Blindfolds

1

Dinma blew an impatient breath and adjusted the sleeping child, Zara, in her arm, then she glanced at her wrist watch for the umpteenth time. She was running late for her date, and with the way things were, she had barely enough time to go home and shower, and all this was because of an infuriating and an irresponsible parent. The parent of the last child left in her nursery.

She was the only teacher left in the school, and she could see the pitiable glances each teacher casted her way as they left, that alone made her fume.

Unfortunately, this was not the first time Mr. Johnson had showed up late to pick his daughter, neither was it the fifth, and regardless, he always had some flimsy excuse to defend his behavior. The first few times, Dinma had presumed it was the Lagos traffic or even work, but when he had the effrontery to come pick his daughter with a barely dressed lady who couldn't keep her hands to herself, and had come the next day with a different kind of lady, Dinma seethed.

When she first started, she had always wondered about the child's mother. And in her curiosity, she had met the other teachers in the school, and they had told her about Mrs. Johnson's mysterious death. According to them, Mrs. Johnson had died after a dinner with his family when Zara was barely a year old.

The sleeping child yawned and adjusted sleepily in her arms making her fully aware of the child and the situation. Then she checked her wrist watch again and groaned, if Mr. Johnson decides to show up, she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

She should feel pity for the man who had no wife, or mother for his child, but she didn't. In truth, she was annoyed with him, disappointed even. The fact that he whored around Lagos, knowing he was a dad, was infuriating.

And just then, his very familiar, and luxurious sedan drove into the compound. And after he had killed his engine, a young man probably in his late twenties or early thirties walked out gracefully from the car. He had his shirt buttoned all the way to his collar, and his sleeves were rolled to his forearm. He wore a gray pair of trousers, and as he walked towards her, she noticed, he oozed an air of confidence. His face, she had always admired; from his clean haircut, to his neatly shaved beard, but that day was different, his face was that of the parent who had left a three-year-old in school.

And with a new found anger, she marched towards him with his sleeping daughter, on her stilettos.

"I'm so sorry..." he began his usual apologies, but she cut him off with a smack on his face.

She too was shocked at herself as she felt her palm sting, but she didn't care, she was mad annoyed at that point.

"Okay, I deserved that." He uttered as he flexed his jaw. "God you hit like a man!"

"What kind of a father are you, Mr. Johnson?"

"Look, young lady." He replied in a breath "I'm sorry for the inconveniences, but I won't stand here and listen to you question the way I parent my child."

Dinma was taken aback "Parent your child? do you call what you do parenting?"

Mr. Johnson let out a sigh "I don't have your time." Then he reached to carry his daughter, being careful so as not to wake her, he placed her gently in the toddler seat, fastened in the passenger seat.

"You don't have my time?" she asked, flushed in fury. "Do you realise that you just wasted mine?"

"I've apologized, what else do you want from me? Kiss your ass?"

She fumed "You imbecile!"

He let out a chuckle instead, and much to her annoyance, it was a rich melody "It's a pleasure. Let me give you a ride home. I like to help the less privileged." He had the audacity to smile, revealing his perfect white dentition.