HIM
As she stepped out of my house, I wasn’t sure how I felt at that moment. I didn’t know if I was angry or sad. But one thing was certain – I was tired of everything. I was done trying to impress Bright and John. They weren’t even the best at keeping women, so why was I allowing them to dictate what I did with my life.
Just then, I heard my phone ring. I thought it was Mary. She probably wanted to inform me she had gotten home. To my surprise, it was my father. I wondered if I should pick it or not. For some reason, I was scared.
My father has a third eye. He somehow always knew when something was wrong with all of us. He must have seen something. The phone stopped ringing. Trying to run from my father is like running from your own shadow. It’s impossible. I knew I had to call him back, and so I did.
“Motijolaoluwa,” Only he called me by my full name.
“Hello Daddy, good evening.” I smiled as I replied.
“How are you doing today? How was your day?” He asked me.
Over the years, I have learned that every question my father asked was intentional. His questions were always leading somewhere, so lying to him was not a good idea. But today, I had to. My father should not know what his son has been up to. I couldn’t tell him where half the money he had been sending as my allowance was going and what was done in the house he had rented for me.
“I’m fine, dad. I was out for a while, but it began to rain, so I had to come back. I rested a bit, and now I’m up doing some stuff. I’ll be going to bed soon.” At least I didn’t lie, just curved the truth and omitted some things.
“Well, I didn’t expect you to tell me the truth. I just called to tell you about a dream I had,” he said.
This was the third eye working. I was in trouble. I knew better than to argue.
“Okay sir,” I said.
HER
As I looked out the window on my way home, I knew that one of two things would happen to me tonight – either I die before I got home, or I get home, and I die. What exactly was I going to tell my mother? That her daughter slept off in the house of a man and came back late? I knew that I could not lie; that’d be a greater death sentence.
The taxi stopped right in front of my house, and the gate was closed this time. I did not know if it was locked or not. I contemplated asking the taxi driver to take me to his house. I was so scared. As I tried to open the gate, I realized that it was locked, which meant I had to ring the bell. I went ahead and rang it two times. I heard a noise from inside. Someone was coming to open the gate.
“Mary, is that you?”
It was my mother. She sounded so worried. I had focused so much on how I felt, thinking she was going to kill me, without considering that she might be worried that something terrible had happened to me.
“Yes, mummy, it is me,” I replied softly.
My mother tried to open the gate, but she seemed to be finding it difficult. I heard her calling out to my father to help her open the gate. My father opened the gate, and I was greeted with the warmest embrace I have ever received in my entire life.
With tears in her eyes, my mother kept repeating the words, “Thank you, Jesus.”
I was so overwhelmed by the events of the day – the conversation with Jola and my mother’s reaction – that I began to cry.
“Mummy, I am so sorry I came home late. I did not plan to. I am really sorry,” I said.
“It is fine, my dear. Just come inside. It is cold outside here,” my mother said as she moved me to come inside the house.
When I got inside the house, I could see worry plastered on everyone’s face. I think my father had even cried at some point. Everyone was silent, I knew they expected me to say something, but I did not know the right words.
“I am so sorry for coming home late. I did not intend to. It just happened. I am sorry for making you worried,” I muttered.
“It is fine.” It was my father who spoke this time. “Go and rest. We will talk better about this tomorrow. It is already too late.”
My mother agreed with him. “Yes, that is true. It has been a very long evening. Goodnight everyone, we shall talk tomorrow.”
HIM
My father began, “I saw a cub, a very fine-looking one at that. One day that cub left the pride. I think he tried to find his way back, but he could not. He was alone for a very long time. The remaining lions saw him leave, and they tried to call him back, but he couldn’t hear them or see them. They tried so much, but this cub did not notice them. One day, the cub met some huge dogs. These dogs seemed so nice to him. They gave him food to eat and water to drink. The cub felt so comfortable amongst them, and for a long time, it was his home. But something happened. The cub began to grow. He soon got hairy, and he started to roar. The dogs were so afraid, and they asked him to be quiet. They told him his roar was a symptom of a terrible disease. They asked him to cut off his hair also. Do you know what the cub did?”
“Errmm… No. What did he do?” I asked.
“Well, he complied. He shaved his head, and he was about to do something very drastic before I woke up. Do you know what that was?” He asked.
“No sir,” I replied.
“This cub who was already growing to become a lion was about to remove his vocal cords. This lion was about to sign a death sentence. He would not be able to roar ever again. Is that not a very stupid decision?” He asked again.
“Well, yes. That it is a foolish decision,” I agreed.
I did not know where he was driving to yet, so I was careful with my replies.
“But you cannot blame him, can you? He asked me.
“No, as long as he remained amongst the dogs, whatever characteristics of a lion that he expressed were going to be odd. He did not want to feel different, so he had to conform.” I said, showing that I was following him.
“So what would you advise that the lion do to remain a lion?” He asked me.
“I think he has to leave the dogs. They might end up killing him,” I replied.
“It gives me so much pleasure that you are getting it. Jola, I want to ask you, what are you doing with the dogs?”
HER
I sat on my bed. I don’t know if I was too scared to sleep or I had just slept too much in Jola’s house that I could not sleep again. It was already 6 am. My mother was always up before 6 am, but she might probably still be in bed considering that she slept late. I was wrong. I heard a familiar knock at my door, and I knew it was my mother.
“Mary, I know you are awake. Open the door.” She said softly. Judgement day was here.
“Okay mum. I am coming,” I replied as I moved to open the door. “Good Morning, mum,” I said as I let her into my room.
“Morning,” my mum replied as she sat on the chair in my room. “I hope you have slept well?” she asked.
“Yes, I did,” I replied.
“So Mary, tell me what happened yesterday. Nothing but the truth, please. You know how much I despise lies,” she said.
I knew I had to choose my next words wisely and truthfully at that same time.
“I went to my friend’s house, and I slept off there. When I woke up, it was already very late. I did not mean to stay out late.”
“So, who is this friend?” She asked.
“You don’t know him. His name is Jola. I originally did not plan to go to his house. We planned to go to the park, but it started to rain, so we went to his house since we could not stay outside,” I could not look at my mother’s face as I said this.
“Okay, why did his family not remind you to come home early? Or why did he not wake you up or something?” she asked.
“Because he stays alone, and he was also sleeping.” I was getting closer to the part where I was going to die.
“Interesting, so you went to a guy’s house and slept off there. Not just that, he was also sleeping. Am I correct?” She asked.
“Yes ma,” I replied.
“And who is this guy to you?” She asked.
At this point, I said my last prayers. “He is my boyfriend.”
Josephine
Omo!!😂😂. Next one!!!!!!!! I wanna see if this is gonna give an African mother vibe or not
Helene barthe
I am telling you😄😄
Deborah Abimbola
Eisshhhhh!!!
WORTH AND STRUGGLES (Pt. 5) - ABBA's Dwelling
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