Beyond expectations

Episode 6: tragic turn

Damilola felt her soul crumbling. If she decided to look for her mother, perhaps to plead for her return, she had no idea where to start. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her legs weakened, and she collapsed into a chair, crying furiously. This wasn't the plan she had envisioned from the start. She never imagined things would reach this state. Without her mother's support, it would be hard for her father alone to pay for her and her brother's school fees. Determined to help, she decided to get an after-school job to assist, knowing they would no longer have their mother's support, especially financially. She wiped her tears, went to her room, and got dressed for school. If she had been taking the school bus, she would have missed it by now, but she couldn't even afford a good meal, let alone the bus fare.

The walk to school was chaotic, with everyone running hither and thither to earn a living. It seemed like everyone was struggling, both the white and the black. She shrugged and focused on school, thinking, "Things can't get any worse."

But deep down, the weight of her family's troubles gnawed at her. Each step felt heavier than the last, her shoes worn thin from miles of worry and despair. She glanced at the bustling streets, the cacophony of life around her, and wondered if anyone else felt as lost as she did

Little did she know, things were about to get worse. Mr. Adeshina slumped at work that very day. The tragic events at home had taken a toll on him, but according to the doctor, he had low blood sugar. The doctor asked if he was maintaining a balanced diet, but how could he afford such with his current condition? The doctor advised him to take care of his health if he didn't want to die. Mr. Adeshina's heart broke. He didn't know what to do anymore. Life was throwing stones at him, and now he had to nurture his health too.

He strolled by the bridge and looked into the water. The reflection staring back at him was one of a man beaten down by life. Suicidal thoughts crossed his mind, but he decided not to give up because of his kids, especially Damilola. He knew that whether he was present or absent, Victor wouldn't care as long as money kept coming.

Standing on the bridge, he watched the water ripple, carrying away his silent tears. "What kind of father am I?" he thought. "I can't provide, I can't protect. What use am I to them?" He clenched the railing, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. For his children, he would endure. They needed him more than ever.

Aishat got a job after school and started to assist the family. Each day was a struggle, juggling her studies and work, but she persisted. Her brother, Victor, on the other hand, began stealing her hard-earned money to drink with his friends. Stealing became a habit for him. He no longer stole only at home but also from other people. Sometimes he got arrested and bailed out, going in and out of jail as if it were a vacation.

Despite her efforts, the family was falling apart. Victor stopped schooling, deciding that school wasn't his "thing," despite Aishat's attempts to persuade him otherwise. He seemed to have made up his mind and wasn't going back.

Days turned into weeks, and the home phone rang, shattering the silence of their small apartment. Damilola answered, a sinking feeling in her chest. She was told her father had slumped at work again. Her heart pounded in her ears as she asked for the hospital address and rushed there, only to find her father covered in a white sheet, being rolled to the mortuary.

She became confused and told herself, "That can't be my dad. Let me see the doctor first." Crying furiously, she rushed to the doctor's office, hoping there was a mistake. She met the doctor and introduced herself, clinging to the last shred of hope. Instead, the doctor confirmed her father had died from low blood sugar.

Her world shattered in an instant. She felt her heart clutch as if a vice had gripped it. She fell to her knees and cried profusely, her sobs echoing through the sterile hospital corridor. She didn't know what to do anymore or where to go. All her hope seemed dashed, and she began to throw a fit.

"My father," she thought, "the one person who never gave up on us, who fought till his last breath. How could he be gone?" The weight of the world seemed to crash down on her at once. She thought of the nights she had worked late, hoping to ease his burden, only to return home to see his weary smile. "I'm sorry, Dad," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

The emptiness felt suffocating, the loss unbearable. Aishat's tears mixed with the cold, sterile tiles of the hospital floor. She had been the strong one, the one who held everything together, but now she was broken. She didn't know how she would go on, but she knew she had to. For her father's memory, for herself, for her fractured family.