Chapter One - Episode Two: Asking for permission
588 Words
What if there was something waiting for her somewhere outside everything she already knew?
She brought the phone back to her ear.
“You’re serious?”
“Very serious.”
“You’re sure I can stay with you?”
“Of course.”
“For how long?”
“As long as you need to get yourself together.”
She smiled.
“I’ll think about it.”
“No,” her friend replied immediately. “Don’t just think about it. Talk to your parents.”
That sentence brought her back to reality.
Her parents.
She knew exactly what they would say.
They would ask questions.
A lot of questions.
Who was she staying with?
Where exactly?
What was she going to do?
Who would look after her?
What if something happened?
What if she needed help?
What if Lagos wasn’t what she imagined?
And, most importantly, why did she suddenly need to leave home?
She sighed.
“Okay. I’ll talk to them.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Good. And call me after you’ve spoken to them.”
They said goodbye, but she remained seated long after the call ended.
She looked down at her phone.
Then she looked toward the doorway.
For the first time, Lagos no longer felt like a distant city she heard people talk about.
It had become a possibility.
That evening, she told her parents.
She waited until they were both together before bringing it up because she already knew that saying it to one parent first would only mean having the same conversation twice.
Her mother looked at her.
“Lagos?”
“Yes.”
“Why Lagos?”
She explained.
She told them about her friend.
She explained that she would stay with her and that she wasn’t going there because she had everything figured out.
In fact, it was the opposite.
She wanted to go because she needed to figure things out.
Her mother listened quietly.
Her father wasn’t convinced.
“Who do you know there?” her mother asked.
“My friend.”
“Just your friend?”
“Yes.”
Her father looked at her.
“You don’t have family in Lagos. No relatives. What happens if something goes wrong?”
She knew he wasn’t trying to discourage her simply for the sake of it.
He was worried.
That was what parents did.
They saw dangers their children didn’t see because love made them imagine every possible thing that could go wrong.
“I’ll be careful,” she said.
“Being careful is not always enough,” her father replied.
She lowered her eyes.
The conversation ended that night without permission.
But she didn’t give up.
The next day, she brought it up again.
Then again.
And again.
For two weeks, she pleaded.
Sometimes she explained.
Sometimes she promised.
Sometimes she simply sat with them and tried to make them understand why going felt so important to her.
“I’ll call every day.”
Her mother would shake her head.
“I’ll be careful.”
Her father would ask another question.
“I’ll remember everything you’ve taught me.”
Silence.
“I won’t get into trouble.”
Another silence.
“I just need a chance.”
That was the sentence that eventually seemed to reach them.
She didn’t know exactly when her parents began to soften.
There wasn’t one dramatic moment when they suddenly changed their minds.
It happened gradually.
A question here.
A conversation there.
A warning.
Another prayer.
Another reminder to be careful.
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