Forgive me, if you can

Just Another Friday Morning

>

Morning arrived at its usual pace.

Almost too normal.

The kind of morning that pretended nothing unusual had happened the day before.

Friday.

Finally.

The soft glow of sunlight slipped through the curtains as I got ready for school, moving through my routine almost automatically. After showering, I slipped into my school uniform, perfectly pressed and crisp, the result of our laundry maid’s obsession with flawless ironing. Not a wrinkle in sight.

Everything looked too neat.

Too organized for how messy life actually felt.

I tied my hair into my usual packed ponytail and grabbed my bag before stepping out of my room.

The elevator doors slid open downstairs with a soft chime.

And almost immediately aunty Tracy walked past me.

Freshly dressed. Too cheerful for someone who had spent the previous day kneeling and crying dramatic apologies.

“Good morning, Zara,” she said lightly before pausing mid-step. “I’ll be taking you to school today, so be quick with your breakfast.”

The words landed strangely.

Not rude.

Not warm either.

Just oddly familiar.

Like someone trying too hard to settle back into a role they had temporarily lost.

Before I could even respond, she hurriedly walked past me.

Absentmindedly, I made my way toward the dining area, still replaying yesterday’s weirdness in my head.

The dining room carried its usual morning scent of toasted bread, fresh tea, and something buttery floating lazily through the air. I pulled out a chair and sat quietly, barely paying attention as breakfast was placed before me.

Miss Bose emerged from the kitchen, this time wearing a smile that softened her usually busy face.

“Good morning, Miss Bose,” I greeted.

“Eh, my pikin, how your night?” she asked warmly as she poured freshly blended yoghurt into a glass, adding crushed cashew nuts on top.

My favourite.

I smiled slightly.

“Good,” I replied, already halfway through a mouthful of food.

As I ate, my thoughts drifted back to yesterday.

The young man.

Now that I thought about it…

Wasn’t Miss Bose the one who had brought him into the living room before everything suddenly turned serious?

I had tried listening in, but Mum had sent me away before I could figure out what was really going on.

I hesitated.

Tempted to ignore it.

Then curiosity won.

“That young man…” I started carefully. “Eh… the one who came yesterday, was he....”

“Oh!” she interrupted almost immediately, smiling sheepishly. “Na my son, Michael be that.”

Her smile widened instinctively.

The kind only mothers gave when talking about children they were endlessly proud of.

“Uh… okay,” I nodded slowly.

Michael.

Interesting.

“I be wan suggest say make my son dey drive you go school and bring you back ,” she said. “But madam dey doubt am small.”

I looked up.

“Your son?”

“Yes now,” she replied, her tone softening. “E don finish school. Very intelligent boy. But as this country be…” Her voice dropped slightly. “No work.”

I paused.

Well that sounded exactly like Mum.

She had little soft spot for helping people, even if she rarely admitted it out loud.

Still I thought about Aunty Tracy.

About the lies.

I wasn’t exactly interested in sharing a every day school ride with her.

And besides, Mum clearly had a packed schedule. There was no way she would keep driving me every day.

Then there was Mr Charles.

I still hadn’t heard anything from him.

No calls.

No explanation.

Nothing.

Which, knowing Mum, definitely meant she was annoyed. Maybe even done with him.

“I’ll talk to her,” I said finally.

Miss Bose’s face lit up almost instantly.

“God bless you, my pikin,” she smiled.

After finishing breakfast or at least enough to match my mood. I pushed the plate aside and stood.

No point pretending to finish everything.

Grabbing my bag, I headed outside to wait.

Because one thing was certain there was absolutely no way Aunty Tracy will be taking me to school.