Light in the shadows

7: Uninvited guests

HAYTHEM

SEPTEMBER, 2022.

A breath of satisfaction was released the moment the front door slid close, my formally tensed muscles relaxing. The blinds were closed, the bright lights were off leaving the minimal ones on, and the furnitures which shared equal low intensity made the place look even darker.

Just how I like it.

I did well in making myself a cup of matcha coffee in the kitchen. This plus the other three I had earlier today making four cups of coffee. I needed it in my system. Or someone was going to pay for my ruined mood.

The involuntarily clash I had with my father stirred up some emotions I'd tried so hard to keep below on the radar. And all credits goes to Uncle—whom I equally share the same resentment for, as his elder brother. I still couldn't measure the depth of the hatred I had for the two, it was difficult to measure, because each individual had their own portion of poison.

The last time I met him was two years ago, ever since I relocated to THE steel's branch in Wall Street. His unbearable presence was the initial reason I had left Nigeria and decided to work at the other branch. Unfortunately, some unforeseen circumstances and events caused me to return back here.

During the six months I had spent here, I hadn't seen him nor his wife. Life was better that way. But the devil incarnate himself had to wreck my six good months of peace by not informing me of my father's arrival at the office. He was the Chairman of all our family's conglomerate, but most people barely knew what he even looked like. Bumping into him at the office was the last thing I had expected.

If I knew he'd be present, I'd have taken the day off of work. Because I physically and mentally couldn't stand being in his midst for longer than an hour without losing my shit.

I exited the premises the moment he spoke to me. It was either that, or an argument or me saying something that could hospitalize the old man was bound to take place.

I soaked myself up in the hot tub for more than thirty minutes, allowing the heat to flow through my skin till I felt the warmth from within. By the time I was satisfied, my skin had turned bright red, hair drenched while the water dripped down on the tile of my bathroom. I stared at the man from the reflection and he looked nothing like the man people viewed him to be.

This Haythem was vulnerable.

Throwing on a black T-shirt and a synonymous black sweatpants, I proceeded to the garage where the 1965 Mustang which I had bought from a local dealer at the Mediterranean islands where they have plentiful source of cheap, rot-free classics, especially considering their depressed economies.

It was rusty, the engine could run but the interior wasn't exactly in a good shape. I had already assessed the car two days ago to make plan for the restoration process. The corner of my lips twitched upwards as I gave the car a full once over.

I put on the safety glasses and gloves—because at the end of the day, my life is my top priority. The basic hand and power tools were now on the holster on my waist as I began disassembling the car. I proceeded using an impact wrench for removing stubborn bolts on the engine components which was trying to give me a hard time. But the truth was I could never get tired of this. It was the second thing I enjoyed after work. Third being golf.