PLEASE DON'T HIT ME

almost time

That night, I didn’t sleep well. Every time I closed my eyes, those words on Daddy’s phone flashed in my mind. I miss you. Same time tomorrow?

By morning, the thought had taken root, growing branches in every direction. I kept wondering who sent it? Where was “same time tomorrow”? And why did he hide it from Mama?

Mama didn’t notice my distraction at first. She was in the kitchen, pounding pepper in the mortar, her wrapper tied high around her waist. The rhythmic kpok-kpok-kpok echoed through the house.

“Mama,” I started, leaning against the doorframe. “If somebody dey do something wrong… and you see am, you go talk?”

She stopped pounding, wiped sweat from her forehead, and looked at me carefully. “Why you ask?”

I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

Her eyes narrowed, like she was trying to read the truth in my face. “Christy, sometimes… you gats wait for the right time to talk. If you rush, e fit backfire.”

Her words stayed with me even as Daddy came into the kitchen a few minutes later, already dressed for work. He barely glanced at Mama before saying, “I go reach late today. Make sure food dey ready when I come.”

Late. My mind jumped. Same time tomorrow.

I studied his face, trying to find something different there. But Daddy’s face was always the same hard, controlled, like a wall you couldn’t climb.

After he left, Mama sat down heavily on the small stool, her shoulders drooping. “Christy,” she said quietly, “we go need to talk to Aunty Rose soon. I think say she fit help us.”

I felt a small spark of relief. “Help us how?”

Mama didn’t answer directly. She just looked towards the gate. “Not here. Not now.”

The day dragged on slowly. I tried to focus on my chores, but my mind was split between Mama’s quiet plan and the message I saw on Daddy’s phone.

By evening, my chest was tight with curiosity and fear. When I heard the familiar rumble of his car at the gate, my stomach flipped.

He walked in carrying a small nylon bag. “Where’s my food?” he barked.

Mama moved quickly, but as she passed me in the corridor, her eyes met mine just for a second. And in that look, I knew she was ready.

Ready for what, I didn’t know. But whatever it was, the truth was coming, whether we were prepared or not.

That night, the air felt heavier than usual. Even the generator’s low hum from the next compound couldn’t cover the tension floating around our sitting room. Daddy ate in silence, his eyes fixed on the television, though I doubted he was really watching the news.

Mama moved about quietly, collecting his plate as soon as he was done. She didn’t speak much, and neither did I. But my ears were sharp, waiting for anything any clue.

Around 9 p.m., his phone buzzed on the center table. He picked it up immediately, glanced at the screen, then stood.

“I get small work to finish. No wait for me,” he said, grabbing his car keys.

Mama just nodded, her face blank like she’d been practicing for years. But as the gate creaked open and his footsteps faded, she turned sharply to me.

“Christy, lock the door.”

I obeyed, my heart thumping. She pulled out a small phone from under her wrapper — one I didn’t know she owned and began typing fast.

“Mama, whose phone is that?” I whispered.

She didn’t answer directly. “We no get time. Tomorrow, we go meet Aunty Rose. Before that, I need you to follow your papa small. See where he dey go. No talk to am, no let am see you. Just look.”

My mouth went dry. “Follow him? At night?”

She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Christy, sometimes to escape lion, you gats first know where e dey hide.”

Sleep didn’t come that night. I kept picturing Daddy’s back as he walked out the door, wondering what I might find if I trailed him.

The next evening, Mama’s plan unfolded like she’d been rehearsing it for months. Daddy left earlier than usual, muttering something about meeting a client. Mama gave me a small torchlight and a folded piece of paper.

“If you see danger, no try be hero. Just write down where you see am go.”

I waited a few minutes before slipping out through the small side gate. The street was dim, but I could still spot the back of his car up ahead. My legs moved fast, keeping to the shadows.

He stopped at a junction, waited, then turned into a narrow street I’d never noticed before. From there, I slowed, careful not to make noise.

When he finally parked, I hid behind a kiosk, peeking. A woman stepped out from a small shop with bright red curtains. She was smiling the kind of smile that didn’t belong to someone just selling goods.

Daddy got out, and my heart dropped at what I saw. He hugged her. Not a quick, polite hug. A hug that told a story all on its own.

My legs felt weak. I wanted to run home, to unsee what I had just seen, but I stayed, my fingers tight around the torchlight.

That was when I heard a voice behind me.

“Christy… what are you doing here?”

I froze.