As I stepped out of the airport, the scorching Nigerian sun slapped me in the face, jolting me back to reality. Eight long years had passed since I'd last set foot in this country, and the nostalgia was almost suffocating.
" Mitchelleeee! Maryyy!!" Mary's squeal pierced the air as she flung her arms around me, her enthusiasm infectious. Frank, ever the calm and collected one, chuckled and shook his head, amused.
"You'd think you guys were separated at birth," he said, grinning. "I mean, who would believe we just spent a week together in Dubai last month and still can't get enough of each other? It's amazing how our friendship remains unbroken, even after all these years."
Our group handshake, perfected over years of friendship, ended with a resounding "Bam!" as we shared a laugh. For a moment, I forgot about the tension and anxiety that had been building up inside me since I'd received the invitation to my father's 70th birthday celebration.
As we exited the airport, Lagos' vibrant chaos enveloped us-a jarring contrast to the orderly American streets I'd grown accustomed to. A cacophonous welcome of horns, hawkers and humming engines. Gazing out, memories flooded back.
As Frank navigated the chaotic roads, Mary's chatter filled the silence with Frank's occasional responses. "Do you remember the time we all......." My mind was clouded. I didn't really pay attention to all she said but that didn't stop her. It never did.
We drew closer to the entrance of my family's estate. The imposing gate loomed before us, its extravagance a stark reminder of my family's wealth and status. My heart began to race with anticipation and dread. What would it be like, returning to the family I'd left behind?
"Rich Igbo men and their design choices," I quipped, shaking my head in wry amusement.
Frank and Mary exchanged a knowing glance, aware of the tense relationships within my family.
Upon arriving at the estate, Johnson, the security personnel, stepped out of the gatehouse.
"Welcome to the estate. May I have your names, please?" he asked.
Frank replied, "We're Frank, Mary, and Mitchelle. We're here to visit."
Johnson's eyes locked onto me. "Ah, Mitchelle... Madame's daughter."
I smiled slightly. "Yes, that's me."
Johnson's expression transformed. "Wow, you've grown so much! It's been a while since I last saw you."
I felt a pang of awkwardness. "Yes, it has."
Johnson continued, "Alright, please drive in. Madame is expecting you."
We pulled up to the main house, and Mum stood by the entrance, her designer outfit gleaming in the sunlight. Beyond her, the manicured lawn bustled with activity. Vibrant balloons and Ankara-print streamers danced in the breeze. Workers arranged elegant tables with crisp linens, fine china and crystal glasses. Lanterns cast warmth across lush grass.
A majestic "Celebrating 70 Years of Excellence: Mr. Collins" banner stretched across the lawn, echoing Dad's pride in his achievements. The savory scent of jollof rice, egusi soup and other cuisines wafted through the air, mingling with muted conversations, laughter and occasional sound checks. Mum's strained expression betrayed a forced attempt at politeness, a thin-lipped smile that screamed "I'd rather be anywhere else."
"Mum" I said, stepping out of the car.
" Mitchelle," she replied, her voice as warm as a February morning, "welcome back."
We exchanged a hug, merely a formality lacking genuine affection.
Mary and Frank exited the car behind me, their presence a calming shield against my mother's chilly reception.
Frank offered a warm smile. "Hi, Auntie. Good to see you."
Mary slipped her arm through mine, her silent support a reminder I wasn't alone.
"Good afternoon auntie. Good to see you" Mary said afterwards.
Mum's gaze flicked to Frank and Mary, her expression softening slightly before refocusing on me. "Frank, Mary, thanks for picking Mitchelle up. Come in, all of you."
Her words were an invitation, but her tone hinted at obligation.
The workers swarmed around us, collecting my luggage and ushering us into the estate.
As we entered the mansion, I was struck by the eerie silence.
Where was everyone?
My step-siblings, Emeka, Chijioke, Nneoma, and little Ugo?
My father?
"Dad?" I asked Mum, trying to sound nonchalant.
"He's in his study," she replied, her eyes darting around the room. "He'll join us soon."
We made our way to the living room, where the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
I spotted Emeka and Chijioke, my older step-brothers, sitting on the couch, their faces stern.
Nneoma, my elder step-sister, stood by the window, her eyes fixed on me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.
Ugo, the youngest, broke away from her gaze and ran towards me, a bright smile on her face.
"Mitchelle!" she squealed, flinging her arms around me.
I hugged her tightly, feeling a surge of affection for the only person in my family who'd ever shown me genuine kindness.
"Hey, kiddo," I whispered, ruffling her hair.
Emeka cleared his throat, his voice dripping with condescension.
"Welcome back, Mitchelle. We weren't expecting you to return."
Chijioke nodded in agreement, his eyes narrowing.
"Yes, it's been a while."
Nneoma snorted, rolling her eyes.
"Eight years, to be exact."
I forced a smile, trying to ease the tension.
Mary, leaning against the wall with Frank by her side, interjected dryly, "I'm sure she's thrilled to see you all too."
My siblings, seemingly oblivious until then, finally noticed Frank and Mary's presence.
YOU ARE READING
The Black Sheep returns
Mystery / ThrillerEight years abroad haven't erased Michelle's memories or muted her anxiety. Now, returning to Lagos for her father's milestone birthday, she faces the family she left behind. But what secrets have they kept, and at what cost?
