Episode 3

Bryan turned to look at me, his beautiful blue eyes filled with rage,

'Goddammit, you didn't tell your folks I was white?' he asked screaming.

'Emm, I, I ,' I stuttered

'Babe, I flew over five fucking thousand miles to see your folks and it never occurred to you for once to mention that your folks didn't know I was white,' he asked, still incensed

'Onye ka o n'akpo folks,' (who is he calling folks?)my mum asked. I ignored her.

'Baby, I forgot,' I whispered, still crying

'How convinient. How on earth did you forget such vital detail?'

It wasn't fair. They were ganging up on me, first my parents, and now Bryan.

'Baby don't worry, I would fix this,' I said, placing my head on his shoulders, 'I promise.'

My father scoffed and increased the volume of his radio as Osadebe's voice filled the car.

My father hadn't changed. I thought six years apart would have softened him a little, but I was wrong. My father was a prime example of the strict father model. He had always been of the opinion that children learnt better through rewards and punishment. Growing up, I thought he was the most wicked man on earth. His slaps were legendary and the threat of them was enough to knock me in place. People always remarked that I looked like my father but staring at him now, we couldn't be any more different. Standing at 6ft4, he was very imposing. He was already balding and it gave his head a distinct glow. My mum occasionally stroking it as he drove.

My mum had surprised me the most. The way she swayed her head to the beats of the joint, oblivious to the storm that was brewing in my head. I was her only daughter, her only child at that and she left me high and dry. It was so unlike her. She was my partner in crime, my confidante or had six years changed all that? My mother was the exact opposite of my dad. She was the only one that didn't make me feel adopted.

A memory of the day I damaged my dad's favourite wristwatch came to my mind. I was bouncing on my dad's bed several years ago. He asked me to stop but I didn't. The spring bounce made me excited. That was till I bounced up and his leather wristwatch, which was a gift from my mum bounced off the bed and landed on the marble floor. I didn't need to wait for any divination to know that I had cracked the face. I took it, my heart in my mouth to my mother.

'Kamsi, nna gi ga egbu gi taa,' (Kamsi, your daddy will kill you today) she said as she looked at the wrist watch.

'Mummy, biko help me,' I said, panicking.

'Help you do what, biko go and report yourself to your father,' she replied and continued cooking.

I fell to the kitchen floor, my tear ducts exercising their rights to cry. My father would literally kill me. He had warned me to get down from the bed. I wished I had listened. Still rolling on the floor, my dad walked into the kitchen.

'Are you possessed, why are you rolling on the floor,' he said, his voice reverberating.

I jumped up, his wristwatch falling off my hands. He picked it up,

'Kedu onye kuwara ife a,' (who broke this thing) he asked, staring at me.

I wanted to disappear. I looked at my mum, silently promising to wash her clothes for the next two months. She caught the drift immediately and cut him off.

'Why are you looking at kamsi like that? So if something breaks, it is her?

'It is question I'm asking o,' my father responded.

'You won't kill this girl for me o.'

My mother's remarks gave me the confidence to speak up.

'Daddy, I saw the wrist watch on the floor and I decided to show mummy,'

The lie was smooth. He looked calm. The storm in him had passed. I had survived. He took a long look at me, then at my mother, and walked out of the kitchen.

That was my mother for you. She was my ally, so I wondered why she was acting this way. I looked at Bryan, he was staring out the window, probably confused. Scratch that, definitely confused. I looked out the window too. My mum's hand stroking my dad's head got me nauseous. They had gotten closer in my absence. The car branched into Zik's avenue. I knew Zik's avenue and it wasn't the way home. We were definitely going the wrong way. I poked my mum

'Did we move out from Okpara's avenue,' I asked

She didn't even turn back at all.


'So where are we going?' I said, persistent

'Nne ajusina m(stop asking me), when we get there, you will see.'

That shut me up. My mum had never addressed me in such manner.

In less than thirty minutes, the car ground to a halt. We had arrived at the supposed destination. My father turned back to address Bryan.

'This is Primak Hotel. The owner is a family friend, so its like our second home. You would be staying here for the rest of your visit. Just go in and tell the receptionist that chief sent you.'

I looked around. Primak was like our second home? Did I hear my dad correctly? Did we even know the owner of the hotel? Bryan opened the door and looked at my father.

'Ok sir, thanks alot.'

He got down from the vehicle and came around to open my door. I got down quickly, linking my hands with his. My father spoke up instantly.

'Yes, young girl, where do you think you are going to?'

'Biko enter the car let's go, you would see him tomorrow,' my mum added.

I was shell shocked. This was certainly not happening. I couldn't leave Bryan in this hotel all by himself. I didn't trust Lagos girls at all. I read their stories on the Internet. What was wrong with me? This was Bryan's first time in Nigeria, I was about to be separated from him and what bothered me most was Lagos girls. I wanted to argue, but thought better about it. It was better to lose this battle and win the war later. I reached out and hugged him.

'I would be back tonight dear, don't worry.' I whispered in his ears. He nodded.

Thank God Nneka was home. We were going to have to plan my escape.
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