Short Story: Behind Closed doors pt 1

                                  


Hi peeps, was flipping through my computer and found a short stort i had written a while back and deceided to share. Hope you like....

Days like this are when I appreciate being a Nigerian. Our public holidays come in quick successions and should they fall on a weekend, we are guaranteed to have Mondays off. Lucky me, I get to have a full 6hrs of sleep, meet with my girls and do other things on my wish list. Last night didn’t go pretty well; I was set on a blind date by one of my gal pals with some dude who just came back from the UK. But my date with ‘London boy’ was quite a disappointment. How could someone who sounded so nice on the phone, end up with less than witty sense of humour, with traces of dooshbag written all over him? Well, that was certainly the end of that rendezvous. I definitely needed my sleep, and the idea of possible girl time was the only comfort I had.

Only that this particular morning didn’t start well at all. The devil actually chose this morning to drive his hummer jeep right across my parents’ front yard. World war III was taking place live in my sitting room. I could hear the yelling, the cursing, and the arguments which were getting louder; no matter how hard I tried to block the sounds, I could feel the vibrations in my head. Sometimes I wish my father would actually stop being a coward, and actually leave instead of making threats. Well I wasn’t going to allow my parents’ issues be my problem this morning. Nope! Not today.

Trying to get back my dainty sleep was proving to be a herculean task, and after tossing a few times, I decided to take refuge in my blackberry. I went through my contacts for updates. Those that had something to thank God for did so. Others sought divine intervention and a few others changed their DPs’ . I scrolled through, and my eyes went straight for Motunde’s picture. I know it’s wrong to use other people’s life as a prayer point especially when you don’t know the depth of their problem, but with Motunde, I make an exception. Usually Motunde's display pictures are always about her and her boyfriend errm...fiancé of about a year now. They are either clad in matching polo T-shirts, or just in the comfort of their cars sitting in sensuous positions with their megawatts smile telling it all. Well, I definitely didn’t need Motunde’s DP to remind me of my single-with-no-prospective-suitor-status. I tossed my phone aside, and made way for the bathroom. Gotta get outta here!

Its noontime and Lade and I have done our random window shopping at ‘De Palms mall’. Glancing through glass windows, pointing and savouring how each item will look on us until we see the shop assistant’s smile wear thin and then we scurry away. Nope, We ain’t broke. At least I can speak for myself, I have done my fair share of shopping for the month purchasing ‘sale’ items from my ‘UK returnee colleague, and I don't see myself dolling out more cash till the next rain falls (if u know what I mean). We were beginning to make our way to d nearest eatery, when we sighted Ify making an elegant stride towards us. Ify never seems to amaze me; she's an ardent follower of 'AFRICAN TIME'' regardless of how many times you reprimand her on keeping to time. If you call something a 'casual outing', Ify sees this as an opportunity for her to showcase her recently acquired staple from her different designer labels.

While we sat down to have lunch, I noticed Ify chatting away on her new BB torch, giggling like a school girl. She can be so engrossed in her blackberry, sometimes I feel tempted to give her an upper-cut. I had to urge her to put her BB away for a few minutes but she was quick to defend herself, by saying it was her latest catch who had recently upgraded her Car. The rich dude happened to be a married man who was ready to dole out cash to her, as long as she gave him attention and pleasure of course. She didn’t seem to mind anyway, so I didn’t care.

Lade delved into how her boyfriend of 2 years was giving her the cold shoulder and how the calls she's made to him so far in the past 24hours was yet to yield fruit. Well this wouldn’t be the first time her loser boyfriend would be treating her like shit, she should break up with him already. I rubbed her back seeing that her anger was starting to gain momentum. But trust Ify to voice her opinion, ‘how many times will I tell you it’s pointless to date boy scouts? Soldiers are much more mature!’ In Ify's lingo, boy scouts mean dating one's age mate or peer while soldiers translate to older dudes. ‘They know how to do you right in every direction, pamper you and show you off’. She had a point though, being in a relationship with older guys was asking for a little less drama than with younger guys. My thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of my phone. I just got an SMS from my sister that “daddy just pushed mummy to the wall now and she bumped her head, and fell to the floor, she’s staring at me now and all effort to make her move is not working. Please come over quickly”. I jumped up like a jack-in-the -box telling my friends that I had to rush off to an emergency at home. Lade and Ify were quick to ask what went wrong but I don’t think broadcasting it at this moment was a good idea, so I mumbled a flimsy excuse. They would never understand. Just as when I had to give up my salary once to pay up my mum's hospital bills for a fractured knee as a result of my Dad’s violence instead of going for an ‘all girl’s vacation’.

Oh snap! How would I tell them my dad just hit my mom? It’s hard been the first child having to mediate between your parents on several occasions, now that's too much I don’t ask for. I battled with my thoughts as I jumped in my Car, increased speed as I hit the highway.

To be continued.......