Every Love I Lost

“You bastard! How dare you call me an unfaithful wife and mother?” my mum shouted at the top of her lungs. “In your life, don't ever call me a bastard again, especially when you know our kids might hear you!” my dad fired back. “I only asked you to be a little more present in your children's lives, spend some time with them, and learn a thing or two about them,” he said. “Oh, so my modelling career and businesses don't deserve my attention?” she shouted. “You don't expect me to be present twenty-four seven! I mean, we have maids for crying out loud. If the maids can't take care of them, then what's the point? I can't spend the time I'm meant to use running my businesses and attending my modelling shoots taking care of them. You don't expect me to become a housewife, do you?” “Nobody is asking you to become a housewife because, if you wanted to be one, you would have been one from the start of our marriage. And like I said before, I'm only asking you to be a little more present in their lives, especially now that they're still little.” “Yes, we provide all the things they need. We shower them with all the toys, gifts, and luxuries any child could ever ask for, but they also need love from both of us,” my dad said in a slightly low but firm tone. “You can preach all you want. I don't care! Because I know this is just another one of your tricks to stop me from achieving my dreams and building my career. Those girls are old enough to take care of each other. They don't need my presence or so-called motherly love to live their childhoods and lives to the fullest. So, stop all this talk about my presence being valuable to them. The maids are enough!” my mum said in a harsh tone. “You know, I never expected you to be this cold and heartless towards your own children. I don't remember this woman standing before me being the same woman I married!” He paused briefly before continuing. “It's just not possible. How can a woman abandon her own children because of her so-called modelling career and businesses? It's just so unheard of. “If I had known you would behave like this, I wouldn't have introduced you to the modelling agent back then. In fact, I wouldn't have even thought of marrying you in the first place,” my dad stated in a harsh but calm tone. “Hahahahaha!” My mum laughed hysterically before speaking again. “Wait, oh! So, you think it's because of your connections that I got to where I am today? You must be deceiving yourself! “And was I the one who begged you to marry me in the first place? Weren't you the one who always came looking for me, telling me how much you loved me and couldn't live without me? “Or do you think that because I chose you to be my husband, it meant other men weren't there for me to pick from? “See, let me burst your bubble! Before I even knew someone like you existed, other men who were richer, more handsome, and had more connections than you flooded my doorstep every day! “So, don't start feeling all high and mighty, telling me you wouldn't have married me. Let me tell you something: if you like, divorce me today! You'll be shocked to see the number of men who will rush to have me!” she said proudly before hissing at my dad. “Mtcheew!” My dad stood up, looked at my mum, and said, “I never imagined you to be this kind of woman, but that divorce you're looking for? You won't get it. “It's your choice to make whether you want to be present or absent in your children's lives, but let me tell you, there will be consequences.” After that, he simply walked out of the room. This wasn't the first time my parents had quarrelled or fought with each other. In fact, it happened as often as their eyes met. But this was one of their most heated and longest arguments yet. I had gotten used to their arguments, but my younger sister hadn't. She always cried her eyes out whenever they fought. She would beg me to intervene and tell them to stop, but that was never the case, as talking things out as a couple was never an option. My name was Chizaram, Zaram for short. I had two siblings: Chimamanda, Amanda for short, who was my younger and only surviving sister, and Chinemerem, the oldest, whom I had no memory of. I only knew her name because of a family picture I had seen. It led me to ask the maids in our home who she was. I was never able to ask my parents about her since they were hardly ever around. Besides, I didn't want my question to lead to another heated quarrel between them. However, I always kept that particular family picture close, especially since it was the only one with my older sister in it. I'd always wanted to know more about her and why my parents never mentioned her to Amanda and me. I tried several times to ask the maids for more information about her, but they never agreed to tell me anything else. We were born to wealthy, high-class, socialite parents who always left us in the care of our maids. Although my father tried his best to be present, the love we yearned for was never truly there. We lived in a huge mansion in one of the most prestigious parts of Lagos, Ikoyi, around Banana Island. We had all the things money could buy, with maids waiting on us hand and foot. We also attended one of the best private schools you could dream of going to in Nigeria, where white teachers taught students and foreign students attended as well. Our father was Mr. Tochukwu Lawrence, a big oil tycoon, a well-known political figure, and the owner of T.L.C. Logistics. Our mother was Mrs. Tochukwu Fraya, a woman of mixed Nigerian and German heritage. She was a popular and well-known international supermodel who owned her own brand, FAY Wears, as well as several boutiques. And I wouldn't lie: her beauty was more than captivating. It made me understand why my dad had fallen head over heels for her. After the fight between my parents, our dad came downstairs holding a suitcase. It was the first time something like this had happened, and the moment my younger sister saw him, she started crying. “Daddy, are you leaving us too? Are you going on a long trip like Mummy? When are you coming back, Daddy? Daddy! Please, answer me! This is the first time you're doing something like this!” my sister said, trying to hold back her tears as they had already started streaming down her face. Meanwhile, I stood there, bracing myself for what my dad might say next. “Zaram, Amanda, sit down. I'm going to be gone for a while, but I promise I'll be back. I'm just going to clear my head for a while. Promise me you girls will behave well while I'm gone.” “Yes, Daddy, I promise,” Amanda said through her tears. I nodded and managed a faint, “Yes.” Then he stood up, wiped my sister's tears, instructed the maids, and waved goodbye to us. But before he left, he said, “Remember to call.” While my younger sister was still crying, our mum came downstairs a few minutes after my dad had left, carrying two huge suitcases. “I won't be back anytime soon,” she said in a low but harsh tone. Then she left. It wasn't the first time she had done this, so I was already used to it. I simply stood there as my younger sister broke down into uncontrollable tears, asking me why Daddy had copied Mummy and left us in the care of the housemaids again.