“Eno! Eno!! Eno!!!” Young David screamed. “Why is my food
not ready”?
I came out of the bathroom while having my bathe. I was using the detergent I salvaged washing his clothes from dusk till dawn of the previous
day and the lather was still over my body. I grabbed my patched piece of ankara fabrics I use as my towel to quickly
cover my aging body. There was really nothing to be ashamed of having
lived the better part of my fleeting life.
I missed my step as I paced down the stairs to meet him in
the living room downstairs.
“Yes oga” my voice shook from the excruciating pain
I felt, kneeling before him.
“Are you deaf? You this good-for-nothing scanty old fool”
Before I could say anything, he replied in an even harsher
tone.
“I’ll be leaving for the office in 10 minutes” the arrogant
bank manager said “and de no born you well if my food never ready”.
I left for the kitchen limping from my sprained ankle while
coming down the stairs. Like I knew what was coming I’d already fixed his
breakfast and had it packed – Bread, baked beans, fried eggs and Mango juice. I
took it straight to his car and kept it on the foot mat of the owner’s
corner.
Do I really deserve this? I thought for a second. It’s been 32
years still my heart can’t let go. I blamed myself for what happened many years ago. "I should
never have left, I really shouldn’t have" nodding my head in regret.
The lather on my body had already dried up by the time I was
done from the kitchen. Had to do the dishes and boil beans with the pressure
pot using low heat, against dinner. Needed to buy time so I could rinse my body
or even have my bath afresh when Young David had gone. All through yesterday, I
worked all day that I barely had time to take my bath. My back was aching really bad. I hoped I could steal a few minutes to see a doctor while oga was away.
“Eno! Eno!! Eno!!!” Young David screamed.
I’d gotten use to his shouting already. I went to him and
told him the food was in his car already. He walked passed without saying any other word.
Hours later, I got a call from Young David to prepare the
guest rooms and that I should fix eba and ogbono soup with goat meat as against
the beans. He said we’ll be having 3 guests over for the New Year celebration.
I quickly went to get a few things from the market at the end of the street.
This would be the first guests on a New Year eve in my 5 years of stay.
While setting the table having fixed dinner, I replayed that
fateful day my baby was taken from me. I was only 17 years old . I cried my eyes out, especially because my baby was barely a year old. I kept my
distance from them and vowed never to come close until the shocking news about my son’s alleged demise. The sharp hunk from Young David’s car broke my thoughts. It was just
about time when I had gotten the table set. I went upstairs to look a bit
presentable. I wouldn’t want oga’s guest thinking low of him when they see me I muttered.
My heart skipped when I saw the guests. With my face down,
the unfathomable thought rang through my head…What if they find out? I stifled
a deep sigh of relief as the guests headed straight to the dining table while I
took their bags into the rooms. I wanted to escape but how could I pull this? I
wasn’t expecting this, not this soon. It was young David’s dad, mom and his youngest sister, Dami.
“Eno are you foolish or hadicapped? Come here and clean this
water that mama spilled”.
Trying to avoid eye contact, I proceeded to wipe the puddle
of water that was steadily soaking the table cloth. I risked a peek at mama’s
wrinkled face, how can she be so docile after living a lie all these years?
“Will you get your sluggish-wrinkled-stinking silly self from here” Young David yelled.
Papa jerked in surprise at those foul words. I spun around
to escape from their midst when the napkin mistakenly pulled one of the glass
cups.
Dami sitting next to mama, quickly reach out to the falling glass cup as
I did same in reflex. I quickly turned my face away knowing she had seen me
properly.
“Sister Bola!!!” Dami exclaimed, calling me by my first name.
All eyes focused on me.
Young David was perplexed asking what was going on. Papa
coughed repeatedly and reached out for his glass of water.
“Who is Sister Bola?" Confused Young David asked.
"Are you referring to Eno my maid?”
“Hush” papa’s deep voice spoke calmly as ever. I knew this
was the end of the road for the poor lad.
I spoke firmly for the first time to Young David,
"I am
not Eno, I am Bola your biological mother".
On hearing my testimony, proud
Young David broke into tears and their minds sagged.
