The Road That Leads To You

CHAPTER TWO

"Arrrggh!” A piercing scream woke me up from sleep, it was my mum's voice. I ran out of my room and I saw my father on my mother, tearing her clothes apart and cursing her.

I froze, I never knew it was that bad.

“Stop!” He didn't, he just continued cursing, tearing and hitting her face.

I jumped on his back, wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled as hard as I could. He shook me off like I was a feather, I fell. I stood up quickly and picked the aesthetic vase on the table in the kitchen and I smashed it on his head, he fell and passed out. I was able to save my mum from his madness. I took her to Father Ezekiel's house and when he saw my mum, he didn't look surprised. That's when I knew that he knew what was going on. He took my mum inside, gave her his clothes to wear and made her coffee.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I asked, when he came outside.

“Tura dear, it was never in my place to tell you about your father's darkest side. She made me swear not to tell you about it, she knows that you'd dislike him because of the life he has chosen for himself. Your mother was afraid that if she told you about it, you'd hate him forever.”

“Why does she care so much about what I think of him? Why does she want me to love a man who brings nothing but pain and chaos to the ones he is supposed to protect? Why does she hate herself?” Something in my head went “snap” and tears began to pour from my eyes like a fountain. I weeped for my mother and I weeped for me.

When I had calmed down I asked Father Ezekiel, “Why didn't you save her?” He looked at me, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Tura, you-” I didn't let him finish.

“Tell me why? I know you love my mother, she was your girlfriend back then.”

“That was a long time ago, Ketura, we were teenagers.”

“Uncle Ezekiel, that's not a valid reason!”

“Ketura! Sssh, you'll wake your mother.” He sighed and continued talking, “I am a priest now, I am a servant of God and a follower of his commandments. I teach his people his word and I guide them in their journey of service to God. It is expected of me to walk in righteousness, a lot is expected of me and if I fall what shall I tell my flock?”

“What do you mean Uncle Ezekiel? What has this got to do with saving your friend, whom you love, from danger?”

“I begged your mum to run away with me Ketura, I had booked flight tickets for the three of us already. That's how ready I was, ready enough to leave everything and everyone behind.” he stopped to examine the impact his words were having on me, and then continued, “I was willing to commit a grave sin for love Tura. Your mum declined, she reminded me who I am and said I had no business running away with another man's wife. I never brought it up again, it's been fifteen years now.”

I sat there, on the bench in the veranda, as quiet as the night. There was nothing to say. I had nothing to say. Uncle Ezekiel and I sat there in silence for a while when he broke the silence.

“It's almost seven o'clock Tura, you have to go home and prepare for school.”

“I won't be going today, I don't feel like going. I'm tired.”

“Tura school is very important, you know.”

“I just witnessed my mum being maltreated and abused, cut me some slack. No school today.”

“Where are you going?” He inquired as I stormed off.

"Home.”

“Okay sweetie,” he said, “your feelings are valid Ketura but remember to use your head always. Don't act on impulse, I love you.”

“I love you too.” I said, inaudibly.

I knew Miriam would call me a thousand times. I never miss school even when I'm under the weather, I always show up. I like studying a lot and acquiring knowledge but that's not the only reason I show up unfailingly. School was my escape, it was the only place that I could forget my problematic life for a while, it was the only place I could hide my fears and vulnerability. I texted her everything I wanted her to know on SMS and I switched off my phone. I just wanted to close my eyes and drift into the land of temporary silence.

I slept for two hours and I still felt like I was drowning in a deep sea. My eyes were swollen from crying, my face was as red as bell pepper and my legs were numb. I pulled myself out of bed and I headed to the kitchen, I needed coffee. Right there, in front of the sink stood my father; cigarette in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

“Where is your mother?” He wore a clueless expression on his face and it was red and swollen from excessive drinking. My tummy ached, my head spun and my lips trembled as I tried to suppress my anger. I wanted to use words that would be as sharp as a two-edged sword, words that would pierce his ego, words that would make him go nuts, but I controlled myself.

“She's not coming back, Mark. I won't let her come back.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I will send her far away from here, far away from you and your madness.”

He laughed. A strong, wizzy and mocking laughter.

“She cannot leave me, that's what you can't understand. She is bound to me, for life.”

I looked into his eyes and triumph enveloped me. I saw fear, I saw the panic in his eyes, I could see that he had realized that he has lost his grip on my mum. Religious blackmail was all he had left in his bag of tricks.

“What will the church say?” He asked, forcing a smile on his face, “They will condemn her for leaving her marriage for a priest. You think I don't know that your mother warms the cold bed of that so-called priest? I know these things! I see them but I say nothing.”

“You saw nothing Mark. You can think what you want, you can tell every soul who cares to listen to your side of the story. All I know is this, my mum will never return to you.”

He charged towards me and grabbed my neck.

“Who do you think you are to interfere, huh?”

I kicked him on his bad knee, he let out a painful scream and he let me go. I ran outside, locked him in and I called the police. Fifteen minutes later they arrived, I opened the door and my drunk father tried to escape but he was caught and brought to the station. There, I filed a restraining order against him; he wasn't allowed to come near the house, my school, my mother's workplace and business, Father Ezekiel's house and his church. Father Ezekiel joined me at the police station thirty minutes later. After chatting with the policemen who were in charge of the case, we went back to his house. On the drive home, I kept thinking about how my father didn't hesitate to hurt me, how he did it with swiftness and intention. He knew what he was doing when he grabbed my neck and he definitely knew what he was doing when he continually hurt my mum. Although he was drunk during the act, the fact that he showed no remorse and accountability after he reached sobriety, proves beyond every reasonable doubt that it was all intentional. I told Father Ezekiel to drop me at Miriam's house.

“I'll be spending the night at Miriam's uncle, please tell mum.”

“Okay sweetie pie. Do you have any clothes to wear there? You have school tomorrow, you know.”

“I'll wear her clothes, Uncle Izzy.”

“Okay baby. I'll bring your school bag to you in the evening.”

“Thank you uncle Izzy. Bye.”

I got out of the car and walked towards Miriam's house. I guess she must have seen me through the window because she ran out to embrace me. Her warmth felt like a cozy fur blanket on my skin and her whispers of assurance made me feel safe.

Miriam has been an important part of my life since childhood; we were born in the same hospital a day apart, we attended the same schools, did everything together, and even when I thought that distance would tear us apart, it didn't. Miriam isn't just a best friend, she is a sister and would always be a sister.

Miriam's parents are not always at home. Mr and Mrs Smith are estate developers, thus, they travel frequently, leaving Miriam and her nanny as the only occupants of the house until their return. Miriam became independent at an early age, just like me. The only difference is that she didn't become independent because of lack, fighting parents, or fear. She became independent because of her physically absent parents. Miriam's parents showered her with love and care, even when they were away for work, they called her on Zoom every evening, unfailingly. I admired how much they loved her and I was grateful because they extended that love to me. Every Christmas, Miriam visits one country of her choice for a vacation that would last for two weeks. I went with her, always. Our closeness and bond is something more than magical; it's surreal, it's heavenly and it's the best gift the universe ever gave me.

Miriam held my hand and led me to her room.

“You should bathe, I made pancakes for us. We'll eat when you've freshened up. Oh! We'll watch movies too.”

I smiled weakly, I was happy that she cared about me, I was happy that she was there at that moment but I was tired, too tired to make any facial expressions.

I stepped into the bathtub and sat in the water. I scrubbed my body like it was covered in mud. In that moment, I forced myself to believe that if I scrubbed hard, the heavy weight that sadness and pain had put on my heart would become easier to bear.

When I was done scrubbing to my satisfaction, I rinsed the foam off my body and dried myself. I opened the wardrobe in her walk-in closet and chose pyjamas to wear. Miriam came in almost immediately after I was done dressing.

“Hey, Tura.” She stopped, she didn't know what to say to me. Her beautiful eyes were filled with tears and she wore a warm look on her face. She took a deep breath and continued talking.

“Tura, I can't take away your pain, or wear your shoes, or live a day in your life, but I see you Tura. I see you, and I promise you that you're not alone, you'll never be alone.”

My heart stopped beating, the hairs on my body dilated and tears overshadowed my eyesight. Miriam hugged me so tight. She didn't need to say anything anymore, her love had already broken my walls, found its way through my darkest nights and healed me.