The Wrong Family

The Problem

I felt deep down that something wasn't right.

When Molu told me the landlord had only one son and child, I didn't think it was a big deal.

It's just a son after all, right?

Well, no!

When we moved into the apartment, I discovered that the 'only son' meant a full grown man that was about Molu's age. Meaning a thirty years old man with full blown beards who wasn't disabled, neither was he living with or 'trying to help' disabled parents. He was just living with them.

My first shock was when the parents introduced him to us. It was all shades of awkward.

"Have you met our boy?" The mother asked the second day of our arrival.

"Did she just say boy?" I groaned inwardly. I could tell Molu wasn't the least excited too.

"He has made a choice to live with us. Isn't that sweet?"

"Oh! My god! Somebody please tell this woman to stop talking."

We exchanged pleasantries and handshakes and I was sure I didn't imagine 'the only son's" handshake been longer than normal.

I withdrew my hand as quickly as I could and vowed never to have anything to do with the full grown 'thirty years old son' who seemed to be living comfortably with his parents.

Something about the introduction made me suspect the landlord's family had a problem. Whatever it was, I was going to make sure Molu and I maintained our distance.

It's not that I was scared of them. I just wanted to mind my newly married-life business.

That simple.

If at all they get to know me, one thing will be clear- I'm a lady with good eyesight.

Let's all keep that in mind and laugh.