Efa wakes up, yawning. He looks at me, smiles, then over at the back door. ''they aren't done yet?''
I shake my head and continue to look at him. His eyebrows furrows. ''what?''
''the hospital called. It's my dad.''
Realization crosses his eyes. He knows about the liver failure. ''how is he?''
''The same...but he's holding on...''
''I hope he gets better.'' But we both know my father is hanging on a thin thread that would snap any moment. I close my eyes. I cannot let him die alone.
Efa squeezes my hand ever so gently, and I am thankful that I have him. I want to beg him never to be like my father, I want to plead to him to never ruin our family, but Madey comes out of the house to let us know the party has started.
As Memunah opens presents for the baby in her and pretends to not be emotional, I can't help but smile. Isn't this the Memunah who had vowed to never marry? I look around, at my mother, my sisters, and their husbands, grandma and my aunts and uncles.
If you would have asked me, fifteen years ago that this would ever happen, I would not have believed it. Research showed that childhood trauma, no matter the form it took - whether from a scary encounter with a clown from a birthday party, or from the sounds of your parents screaming at the top of their lungs at each other for the whole city to hear, from sexual abuse from a family member meant to be trusted, it played a huge part on how we would turn out as adults.
Some people would crumble, fall apart, and subconsciously do whatever it took to make another person feel the way they did, some people would want nothing more than to escape from those memories, and others simply grew from it. God only knows how my sisters and I didn't grow up hating men and the world that harbored them.
Maybe the terrible things that happen in our lives – in our families is not a reason to run away or hate our history. Maybe life, in its weird and complex way sought to teach us lessons – no matter how cruel those lessons are. Maybe they are meant to makes us stronger, wiser, to expect the unexpected and make the best out of it, even if some people have to suffer for those lessons to be understood.
thank you for reading my little short story. I hope you enjoyed it. what do you think about it? let me know in the comment sections. much love
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SOUR SUGAR #projectnigeria
Short StoryA short story about growing up in a home that seemed to be holding on by a thin thread, torn apart by a father's infidelity and the inevitability of it.
