THE EYE OPENER
1350 Words
I was raised a religious and there was this fear about putting asunder whatever God had put together. Being raised a religious and being religious were two different things. It trapped a lot of freedom. It held our little crazy wings hostage. First, I could not masturbate in peace. Second, I couldn’t speak out mind about specifics like parents affairs.
My father was already overwhelmed by work. He kept receiving messages and calls. His eyes were barely open, he yawned and stretched. He rose and made towards the window and faced me.
“How much can you forgive? A husky voice escaped me.
“How much? Haha.” He laughed. “You gonna do something that requires my forgiveness?”
“Not just me. I mean, anyone.”
“That is difficult to say, depends with the magnitude of the hurting caused by the adversary.”
“Let’s say you are related to that someone?”
“Wow. Why can’t you just speak it?”
His persistence gnawed me. My dad never stopped pursuing something. At his age, he was taking masters studies. He once dashed into my room when I scampered and screamed over a lizard on my bed. He intercepted the lizard at the door. The lizard ran into hiding under my bed. He followed it. Pushed the bed aside and went on his knees. The lizard had seen him and jumped back to the door and towards the hall way.
“Just let the fuckin lizard be!” My mom had shouted.
“I must catch up with it and bruise its tail”
He went after it. The lizard climbed up the storeroom door. He opened the door and banged it. The lizard lay there, down and lifeless.
“That day you killed the lizard even after mom had asked you to let it go.”
“You still remember that? C’mon. It was just a fuckin lizard. It would cause havoc in my house if I let it live”
“That answers me, right?” I chuckled.
“Like an intruder? Oh yes. Suits your question.”
I sigh. The statement arouses my consciousness. I literally replace the lizard with Frankie and me with mom. But this time round, I vividly envision myself assist Dad kill the lizard.
I remembered the words of the priest in my favourite movie, dynasty.
“Speak up now or forever shut up.” The priest had declared during Kelly’s and Adegoke’s wedding.
I decide to speak up. To hell with fear!
“Dad, I want to go to Aunt Perry’s place.”
He says nothing.
“I want some time away from mom.” I add.
His eyes grows wider. He slides his hands into his pockets to maintain the calm. He sits beside me, his eyes downcast. He is lost in his own word trying to figure out how to arm-twist me into opening up. Like a detective who has just lost a criminal in a forest thicket. But trying to look around and close for a possible lead.
“Did she do something to you?”
“Since she banned her from setting foot in her room...” I shake my head.
“Why would she do that?”
Silence. He is breaking into my heart slowly. He is drilling through me. I can control it not. I feel a strong urge to say it. Say it and run to Aunt Perry’s. After all, any consequence thereafter would keep Frankie away from her. I am losing it. Voices speak up in my mind.
“C’mon baby girl. You shouldn’t do this.”
“You go this. This things happen. Your mother is just a victim.”
“Victim my foot!” I accidentally think loudly.
“What victim? Who heart you Tyra?”
“Sorry. f**k. I thought out loud.”
“Tyra...”
“I remembered how I argued with her. She pissed me off dad. She beat me. she pulled off my hair and made fun of my look. Since then she keeps saying I walk with boys. I am tried Dad!”
I break into tears. He holds me like an adopted child. He soothes me to calm. He strokes my hair. Was he thinking about how it was pulled off by his lioness? I hold my tears and fast recollect my composure. I am losing it. I needed someone around. Carline. She would have cracked a joke in the midst of this serious situation. I start to speak.
“Okay, I came home and you two were having your time. You don’t remember.”
How he is going to answer this question will determine my next move.
“What do you mean by having our time?” He got interested.
“As a husband and wife. Private time.”
“Tyra, hahaha. What made you think like that?”
“How mom was dressed. She looked like she was in the moment.”
“I think she over reacted. There is no problem. It has happened several times.”
I chuckle. Move to my wardrobe. I hold the dress mom had just given to me. I wanted to get away from dad. I was confused. After all, it was not Frankie as I had always thought. It was dad. I look into my wardrobe mirror and come face to face with him. Dad. He was seated in the same position but facing me. His face pasted with uncertainty.
“That dress. Looks pretty. Have you tried it on?”
“Mom just gave it to me. She said she doesn’t fit.”
He stands up. Moves closer to me then stops.
“Would you mind looking this way? I want to see how it fits”
I sense danger. My nerves sink. Dad had never stayed longer in my room before. He had never been so near unless it is a hug during merry. He wasn’t just asking me to turn. He was confirming something.
“You said your mother gave this dress to you claiming it doesn’t fit?”
“Why would I lie?”
“No, no! It’s nothing. I just...”
He touches the dress and grins. He was actually inspecting it. He was making up something to say. I jump in fast to interrogate. I snatches it and feigns a smile.
“You just what? “ I ask.
“I just confused it with another dress that you bought for your mother.”
“Oh my God.” I wondered.
For starters. I had never bought my mother a dress, let alone a gift during her birthday. This side of the city was a hub an unembarrassed girls who just post their mothers on social media with cute captions. In real life, our relationship with our mothers was like that of African presidents with opposition leaders.
“Dad, you are lying to me, I can see it in your eyes.”
He giggles, “What can you really see?”
“Doubt, frustrations, questions...”
“That is what I see in criminals at the interrogation rooms.”
“Criminals?”
“Oh, sorry. Never mind.”
“No Dad. That wasn’t a slip of the tongue.”
“You should never tell anyone. Your father is a detective with the national intelligence. I just started last year.”
I had always thought that my dad works with a security firm. I had seen him in pictures standing next to celebrities and sometimes politicians. The pictures decorated our living room. The pictures depicted happiness as pictures should always do, only that he never smiled. When I asked, that was the answer he gave, “Private security”. He would travel, and anytime he came back, chaos.
“Private security companies. Nothing big.” He would say.
“Nobody, even my mother?” I asked.
“You tell me first. Have you ever bought your mother a dress?
He looks straight into my eyes, and now that I was looking at a detective, my perception about him had changes instantly. It is no longer my dad looking at me, it is ‘Detective Ted’. My bedroom had turned into an interrogation room. I cast my eyes on the walls shyly. All I see is a myriad of pictures with images of Frankie and My mother, all arrows are pointing to the eater, Frankie.
“Tyra.”
His voice brings me back to my bedroom. Tears well my eyes. My body feels naked in drops of a cold shower. I am literally shaking.
“Your hands are shaking. Relax.”
His tone had changed. He has been reading my mind all along. He has been studying me and the best place was in my room. I held the wound where I had cut myself and looked at him for like after a lifetime.
“Have you ever bought her a dress?” He repeated.
“No, no.” I said insisting.
I should have never touched that dress, it became an eye opener. Maybe even something bigger. Something terrible.
- Writer
