CHAPTER 5
1412 Words
I waited until dinner to say it.
Not because it felt like the right time, but because it was the only time we were all in one place without distractions. My brother was seated at the table, swinging his legs slowly, removing the green peas from his meal cause he didn't like them. My mum sat opposite him, eating in small bites, with the same unfocused look on her face. I stood by the stove a bit longer than required, stirring food that didn’t need anymore stirring, listening to the clank of cutlery against plates.
Meals at the dining table grew quiet because nobody spoke much anymore. Silence had become the new jam.
I transferred the peppered chicken from the pot into the serving dish and set it down on the table. I sat and cleaned my palms against my trousers out of anxiousness.
“We can’t stay here again,” I said.
The words kind of just rolled out from my mouth and immediately changed the energy in the room.
My mum looked up at me. Really looked, it appeared I got her attention. She had this look on her face like she was trying to figure out whether she had heard me correctly.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean… we should move out.”
My brother stopped eating. His eyes went from her to me, he seemed more present now.
“Move where?” my mum asked.
“I don’t know. Somewhere else. Another city.”
She stared at me for a moment, then gave this weird laugh. “We just buried your father.”
“I know.”
“And you think moving is the answer?”
“I think staying isn’t.”
She pushed her plate away slightly, it appeared that she had lost her appetite. “This is our home Nora.”
“It was,” I said. Then I corrected myself. “It is. But it’s also where everything happened Mum.”
My brother frowned. “So we are running away?” He asked.
“No,” I said quickly. “We’re not running.”
He didn’t look convinced.
My mum shook her head. “You’re tired. That’s all this is. We’ve all had a hard couple of weeks.”
“I’m not saying we leave tomorrow,” I said. “I’m saying we think about it.”
“Think about what?” she snapped. “Do you even understand what you're suggesting? Leaving everything we know? Your father’s house? His things?”
Her voice cracked on the last word. She pressed her lips together like she hadn’t meant to say it that way.
I waited. Let the silence stretch. Let her breathe.
“I don’t think this place is helping mum,” I said quietly. “Every room reminds us of him, contains memories that just hurt to think of right now. Every day feels the same. We’re stuck in this unhealthy cycle.”
“It’s called grief, Nora,” she responded with a calmer but firm tone.
“Yes, I know that. And we’re doing it alone. You've practically been withdrawn from our lives since the incident and you barely say five words to any of us”
She looked down at her hands and took a deep breath.
“What about money?” she asked. “What about your brother’s school? What about—”
“I’ll figure it out,” I said.
She looked up sharply. “You can’t keep blurting that out like it’s a solution.”
“I know,” I said. “But I also know I can’t keep doing everything here.”
That was the truth of it. The house. The routines. The expectations. The weight of being the one who carried on everything like I was the parent, preparing and taking my brother to school.
My brother said, quietly. “Would Daddy come with us?”
The question threw me aback, I definitely wasn't expecting that.
My mum reached for him immediately. Pulled him closer. “No, sweetheart.”
He nodded once. “Then… I don’t want to leave.”
I leaned forward. “It doesn’t mean we’re leaving him behind.”
“But he’s here,” my brother said. “He’s in the house.”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
Dinner ended without a decision. Plates cleared. Food put away. My brother went to his room. My mum stayed at the table long after I’d finished cleaning.
I laid awake that night, staring at the ceiling, and listening to the silence of the house.
The next day, I called Mr. Ade.
He had worked with my father years ago. They weren’t close friends, but they’d stayed in touch. He was the kind of man who sent birthday messages and came visiting during holidays. He came to the funeral, stood at the edge of the crowd, and hugged me before leaving early.
“If you ever need anything at all, do not hesitate to call me” he said to me before he left.
I hadn’t planned to call him. It just happened.
He answered on the third ring.
“Nora,” he said. “How are you doing? It's good to hear from you.”
“I’m doing fine sir,” I responded. “I wanted to ask you something.”
I explained the situation carefully. The house. The debt. The pressure. I didn’t ask for help directly. I just spoke until I ran out of words.
There was a pause.
“I have a flat,” he said finally. “It’s not big. And it’s in the city. But it’s empty.”
I swallowed. “We wouldn’t be able to pay much.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “We’ll talk details later.”
I thanked him. Hung up. Sat there with my phone in my lap, staring at nothing. I just had to convince my mum and Mike now.
That evening, I told my mum.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just listened. Nodded slowly.
“He is kind,” she said, after a while. “Your father always said that.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
“I don’t want to forget him,” she said.
“I know,” I said again. “Neither do I.”
She closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were wet and red. I immediately held her hands.
“Okay,” she said. “We can go.”
I leaned towards her and gave her a hug.
“Thank you mum”
My brother took the news better than I expected. He asked about the flat. Whether there would be kids nearby that he could play with. Whether he’d still be able to come visit his friends.
“Sometimes,” I said. “We can come back.
He nodded. “Okay.”
Packing took longer than I expected.
Not because there was so much to do, but because everything required a decision. What to take. What to leave. What to give away. What to throw away. What to pretend we’d come back for.
My father’s clothes remained in the wardrobe longer than they should have. My mum couldn’t bring herself to touch them. I folded them slowly, one by one, crying quietly so no one would notice, placing them into boxes.
My brother packed his things carelessly. Toys shoved into bags. Books were piled unevenly.
I packed carefully. Papers. Documents. Things I knew we’d need.
The house started looking different as the boxes stacked up in rooms emptied and bare walls.
On the last night, we all slept on mattresses on the floor. The beds had already picked up by the movers.
I couldn't sleep much.
In the morning, I walked through the house alone. The kitchen. The hallway. My parents’ room.
I stopped in the doorway of the living room. The space looked wrong without furniture.
I had flashbacks to the dinners we’d had there. The arguments. The laughter. The ordinary days that had once felt unimportant.
My mum called my name from outside.
I stepped out and closed the door behind me.
Before getting into the car, I turned back and looked at the house one last time.
It now represented an old chap
ter. I just looked until I couldn’t anymore wiping a tear that had rolled down from my eyes, then got into the car and told myself that we'll be fine.
- Writer
