Tales Of Death And Daddy Issues

“We can’t get to the bottom of this issue until you tell us the whole story,” the policeman said. I looked from Ephraim to my mother, he lowered his eyes but my mother looked at me as though I was a piece of cow dung.

I smiled like a crazy woman, right then I had nothing to lose. When my mother saw me smile she sat heavily back in her chair. I looked at the policeman and opened my mouth. I was going to tell the whole story.

Ten Years Before

“My name is Vicky Adamu, I’m a pupil of Asonja group of schools”

“You said your name is what?” My mother asked, suddenly looking up from her sewing. I bit my lip and twisted my hands under the full glare of her angry eyes.

“I said..” I began to say

“Shut up! Your name is Vicky Adejoke” she barked as I shrank away. “You are your father’s daughter,” she said and I knew she didn’t mean Adamu.

Two years before, I had never had the name problem. I had always known who I was. Vicky Adamu, the apple of her parent’s eyes. I was a dearly beloved only child and my parents adored me.

No weekend went by when we didn’t go for a picnic or to a restaurant to have a good time. I was taken to the prestigious Crest high school. There I learned to speak the way I do. I also learned to channel my spoiled child confidence into meaningful things like winning debates and prizes for my school.

The day everything ended, I was sitting quietly in my seat, reading a novel with my legs crossed before me daintily.

“Vicky” my class teacher called from her desk. It took me a while to hear her but when I did I quickly snapped the book shut and stood up.

“Ma?” I asked

“The vice principal wants you in his office now,” she said and turned back to the books on her table.

I dropped my book, arranged my pinafore and began to walk down the stairs that led to the vice principal’s office.

I knocked gently at the door, hearing people murmuring inside the office.

“Come in” our VP Mr. Mason called. I turned the doorknob and entered.

“Mummy!” I called in surprise when I saw my aunt sitting there.

“Vicky love,” she said, opening her arms to hug me. I walked towards her but hesitated when I realized I was in my VP’s office. Mr. Mason gave me an imperceptible nod of approval and I hugged her.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered into my aunt’s ears

“I came to ask permission to take you home“ she whispered back, laughing when she saw my happy smile.

“Thank you, sir,” she said to the VP as we stood up to leave.

“It is my pleasure. Take care” Mr. Mason said.

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In my excitement, it didn’t occur to me to wonder why my aunt who lived three hours away was the one who came to take me home. Mind you, it wasn’t the first time I was being called out of class. Sometimes, I was called away from class to attend the compulsory events my parents always attended. Still, I should have known something about that day was different.

The first thing I heard when I got to the house was singing. People were singing church songs in our living room. My aunt steered me away from the back gate and took me towards the gate on the west side of our house.

“Auntie” I called as we walked into the compound.

“Who are those people singing in the living room?” I asked

“Must be your mom’s church people?” my aunt said offhandedly. “Follow me to my room let’s hang out, it’s been a while”

“Your father traveled out of the country,” my mother said when she came to Auntie’s room late in the evening.

“Why?” I asked, perplexed. I was staring at her, her eyes were red and puffy so I knew she had been crying. My own tears were fast approaching.

“Mummy why did daddy leave and he didn’t tell me? When is he coming back?” I asked her, suddenly she heaved a great sigh and burst into fresh tears.

“He’s not coming back o! Ewww! Vicky see what your father has done to me!” She was shouting and I was crying very loudly until other adults came and took her away. My Aunt rocked me until I fell asleep.

Over the years I got to know how my father died in short bursts of conversation, most of them I heard from standing like a ghost behind the doors.

“Vicky, your father told me to change your school before he left. I wonder why he used public transport that day.”

“Did you trust your husband?” My paternal grandmother asked my mother

“Yes, I did.”

“I am not sure. The hateful energy a suspicious woman has for her husband can push him into an accident,” grandma said acidly.

“I will not be going on that journey,” my mother told her colleague

“Why? It is compulsory that we go” the colleague said.

“I cannot travel that Lagos-Ibadan road,” my mother said firmly.

“Haba, what is wrong with the road?” Her colleague asked. There was silence. My mother did not answer.

“I’m sorry,” her colleague said.

I became withdrawn. There was nothing anyone could say to get me out of my silence. My mother changed my school when she realized the probing eyes of students and teachers were making everything worse for me. In the new school, everyone just got used to the fact that I was the painfully quiet girl who talked to no one but answered questions in class.

***

One day I came back from school to meet my mother sitting at the balcony.

“Good afternoon mommy,“ I greeted her.

“My baby, welcome,” she said. As I reached the door she called me back.

“Come and sit down”. She said. I sat down opposite her, on the hand of the chair to Indicate my eagerness to leave.

“I received a report from your teacher. She said you do not communicate with your classmates in class.”

“Why would she say that?” I asked. I was irritated.

“Is it not true?”

“I don’t talk to them because we don’t have anything to talk about,“ I said. My mother didn’t look pleased.

“You’ve been in that class for a while now and you still don’t have something to talk about?!” She asked. She was looking at me. When I did not answer she continued.

“Anyway, I have something to tell you,” She said. “I am getting married.”

It took me some time to process what she said and when I did I found myself on my feet.

“What?! It’s been only TWO years since Dad died!”

“I know! I could have waited ten years even! But look at you! You’re not doing okay. You need a father,” she said. Her lips were quivering pitifully but I didn’t pity her in the least.

“I am fourteen years old. I’m not a toddler that you can use as an excuse. I can take care of myself,” I said and stormed out.

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew it was a lie. I could not take care of myself. I woke up feeling lost every morning and angry. My father’s death had affected me even more than I thought it had. I just couldn’t forgive him for dying that day without saying goodbye to me. I didn’t know how to forgive myself for going to school that day.

The cold that day was so deep I was grateful for the heavy pink gown they had put me in. The harmattan had decided to make another grand entrance. My mother, however, looked like a giant bonfire with all her smiles. She was so happy. It was going to be a small wedding at my grandfather’s house yet she was so happy. She had never been so happy. It made me wonder, is death an angel or Santa Claus, and was my mother now living her best life?

The women were fusing over her, most of them must have gossipped about her previously. A lot of them must have cackled when they spoke of the speed in which my mother forgot my dead father but now they chirped around her like good little birds. I watched from my corner of the room as a young boy entered, he was carrying a bouquet of flowers and he looked handsome in his tuxedo.

He walked straight to my mom and gave it to her. Then he came to sit down beside me.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied.

“I’m Ephraim, your new brother,” he said.

“I’m Vicky and I don’t need a brother,” I said.

“I know. I heard you have major daddy issues,” he said.

“What? Who told you that?” I asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“My father. Well, he didn’t say those exact words, he was discussing with your mom about how you need a father and I just figured. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said. I didn’t know what daddy issues meant so it was easy to forgive him. Besides, I liked his simple honesty in ratting his father out.

***

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After the wedding, my mother and her new husband went for their honeymoon and it began to seem like it would never end. Looking back now, I realize I should have known or at least suspected something. They were just so in love with each other when I discussed it with my new brother he smiled and said it was because it was their second marriage.

According to him, second marriages were always the best because both parties were trying to make up for the mistakes they made in the first. I saw a lot of sense in what he said. My mother had never traveled with my father, but she traveled everywhere with her new husband. Following him around the country with the excuse that he had business meetings and she loved to travel. Their frequent travels caused Ephraim and I to grow closer. We were always home together so we had to keep each other company.

“What’s up with you?” Ephraim asked one day on getting to my room and seeing me lying dejectedly on the bed.

“Cramps,” I said through gritted teeth.

“How does it feel?” He asked, he sounded so excited I had to open an eye and stare at him.

“Like pain, duh,” I said

“Where are you feeling the pains?” He asked. I indicated my lower belly and he slowly began to rub it in circles. “Feel better?”

“Yes,” I replied, shocked that the massage had worked.

“I want to see this menstrual blood,” he said after a while.

“You don’t.” I said “It stinks badly”

“I don’t care. I want to know what it looks like” he said.

I stared at him for a moment, hoping he would change his mind but he seemed determined to see. I widened my legs just a teensy bit so he could dip his fingers inside. When he touched me, it felt good. Nobody had ever touched me there before. His fingers came out bloody and he stared at them closely as though he was some kind of scientist. Then he got up and left the room. I feared that he had gone to retch in his bathroom but he came back with a glass of water and some pain relievers.

“Can you sit up?” He asked me. I nodded and sat up.

“Hand it over to me,” I said smiling when he struggled to tip the glass of water towards my mouth. He smiled back at me as he watched me swallow the pills.

“Thank you,” he said when I was done.

“I should be thanking you,” I said.

“No. You agreed to take the drugs. I am grateful. I hate seeing you in pain” he said earnestly. The smile fell away from my lips, the moment suddenly seeming so profound. He leaned closer to me, then the front door opened, shocking us so much that we banged our heads together. We sat there, holding our heads and laughing through the pain.

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That was how Ephraim continued to take care of me. My mother had been right, my father’s death had left a vacuum that needed to be filled and he was filling it nicely. I was happy. My new father barely talked to me, he seemed to be watching me and waiting for something to happen. Perhaps for a miracle to happen and break me out of my shell. Perhaps he was giving me space because he saw it was still hurting from my father’s death. I would never know.

“Why did you not go to school yesterday? Was it because I traveled? At fourteen are you not old enough to take care of yourself?” My mother shouted at me. I was sitting stoically on the brown chair near my bedroom window. My mother was standing in a funny way. She was bent as though her anger was pulling her shoulder down so it could spout more easily from her mouth. The door opened behind us.

“She was ill mom. I was struggling to take care of her” Ephraim said in his calm voice. My mother turned to him.

“I did not ask you. I am asking Vicky a question and she will answer me!” She said, still angry but her voice was lowered. Her voice was always lowered when she talked to him. I was the one she shouted at every day. I was the one who did all the house chores. Ephraim was never allowed to do anything. My mother banned him from cooking in the kitchen and from touching a broom or a sponge.

Ephraim knew he couldn’t join me in cooking so he would wait for everyone to be in their beds resting then he would come and help me do the dishes. His plates were always shiner than mine because he had more patience, and when we were done I would send him to confirm that the adults were sleeping, then we would go outside and sit behind the flowers to talk. The fireflies were always there with us.

“Why are you so sad? Is it because your father died?” Ephraim asked me for one evening.

“I guess,” I said, feeling my throat constrict.

“I’m sorry. It must have been painful” he said. I squeezed his arm as a thank you.

“What about you? What happened to your family?” I asked.

“My mother left me and my dad and ran away with another man,” he said.

“Ouch!”

“Yes, she’s never come to check on me though. I’ll be fifteen next month.” He said bitterly.

“Really? I’ll be fifteen too” I said.

“19th, what about you?” he asked.

“20th!” I exclaimed. “We are almost twins!”

“Wow. That’s weird. But I feel even closer to you,” He said. He stared into my eyes for a moment, bent his head and kissed me softly on the lips. “What are we doing?” I asked myself desperately. My heart did not answer me.

***

Everyone was silent when I stopped talking. Most of them were staring at Ephraim but I didn’t join them. I wasn’t blaming him for anything, I was just saying things as they happened but I didn’t know if he would understand me.

“That doesn’t explain why you tried to kill your father and why you are pregnant,” the policeman said. His voice was less harsh than it had been minutes ago.

“I think my mother should continue the story from here,” I said.

“I am not asking your mother, I am asking you,” the policeman said. I lowered my head and continued.

I came home from school and met only Ephraim alone in the house. Our parents were set to return in the evening so we were safe. He welcomed me and took me to his room.

“How are classes treating you?” He asked when we disengaged from each other.

“Treating me well,” I said.

“But you look tired. Why do you look so tired?” He asked me

“I don’t know, I’ve been feeling so tired lately,” I said. Ephraim looked at me critically, like the doctor he was studying to become.

“What are your symptoms?”

“Nausea, nagging headaches and cramps in my lower belly,” I said.

“I think you’re pregnant, “he said.

“What?!” I shouted. Ephraim raised up his hands to defend himself. I saw that he feared my reaction and I calmed down. I was getting angry so often at that time, it never occurred to me that my heightened emotions might be because of a pregnancy.

“I have a pregnancy test kit somewhere,” He said and jumped down from his bed. He rummaged in his drawer and brought out the packet. I stood up and walked into the bathroom, he followed after me.

***

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“Vicky” Ephraim called pleading. I was sitting on the floor, still trying to come to terms with my situation.

“What do I do now?” I asked aloud.

“What do WE do,” He said. He came down from the bed and came to kneel before me.

“I love you, Vicky. I want to marry you”

“Our parents will never allow it,” I said.

“They have no choice. It is our decision. After all, we’re only brother and sister because they met each other one day at the mall” he said. His remarks were so sensible that I calmed down. I was not alone.

Our parents got home that evening and we welcomed them as usual. After dropping their luggage in their room, we turned to go but my mother called us back.

“My darlings. We have something to tell you” she said. Ephraim went to sit near his father and I went to sit near mom.

“Your mother has a story to tell you,” his dad said to Ephraim.

“We’re listening,” Ephraim said looking at me. His eyebrows were raised. We’re expecting a baby?

“I met your dad twenty years ago” my mother began. She was looking at both of us. “We met when we were both students in the university and we fell in love. We were so in love that we couldn’t wait to get married but we had to finish school first so we waited. Meanwhile, l was not aware that my father, your grandfather, was preparing a man for me to marry.

As soon as I graduated, he called the man and his family over and introduced me as the daughter he wanted to give them as a wife. I was livid with anger but I waited until the people had left before I went to meet my father. I told him I had a man I wanted to marry and he laughed. He said I should forget about the childish love of my boyfriend and that he was giving me to a real man who would take good care of me and my children.

I told him I would rather die than marry that man and he told me to get out of his sight. That if I refused to do as he wanted I should know that I was dead to him and he had no daughter called Kambili. I ran to the man I was in love with and told him about the situation. We both cried together but he told me he couldn’t allow me to be disowned by my father. He gave me his blessings and told me to go live my life.

Two months into my marriage I discovered I was pregnant and I knew it wasn’t for the man I was living with but I was too scared to speak out. When I was to give birth I told my husband I wanted to go visit my mother for the birth and he let me go. I came to stay with the man I love and when I gave birth I realized that God had blessed us. He had given us twins instead of one child. A boy and a girl. We named them Ephraim and Vicky and I went back to live with my husband, leaving the boy child with him.

My mother finished and looked hopefully at me. She was smiling. I looked at her. I looked over at the men. Ephraim had his head in his hands. Like me he didn’t need to ask any questions, we knew that what she said was true. I couldn’t believe how selfish they both had been to make such terrible decisions. I couldn’t believe I was now pregnant with my brother’s child. My real brother. My twin brother. The earth spun and I collapsed.

***

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The policeman was looking at me with pity but other people in the room were staring at my mother who seemed to have shrunk in her chair. I knew I could have stopped talking at that moment but if I was to go to jail then everyone had to know why I did what I did, so I continued.

I woke up in a hospital bed. That man who had contributed in destroying my life was sleeping against my bed as though he was a real father. I was so angry and full of hate when I saw him lying there with no care in the world. There was a surgical knife on the table. I feared that they had done a D&C on me. I wasn’t thinking rationally, and I didn’t bother to inspect myself. I picked it and stabbed him in the back with all my might. He was a coward, he deserved to die a coward’s death.