Gray Skies

The old banger

Chapter 11

The old banger

I start thinking about my recent trip back home, a miracle as it were. How I ended up there at just the right time. Few months ago, when my father had his first heart attack, the doctors said he has just over a month to decide where he wants his bypass done. That’s plenty of time, so we thought. I debate whether I want to go and perform my duty as a son in the middle of the month, or at the end of it. It’s not an easy choice, with no apparent reason for haste

I could meet my girl friend in the middle of the month and then later on just turn up and help my family out. Perfect!

Or is it?

He is your father, she’s your girl friend, who you going to put first? You make me sick you know?

But I haven’t seen her in ages, I don’t get to, she lives so far.

So what? So does your family! God forbid you might not get to see your father again. Get your priorities straight.

Rationality slaps me across the face, leaving me with marks on my face in the form of guilt and shame, dripping off my face. It brings me to my senses.

The same night I book my ticket and a day before my departure my mother calls me on my mobile while I’m at work and advises me to postpone it a bit longer.

“Maybe till the end of the month beta, why don’t you come a bit later, there is no need right now, maybe nearer the time? Can you change your seat?” she asks, ignorant about the way expedia.com works, always trying to make money off their valuable customers, yet the only way they would wave cancellation fee is under the bereavement act.

Furious, imagining everything I had planned if I had met my girl friend in a matter of milliseconds. I burst out with emotional rage, careful of not lashing out at my mother and making it her fault, rather looking for the “I’m the victim” vote.

“maa! what? Are you serious? No I can’t change it, id lose a lot on cancellation for one. Aargh, why didn’t you just tell me before?, I could have…”

“How was I suppose to know beta?” she cuts me off

“ok don’t get angry, don’t worry just come, well see you at the airport, papa needs to call the doctor now, email me your details ok?” she hangs up.

How did she know I was angry? I was so sure I was calm and was just saying.

My mothers always been particular about her respect, quickly cutting off conversations if she has even the slightest hint that words could act as war heads and cause destruction to her tower of self respect. She’s always taught me that. Your respect is in your own hands beta, the wise words echo in my head.

I catch my ill timed flight, no delays this time which is a relief, it’s on the same day as the London bombings. The que stretched for at least 4 miles before the airport exit. People getting out of their taxis, deciding to walk even though the light shower is making their shirts dark around the throat and shoulders. I arrive at my house, after the 7 hour plane journey, the 3 hour bus ride and car ride. Still bitter about missing out on meeting my girl friend, hand in hand dancing, gliding, swaying in the rink, as the sharp blades shaves ice to its side with every movement.  She loves ice skating, although she’s never done it, I promised her I’d take her.

“But I don’t know how to skate”

“You stupid kuti, don’t worry, I’ll teach you”

“Oh listen to you Mr.ice skating champion man”