My Mother's Boyfriend

BETWEEN LOVER AND LOVE

Chapter 4

My mind raced. My veins were inflated. My lips shook uncontrollably. Dad, Mom and Frankie remained silent. They all glared at me.  My dad sat expectant. I wondered if he was pretending or just being the calm him.

“You would do yourself great honor if you ran to the kitchen and prepared for your dad his pudding!” Ranted Mom.

“Wait, you wanted to say what?” Dad cut in.

Hell was about to break loose and I was the Satan here. The custodian of the keys of hell. Hell fire raged in the chambers of my heart. My eyes were downcast. I clenched a fist with my right hand and held it in my left arm to try maintain a humble posture. And as if to unlock hell’s fury, I turned the fist in my left hand palm. If not today, there would be any other day to stop this madness.

“Tyra, look at me.” Uttered Dad.

“Honey, you need to calm down, relax. I can help you prepare another pudding for your father.” Declared Frankie with wide arms.

I lifted my head and locked eyes with Frankie. He was sitting at my father’s usual official position in the house. What a hypocrite! He projected the innocence of a man of cloth in the house of a conflicted family. He was the saint. He sat there with the posture of a pope bearing in his hands God’s forgiveness. My heart agonized at his pretense but shrank at the looming fight I wanted to cause. My mother moved. She sat next to my father and held him by the shoulders.

“If that is how you are going to embarrass us before visitors, then I’m not shocked. Speak” She sighed!

“Oh my God!” I wondered. She was so innocent.

“I don’t want anyone to be eating my father’s food.” I stammered.

“I am very sorry...” jumped Frankie. He stood up abruptly and feigned sorry. The way he sprung to from that chair, it is as if I held him down until I diverted the focus of my mind.

“I don’t want to hear it.”  I interrupted and dashed to the kitchen.

Tears welled in my eyes. I saw blurred images in kitchen shelves staring me. The utensils seemed disappointed at my cowardice. The cups hid their faces. The plates sat there with their mouths wide open. The dishes stood akimbo. The upset cutlery hanged in groups of their own kinds. The tap at the sink shed tears, one drop at a time, as if to remind me that I had to go back and do it. I approached the cutlery and picked up the knife. The knife is always approachable without blood in it.

“Foolish me!” I cursed. Hitting the knife on the sink.

“Tyra, what are you breaking?” Mom shouted.

“Nothing. I’m cutting pudding.”

My body swelled in regret. My eyes bulged in desperation. I groaned. I had betrayed myself. I wept bitterly at the fact that I had been intimated by my mother’s boyfriend in the presence of my father. I frantically sampled pudding fruits as teardrops cleared my eye vision. I grabbed the knife. Held the first banana and sunk the knife...oops! It fell onto my finger. I mourned!

 “Tyra, Tyra!”

Frankie pushed between them and reached out for me. He held my body that became tiny in his hands.

He whispered, “Eazzy, eazzy babe girl!” I cried the more.

I mourned not for the knife cut, I was hurt elsewhere. My heart agonized. My mind itched in my head. But they knew not. Is it because he was blinded by the tied knot? Tying the knot should not blind but bind. Love is blind was a cliche to me. I mourned.

 I mourned because the devil who always hides in the details was standing on the surface, right there before my father’s eyes. But he perceived him not. They concentrated on the wrong place. My finger. Frankie dragged with me to the living room.

“Here, the towel and some warm water.” Came mom rushing.

“Give me! Get the first aid kit at the lamp stand.” Said dad.

He took the towel and dipped it into the water. Mom opened the kit and dad took out wool. Used it to clean around the cut. He then held my finger and smirked.

“The knife just chose the ring finger? Funny!” Said a disappointed dad.

“Meeehn, thank God tomorrow is not your wedding day.” Said Frankie.

“Hallelujah!” Exclaimed Mom.

“The devil missed the date!” Added Frankie.

They all laughed. Dad laughed with them! It hurt me as he did. I faked a smiled and giggled with sadness. More tears freely flowed down my cheeks. They all followed rhythmically as Dad nursed the cut, the way baby lions watch as mother elephant rescues her baby from a lion attack, but the real lioness and her lover within them scheming on their next move.

“Let me take you to your room.” Said Dad.

“Yes, she needs rest. See you, Tyra.” Said Frankie. “Another time.”

“It’s too early Mehn!” Dad interrupted.

“C’mon baby, you need to rest from work. And I am late for the gym.” Mom complained.

“You haven’t gone? Oh! Okay.” Dad finished.

They chucked out. Phew! I felt at home again. Dad helped me sit on the bed. He opened the curtains and the windows such that I could see the road down the streets towards the market. It’s that way that led to the gym.

“You need sleeping pills?

“Yes.”

I wanted him to go so that I could ‘see off’ the two lovebirds. Frankie’s car engine coughed. It always coughed worse than a cow with East Coast fever. He inherited the car from his late dad. Their dad owned lots of businesses including the gym. Frankie was one of those big lucky city boys who didn’t have to work hard or go to college like my dad. He and many other lazy men just did work-outs to look good first and keep fit later.

I heard the car crawl out of our apartment. It was then going down the street. A ‘convertible’ cabriolet modified from an old BMW. Its exhaust pipe was really exhausted. It emitted clouds instead of smoke. Its portable speakers made loud reggae music to confuse the on-lookers from focusing on its deficiency. Its occupants who seemed to have an exhilarating chat painted a ‘happily ever after picture’ to them on-lookers.

I grinned.

“You love the car?” Spoke Dad.

“For how long have you been standing here?” I asked without turning.

“Does it matter?” He marked. “Back then, did you really want to say what you wanted to?”

“Yes.” I stammered.

He held me by the shoulders. My eyes were still focused on the settling smoke down the road. My nerves calmed and my tears dried. Only anger lingered at the back of my mind. I did not want to face my dad. Lest I get emotional. He had the eyes of a detective. He perceived a lot. But I had to play hard just for a few days as I gathered my second wave of strength.

“Here, I brought you chocolates. Three bars.”

I hugged him!

“Will you tell me?” He insisted.

My eyes downcast. I moved further from him but nearer the window. I looked down the road then down the apartment, at the green flowered beds, made by my dad. I felt this strong love for him, I revered him. But I honored them both. I tried to search my heart and mind for a smart lie to postpone this looming dark cloud, but I found none. I had to tell him. Yes. Once again, I was crying bitterly, he held me and took me back to the bed. He gave me his handkerchief. I sighed for a minute then looked at him. I had gathered enough courage to.

“Do you trust me, Dad?”