“I will kill you if you make a step out of the gate without my permission!” I wondered why this should be my mum's response when I told her about thick rancid blood coming out from my private part. She had never yelled at me like that before even when her Android phone fell down from my hand. This is how it happened: She asked me to bring the phone to her in the sitting room when it rang. She left it on the dining table after she had taken her breakfast. She forgot to take it with her, rather she carried a cup of sugarless Lipton tea. I was still eating the second slice of bread—out of the five slices—with a peppery stew of which its aroma was perceived in the cornice of the kitchen, dining room, and sitting room. She guessed that the caller would be her friend, mummy David.
When I was rushing to hand over the phone to her before the call would be missed, I fell down on the slippery black ceramic floor tiles and the Android phone somersaulted and tumbled like a car whose brake pedals failed to function and one of the two front tires catapulted out of the metal rim on Third Mainland Bridge on a Sunday evening when my mum and I were coming back from church. Each part of the phone went at different angles. Its soft screen got squeezed beyond repair as if I intentionally stamped on it with an iron boot.
She rushed to help me rise to my feet. She didn't blame me for how my carelessness made me fall on the same ground I stroll on every day. She was concerned about my injured knees. Though it was two weeks after she bought the phone that I unconsciously transformed it into pieces, to the extent that not even the touchpad was repairable. She didn't let out a bellow of rage nor were signs of anger spotted on her charming face that she had enhanced and beautified with her expensive make-up.
“Don't allow your male schoolmates to touch your school uniform, not to talk of your hands; because if they do you will definitely die!” she screamed angrily. I couldn't sleep that night as I lay on my one-sided bed staring at the ceiling. I've never thought for once that something could prevent me from entering the slumber land in the night. I was struggling to find a link between the inevitable and uncontrolled blood that I was trying to explain to her, the restriction from getting out of the compound, and the presumed untimely death that could happen due to being touched. I couldn't find a perfect answer. I tried to recall everything that had happened in the day, perhaps I had offended her in any way unknown to me.
“Why would I die from being touched? How would I tell my male friend, Bayo, to refrain from holding my hands? I shouldn't have told my mum about this painful blood that could lead to my death”, all these questions and regrets were ringing like a bell in my skull and kept me awake till I started nodding off around 4:30 am.
Yesterday night was very long and not splendid. My eyes were like a halogen lamp for two-thirds of the night until I finally slept off. I was having a nightmare of what my mum told me; how I fainted, as prophesied by mom when Bayo mutually greeted me by shaking my hand. I felt terrified as I woke up and heard her peacock voice, singing different kinds of birthday songs. It was 8:30 am. My heart was restless throughout the night; it was gripped by paranoia to the extent that I unwittingly forgot my birthday when the reminder alarm was ringing to my deaf-mute-like ears at 12:00am.
“Temitope, my daughter! Happy birthday to you, dear. I wish you a long life and prosperity. From now till forever, you shall be blessed by the God almighty. Jesus’ name! Amen! Get up, take your shower, and let's go out shopping”, said my mum after she had prayed earnestly for me.
“I've even forgotten that today is my birthday, which has never happened before,” I whispered to myself. I wore a smile like a morning sun as I was dressing up. The joy of turning fifteen and how mummy had promised to buy a phone for me when I would be fifteen momentarily made me forget the nightmare I had. Her prayers, supplications, and blessings had wiped out the fear of the Grim Reaper from my heart and soul. The dark sky had metamorphosed into a wide blue yonder.
“Temmy, are you ready? Asked my mum as she entered my room without knocking. That was not the first time she would enter my room without knocking. Many times she had warned me not to lock my room even if I was not going to be at home.
“Yes, mum!” I replied with a smile.
The following day was a sunny Sunday. I woke up late because my birthday party lasted for hours, which made me a bit tired. I couldn't follow my mum to church for Sunday service. Though, she dropped a note—when she didn't succeed in waking me up—telling me to meet her at the church.
I woke up healthily. My instinct was murmuring to my ears to stay at home and seize the opportunity to get to know my new phone very well by pressing it. Moreover, the church was far away and felt like I couldn't go alone. Thank God, mummy had already done the chores.
I still felt bored when there was nothing left to do. Then I remembered that my mum has a diary which she had warned me repeatedly not to be near. To weed out the aged curiosity, I rushed to her room and picked up the diary. I discovered that my mum had my pregnancy from her first sexual intercourse with her boyfriend a week after her first menstruation, and the pregnancy was denied by her boyfriend—my supposed father whom I was told was dead. I couldn't hold the flow of my tears.
When my mother got back from the church, I confronted her with a series of questions before she could say anything. I had never dared to look into her eyes before but this was beyond my control. She had to lead me to my father.
By P-Seven
Comments