I’ve missed a couple days of the 30 Day Writing Challenge I’m doing. Rather than ignore the missed days, I’ve decided to incorporate every one of the missed prompts into this single post. Challenging, but I’m Superman soo
Day 9: Your last kiss
Day 10: Your views on drugs and alcohol
Day 11: Your current relationship
Day 12:Things you want to say to an ex
Day 13: A date you would love to go on
I remember us sitting on my bed, his arms around me, comforting me. He was the only one I had and so I told him everything. He was my best friend.
He told me it was okay to cry, to be sad, to feel how I felt. We we’re talking about Yusuf and I had just shown him the letter Yusuf had just sent me.
My dad was my hero, he was my everything. He wasn’t spectacular, neither did he have super powers; my hero regardless.
Somehow, we started to talk about mum. We almost always ended up talking about mum. He would cry.
I cannot sleep
I hate psychedelics, a lot. I despise anything that alters reality. While there’s a little religious angle to my reason, the bulk of it is based on the effects they have had on people I care about. One uncle, and her; mum.
Mum was a junkie and a drunk. How she got into it, I never knew. Dad and her kept it from me. Her narcotics addiction was tolerable as she, well, relative to the drinking, kept it at a sane level.
She would go out and return home reeking of alcohol. Dad tried his best but could never get her to stop.
I remember the day we lost her. She died that day and a part of me died.
Mid term break. It was around 6:30pm when mum decided to ‘go out’. I knew she was going to drink. She had come to my room where she kissed my forehead and said she would be back soon. Before Yusuf, this was my last kiss.
Mum never returned.
On her way back, while crossing the road, she made a very terrible mistake. A truck was approaching, headlights bright. ‘Look at these two okadas, I will pass their middle. Awon ode’, she had said.
You can guess what happened next.
I never saw her corpse, didn’t go to her burial either
Dad’s world crumbled. As did mine. We only had each other now. I like to think losing mum was the turning point in our relationship. We had always been cool, but now, we were close. He was my best friend.
– Yusuf, what have you done? I think to myself –
I know I have wronged you, Chidinma. I understand how you feel. But I swear to you, I didn’t think you would interpret it as this. You know I wouldn’t do such a thing to you.
I don’t want this to be a letter to my ex.
My dad read the letter and embraced me even harder. I couldn’t tell him what exactly had happened and he understood. He didn’t badger. He told me he trusted me.
Dad loved telling me stories from his childhood. They always cheered me up. He held my hand and told me the story about the last time his mum whooped his ass. I loved that story and I had heard it a million times, yet, I never failed to laugh. We both laughed between sniffles because he liked to pretend to cry, for effect; made the story better.
And then he started coughing. Laughing triggered it. His disease. His sickness. The cough was a friendly reminder that he was dying.
I reasoned with Yusuf. I knew he loved me and would never hurt me, and that I could always feel safe around him. 2 years later now and we’re doing fine. We just came back from Obudu Cattle Ranch in Cross River. I had always wanted to go on a date there. We’re happy.
Dad is gone, by the way.