Never Again

Mama calls me from the kitchen, her voice shaky, fear wrapped its arms around her words, “Junior, come help me here, it’s almost time”. As I came out of my room where I had be staring at my PV ceilings, thinking of my life, I walked reluctantly to the kitchen. Mamas hands were trembling, she almost dropped a plate while arranging them in the cupboard. I looked at my once beautiful mom, her black eyes were heavy with tears, her heart beat fast off her chest, her hands resonating the fear in her mind, and she looked pathetic. I could not help the tears.
“Why are you crying junior?” she asked, the tears rolling freely from her cheeks. I just stood there, transfixed. The transformation that happened in my family since daddy…

We used to be a small happy family. We had all the things we needed, or should I say, all the things I needed, that’s because I am the only child. Mum and dad had been married for a year before I was born. After six years of having me they still had no other child. I loved the idea of being the only child but sometimes I wished I could share the chores with somebody. That never really bothered me bacause mom always helped me with them. We did just fine with the chores. After returning from her workplace by 2pm, mom and I would cook, clean, wash, and talk. I loved the talking part the most. Mom was my best friend. I love daddy too even though he was not always around. He took me out whenever he was free, mostly on weekends. We argued a lot on football. Dad was a Chelsea fan and I was a Manchester united fan. Matches between united and Chelsea are my best days. We would bet on the winner. Whoever lost the bet would be punished. Dads punishment was either buying a big cup of ice-cream for me to finish or a big bowl of popcorn. Sometimes I wished united lost so I would enjoy. Our family was perfect. At age six I understood the meaning of a happy family, my family. I had a beef for daddy because he was the only one mom kissed in the lips while she kissed me on my cheek. I loved us, not until…

Granny used to be my favorite grandparent when I was two. She was my fathers’ mother. She always told me stories whenever she came to our house. With her folded arms around her fallen breasts, she would sit on the couch, me between her legs staring intently into her eyes as she told me stories of the tortoise, the elephants, the masquerades, Miss koi koi and the rests. She always had a way of keeping me spellbound. Her tortoise stories were my favorite. I liked the tortoise. I liked his cleverness and trickery. Granny always made me want to be a storyteller. But when I became four years old she changed. She did not tell me stories again, she no longer called me her husband, she left my mom crying after every discussion they had. She became bad blood. After a while her bad blood robbed off on daddy

Daddy was not the perfect father, neither was he the perfect husband but he was a great man. Sometimes he had issues with my mom- they argued a few times- but they resolved it before morning. After every argument, which was once in like five months, mom gets up in the morning looking brighter than the previous night. She would sing joyfully while we worked in the afternoon. He eyes glowing. They never fought just simple quarrels. I would ask mom one day why they quarreled. “Humans are not perfect. We have to disagree sometimes to agree” she told me with her assuring smile. I believed mom. I never asked her again concerning their small quarrels. Then after granny left with her bad blood, having stayed in the house for almost a year, they now quarreled more. The arguments became louder, took much longer before they settled and the glow never returned. I did not ask mom about this because I believed her humans-have-to-disagree-to-agree philosophy. I broke the no-asking-mom-questions-on-humans-disagreeing-to-agree when I woke up one morning to find mom with a black eye…

9 thoughts on “Never Again” by oxymorontalks (@oxymoron93)

  1. Daddy has started hitting mummy, bad! I pity the boy.

  2. Great storyline but it needs thorough editing.

    1. oxymorontalks (@oxymoron93)

      Okay, i would work on that

  3. Ufuoma Otebele (@ufuomaotebele)

    Hmmm we really aren’t perfect…

  4. Aderonke Daramola (@Shovey)

    I guess grandma must av cum to quarrel about the inability to give more grand children. #NigerianMarriageIssues #justThinking

    1. oxymorontalks (@oxymoron93)

      Yes. She started the wahala

  5. What a nice rendition of domestic violence…

  6. Domestic voilence in the family et al….


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