sophia's current state and it’ll be disrespectful if she just ups and leaves.

I try to reason that with her, so she agrees to wait until tomorrow.

It’s Friday, a work day, but in her condition, I don't think it wise to leave her alone.

She once told me that the silliest thing she did was gulping down a bottle of hypo bleach after her first boyfriend died.

So, I suggest we hail a taxi to drop her at Mom’s supermarket, but I don't think she hears me over Taylor Swift playing full blast on the stereo. I give her a quick hug and tell her I’d be back soon.

I’ll just take permission of leave from Mr. Korede, and head back home.

As I walk into the room, Cynthia stares up from the table and eyes me cautiously. She wills her lips to curve into a smile and I can imagine the pain she's going through from that singular gesture.

"Good morning," she says.

"Good morning. Where are the rest?" I ask, scanning the room. I just returned from his office but he wasn't on seat. Coming here too, I meet only Cynthia.

"I only just came a little while myself. Did you meet anyone on your way up here?"

“No.”

“Oh. Okay so why are you just coming? You never come late. Is everything thing okay?”

I turn to her and stare suspiciously, is she really trying to have a conversation with me?

“Yes, everything is fine,” I reply.

“I love the caramel top you had on yesterday,” She stresses the 'yesterday’ “It really brought out your colour.”

I don't have time for this.

“Thanks,” I turn to leave.

“I think I should also complement your taste in men too.”

Where is this dragging to?

I turn. “What is all this about?”

“Don't pretend. You’re too big for that. I heard what went down yesterday. You sly thing, I didn't know you had it in you.” She bats an eyelid.
“You’re Insane.” I intone and slam the door behind me.

I stop at the passage bend, contemplating whether to take the stairs leading up to his office or down to the receptionist; It’s obvious her teeth aren't the only things ‘hanging out’ as she can't keep words in either.

I climb upwards. I take the first bend leading to his office but turn back dismayed. He still isn't in. I ring to check up on Sophia but she doesn't pick up.

I keep dialing as I take the flight of stairs leading downstairs to the lounge. They are all been diverted to voicemail.

She’s okay, probably not with her phone. I keep repeating to myself.

“Careful.” A voice calls from behind. Just as I miss a step and reach out to the handrail in a bid to balance myself.

I turn back to mumble a thank you.

“You should watch where you’re going.” He says, staring at the phone in my hand.

It’s the tenth time the line is being diverted, I can no longer hide the fluster in my voice. “Mr Korede isn't in his office. Have you by any chance seen him?”

“Not since today. Is there a problem?”

“Yes. I mean No. Not quite. It’s Sophia...” My last words come out resignedly.

“Sophia? Is she okay?”

I can't even hear myself think. I see flashes of her getting out a cup, and then I see the white plastic bottle on the bathroom floor. The sound playing in my head is the last voice-over on the TV advert of the product. Hypo go wipe o.

“I think something has happened to her. She isn't picking my calls.”

“Take it easy. Why would you think something has happened to her?”

“She was in a bad place when I left her this morning. I only came to work so that I could take the permission for a time off.”

“Come on. Let’s go.” He walks past me, and I get a glorious whiff of his perfume.

It takes seconds for my brain to register that he wants to come along with me...to my house.

“You don't have to...Mr Denola.” I say scrambling to catch up with him at the end of the staircase.

“Did you come with your car?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go.”

Debbietiyan:
Kusibe77, I had your correction in mind as I wrote this week's update. Thanks a bunch.

Princemozyk, Oya come and see and what happened.

am ikn stuck on the screen enjoying the flow...thumbs up for you..

princemozyk:

am ikn stuck on the screen enjoying the flow...thumbs up for you..

Thank you. Thank you very much (*In Johnny Bravo's voice)

Down in the hallway, Cynthia is bent over Chinonso’s table, and let me just say that If stares could kill, I'd probably be dead.
We get to where his car is parked, and he produces its little controller from the left pocket of his blazers.

The Jeep beeps in response.

It’s the same car from the first day, and my eyes instinctively sweep to the right's tail light. It's fixed but I notice a dent close to where the taillight is positioned.

I pause.

“It’s okay,” he says, noticing my hesitation. He walks over to my side of the door and pulls the handle.


Way too chauvinistic pretty boy.

“You didn't have to,” I say getting in.

It’s like he reads my mind.

“It's a habit. I do it every first time.” He shuts the door, walks to his side of the car and gets in.

I wonder how many girls he has ridden with and opened doors for.

“So how long have you known Sophia?”

“About two years now.” I adjust the seatbelt across my chest. “How about you?”

“Five years ago...I think. We met through our Dads, spent a day or two at length during their business meeting out of the state.”

Oh, teenagers on trips...alright. And absolutely nothing happened between you two? Fine...that’s none of my business. Or maybe it is...Sophia is my friend, isn't she?

“That's nice,” I say.

“It was. You know you can just adjust the tightest of that thing, right?” He tilts his head in the direction of my upper body.

I stop extending the length of the seatbelt away from my chest area. I wriggle, trying to settle in as best as I can while be bound in tethers to the passenger's seat.

“We are no longer on the express road, you can unhook it if it’s making you so uncomfortable.”

I hate seatbelts, they make me feel restrained and uneasy but I also have a phobia for driving, or being driven in a car with them. “Safety first, comfort later,” I say.

“This way.” I point to the next turn.

He nods and steers the wheel rightwards.

A classic song is playing on the stereo and pretty boy hums to it. His voice adding a certain kind of upbeat rhythm. He surprises me every minute.

“Pardon?”

“I asked what your house number is.”

“54. Just keep driving, we are almost there.”

In less than a minute, he pulls up to our fence and I jump out, I begin banging the gate for Ibrahim our gate man to come open the gate. He peeks out of the little hole and I hit the gate again.

“Ah Madam.” He says undoing the bolts and then widening the gate. I get in, pretty boy follows closely behind me. We fast walk to the entrance and for a brief second, our arms touch as mine swings backward.

“Sophia?” I scream out her name pounding on the front door.

“Take it easy,” His soothing voice says comfortingly behind me.

The clicking of keys turning in a key hole has our rapt attention. It opens ajar like it’s controlling itself and then the gap widens to reveal the person behind it.


A very okay Sophia.

She’s clutching a bunch of keys in one hand and a bowl of ice-cream in another.

She stares from me to pretty boy, and then back to me and a smile forms on her lips. Her eyes are still red but her face is completely dry.

It takes exactly ten seconds for me to realize how big of a fool I have made myself into.

Lovely story Debbie
Keep the fire burning

Wow! Interesting story.

Read more cool stories on Tushstories via

www.tushstories.com

GeoSilYe:
Lovely story Debbie
Keep the fire burning

Thank you

itsandi:
Wow! Interesting story.

Read more cool stories on Tushstories via

www.tushstories.com

Thank you. I'll check them out.

hypoo go bleach oooo

I like it.

niceeeeee one keep it up

Sophia gestures for pretty boy to come in and she leans in with her hands outstretched to give him a hug receive a hug from him. Her face is still red but the puff under her eyes seem to have gone down.

I close my gaping mouth and squeeze them into a pout. “Where is your phone?”

Pretty boy smiles. I have officially been made a laughing smiling stock.

“You friend has been worried sick.” Pretty boy offers in explanation.

“I must have left it in the room. I’m so sorry. I stepped out for a minute, that must have been when you called.”

Pretty boy reaches to touch the red bags under her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.”

Shut up, I say to the tiny voice that wishes I was fair skinned enough to look pale.

“Yes- yes. Please come in.” She says making way for him.

“He was just about leaving.” I chirp in. Did they not see me standing here?

He turns to look at me.” That's true. Now I know there's nothing wrong with you, I’d be on my way.”

“No, you won’t.”

Heartbroken or not, big baby always has her way.

It’s good to see Sophia isn't still moping around because of Damian. It’s good to see she appears to be having fun, it’s totally acceptable to see she’s doing so at my own expense. I mean, what are friends for?

“Look at this one.” She points to a picture in our (Mom's and mine) photo album and throws her head back laughing. “She was soooo eyeing the photographer.”

Pretty boy takes a look at it and I imagine he smiles, trying too hard not to laugh. But I really can’t tell staring at the back of his head.

I pace the make shift bar, clucking glass wares excessively. This is what they have turned me into. It’s not like I'm dying for their attention but I can't be in my living room and be completely ignored.

“She is very beautiful,” he says.

Sophia asserts. "Yes, she is."

My ears perk up. Who? Me? Well I know I am, it is just gratifying to know that he has finally noticed it.

He turns back, looking over at me. “Your Mom is very beautiful.”

Somewhere at a child’s party, a balloon pops. “Hmmm,” I reply.

continued plsssss

plsssssss continue am loving the story

azeezat22:
plsssssss continue am loving the story

Thanks dear. I'd love to add to that, but I currently have some other ish to settle.

mmmmh loving it...

Nice one

“Well, it’s not like I was caught totally unawares.”

“You knew he was going to marry someone else?”

“No. I suspected he was seeing someone else.”

“Why didn't you end it with him then?”

“I had no proof. I stood to be countered.”

Well, you’ve been countered all right.

She lowers herself to the bed. “I just feel bad about all the years that I have wasted on him. Three years is a frigging lot. And to think that I was faithful to him until I kissed his brother that is. Thinking of it now, I am quite glad that I did.”

“At least you’re the one who got away. Imagine getting tied to that two faced toad.”

She giggles. “Mehn, single again. I have absolutely forgotten what it feels like.” She grabs a throw-pillow from the bed and fondles it.

“You’re taking it really well Sophia. Mama has never been so proud.” I say wiping off imaginary tears.

We keep quiet for seconds. I wait for her to ask me about pretty boy. She doesn't. I bring him up.

“Aren't you curious to know what Denola was doing here?”

“Ohhh,” she replies, “he told me already. Aren't you a darling?”

“His version. Don't you want to hear mine?”

She shrugs and says, “Does it matter? He came, he’s left.”

That is unSophia and so very Anita. I am about to say so when we both hear Mom’s car pull up in the compound.

She gets off the bed first and makes her way to the door. Another unSophiac move. She never backs out of a conversation. If the house were on fire and we were asked to jump the window, Sophia would wait until we had said whatever we were saying until she’d jump.

I can't help the feeling that she’s being overly protective of him. Yes him.





If I had any suspicion about them. Sophia just proved me right.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” I ask.

Mom casts a sharp look at me. Sophia laughs. “With that tone of voice, if I didn't know you I’d have thought you couldn't wait to be rid of me, Nini.”

I lower my voice. “Don't be silly Sophie, if it were left to me, you’d stay until we are called back to school. It’s just one minute I had to tie you down from leaving the next, you’ve changed your mind about leaving.”

It's later that night, Sophia, Mom and I are all in the kitchen trying to whip up dinner. Vegetable sauce and boiled plantain. Sophia is chopping ugwu on the center table while am sitting on the kitchen slab, having just put the plantain to boil on the gas cooker.

Mom looks up teary-eyed from the onions she's cutting. “What’s all these talk about leaving? You have only be here for how many days?”

I smile. “Mom it's been three weeks,” I say.

“Is it?” She looks in Sophia direction and bites on her upper lip, “Sophia dear, try to make the spacing between each chop less generous.”

“Oh, okay aunt Tabby. So yes I think I’d stay a little while longer. Probably till dad gets back or something. By the way Nini, Dad asked to greet you. He wanted to speak with you.”

“I thought he came back sometime last week?”

“He did, and then he traveled the next day. I miss him so much if I was any younger I’d cling to him and insist he takes me with him.” Sophia says turning the ostensibly shredded content of the chopping board into a glass bowl.

“Aunty Tabby, he asked after you too.”

“My regards to him,” Mom says wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She reaches for the dried fish piled on the little saucer and starts de-boning them.

“Anita your Dad is coming over tomorrow. He wants to see you.”

“I’d be at work tomorrow.”

“Don't be silly, tomorrow is a Saturday.”

“That's true. I promised I’d take Sophia to the salon tomorrow.”

“I’m sure my hair can wait Nini.”

“Fine. I’m not sure though that I want to see him.”

“Anita, I thought we’ve been over this?”

It will be over if he stops pretending to be part of our lives.

“Mom, this isn't just about me okay? How do you think your husband to be would feel if he knows your ex-husband drops off at your house at every slight whim?”

“Slight whim? You call wanting to see his child that?”

That's total B.S. Suddenly after eight years he remembers he has a daughter?

“He could save himself the trouble as his child,” I make air quotes, “doesn't want to see him.”

Mom bites her lower lip which she does anytime she gets angry and is trying to keep her outbursts in check.

I hate that every time we’ve fought since I came back was all because of him. We only have each other, can't she see that? It pisses me off that even after what he did, Mom is still willing to let him take chances with us.

“Mom I do not want to keep fighting with you because of him. He had his chance and he lost it.”

“You know what? If you don't want him to come over, you pick up your phone and tell him yourself.”

“Why? I wasn't the one who invited him.”

“I’m still your mother and you would do as you’re told.”

“Sure Mom. If I was still five.” I say drily.

“You would not use that tone of voice with me.” She says coolly.

“Look, Mom, I’m not the same little girl I was years ago. You can't keep forcing me to do things. I am not a child. I don't want to see him and you can't make me do it. Period.”

I am tired of being the sacrificial lamb, doing things so others wouldn't get hurt, putting myself last. But no more. If Mom’s wants to keep looking at a picture that no longer exists, I won't pat her back and encourage her.

I walk out of the kitchen before I lose my temper. Anger is one suit that doesn't look good on me. I go into the sitting room and drop to the floor, tucking my legs into each other.

Sophia follows suit beside me. I had no idea she was following me.

“You can shout ehhh.” She says softly, snaking her arms pass mine, to nip at the flesh on my biceps.

I reach for the remote control on the floor, removing my left arm from her reach. She does it to tickle me and I am not in the mood to laugh. “I wasn't shouting, I was speaking loud enough for Mom to hear me, maybe this time she’ll understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Just because she has chosen to play second fiddle to him doesn't mean I will. I refuse to become his daughter only when it's convenient for him.”

“You can't become his daughter Nini, you already are his daughter. And he's probably trying to patch up things with you, like you know…make up for his mistakes.”

“Well, that’s too bad for him because he is years too late.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Matter of fact, I do. You have no idea what it feels like, do you? Growing up and thinking the world of a father and then discovering that everything he ever said was a lie. He has this other life apart from you and your Mom, always had, even when you thought it was just you. You were his baby girl and then you were just Anita, his ex-wife’s daughter.”

“It can't be any easier for your Mom. But look, she’s trying to be strong and move on.”

“Answering to his every beck and call isn't moving on, and that is what's eating me up.”

“Nini, don't you see she is more affected by it than you are? Try and put yourself in her shoes. She practically trained you out of her pocket without help from him. Don't you think she’d want to keep you all to herself but she can't, why? Because no matter what, it’s still his blood coursing through your veins. Tell me, have you ever thought about it that way?”

I stare blankly at the television screen, I guess she’s right but I wish someone could see it from my own perspective too.

“I’m going to call him.”

“Nini…”

“It’s high time we both stopped using Mom as the mediator, I’m going to call him and we are going to settle this with him over lunch.”

She stares at me skeptically. “Just the two of you?”

“Yes. Just us father and daughter.” I get up. “I’m going to get my phone. I’d be in the room.”

nice update

Wow! Interesting story. You can read other cool stories on Tushstories via

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#Click!

He picks the phone on the first ring. “Anita?” His voice is hoarse like he has a cold or something. I hear the languid accent of a foreign man in the background which must be coming from the television set.

“Yes. Mom said you were coming to see me tomorrow.” I say flatly.

“I am. It's been so long since we spoke, I’ve tried your line a countless number of times but it never goes through.”

Dad’s number had since been added to my call blacklist.

“Must be the network,” I say.

“Anita -”

I cut him off. “I was wondering if we could go out instead, probably a restaurant or somewhere really quiet. That's why I called.”

“I’d love that.” He says in almost a whisper, which comes out husky given his deep baritone. “Is your Mom aware?”

“Yes, she is. She even suggested I call you.” Which is half true. I’d probably drop a note when I’m leaving or ask Sophia to forward the message to her.

“See you then. My regards to your Mother.”

“My regards to your family,” I say, trying to sound less contemptuous than I feel.


Sophia comes up later with dinner. I want so badly to reject it but the gnawing in my stomach is murderous.

“I knew you wouldn't come down.”

“Thank you,” I say lifting the bounty from her hands.

She pulls the dressing-mirror stool closer to the bed and sits on it. “Have you spoken with him?”

I nod without looking up from my plate.

“What did he say?”

“He agreed. It's not like he could have said otherwise.”

“Have you fixed a place?” She asks reaching for a piece of meat on my plate.

“He’d surprise me,” I say batting her hand away.

“You’re going to apologize to your Mom right. She is really upset.”

I stop chewing. “Apologize for what?”

“Stop being stubborn Anita.”

“When did you start calling me Anita?”

“Don't change the topic. Aren't you at least going to tell her about the new development, even if you don't want to apologize for being a brat.”

“Says the pot to the kettle.” She reaches again and successfully steals a piece of meat from my plate and lurches it inside her mouth.

I lift the plate from the tray and huddle it to myself. “And they wonder why I am so thin.”

A phone vibrates and we both look around checking to see whose it is. It's Sophia's and she breaks into a Cheshire cat-like smile as she thumbs a reply on her screen.

Call me savage but that’s hardly the face of someone who recently got dumped.

“Who is that?”

Her smile widens. “A friend.” She shuffles to her feet without taking her eyes off her phone screen. “I’m going to watch House with Aunty Tabby.”

“Wait, who’s going to take my plate down?”

CHAPTER TWELVE




The last time I was alone with Dad was on the eve of my eleventh birthday when he came into my room and told me he was leaving. I assumed it was one of his obligatory trips and so I asked him when he would return. I wanted him to get me a new dress. The one Mom had bought was too pink and I wouldn't be caught even sleeping in it. I hated pink. He told me he would have to discuss the issue with Mom first.

I wasn't stupid. I asked him what his coming back had to do with Mom. I had heard them arguing days prior to that day and Mom had threatened to have him arrested. Of course she didn't mean it but still, he had left that day and didn't return until this particular morning. That was the only time I heard her raise her voice, till date.

He said he had sinned against Mom and I and he hoped we would find it in our hearts to forgive him. There were tears in his eyes, and soon enough there were tears in mine too. I tried wiping his’ off and he had taken my hands in his and kissed them.

I kept badgering mom for days to tell me where Dad had gone to and when he was coming back. She never said a word in reply to my questions. She always diverted and dodged the questions. About a week later she told me we were leaving the house. I asked her why, and she said Grandma needed someone to stay with her. I asked her if Dad wouldn't be sad seeing no one when he got back home and she then hugged me. For the first time, I noticed the heavy bags under her eyes.

I wanted to know what was going on and I knew Mom wasn't going to tell me. I also knew we going to stay with grandma meant she would have had an idea of what was happening and so I stole Mom’s phone and called her.
She didn't even wait to hear out who was on the other end of the phone before she started raining curses on Dad.

Her abuses contained words like philandering, liar, and hell. It wasn't rocket science to piece one and two together.

I walked into the kitchen where Mom was and asked her why Dad left. “I just called Grandma and she told me. Don't lie to me Mom.” I said. She fell to the ground and wept. I bent over her hugging her so she’d stop crying. I thought Dad had cheated on Mom with some other woman. I had already made up my mind not to forgive him. He had belittled the high esteem in which I held him. He had become like other men I had watched about on the television. Drunken men who cheated on their wives and came home to beat them up. Even though he never drank, the image I had conjured of him was him staggering and spluttering out gibberish while holding out his belt to hit our crouched figure on the floor. That was who my hero had become, a lying, family beater.

That was how I felt before Mom told me he had another family other than us. Imagine how I felt after hearing those words.

I am seated in his car and we are driving to a restaurant that I selected. The windows are wind down even though the air conditioner works and the weather is as hot as ever. I had turned down my side window when the ac was on, he hadn't asked the reason. He let down the remaining windows and turned off the ac. The truth is I am just adamant about sharing anything with him even if it’s just air.

We haven't said a word to each other since we got in. His attention has been fully focused on the road while mine is on the reasoning that kept me up most of the night. Reasoning for questions I wouldn't leave him without asking.

keeep the fire burning...