FINALLY HOME
I was only thirteen.
There was a time when I would have played
referee. There was a time when I would have
joined them in shouting at the top of my voice in
a bid to bring back peace. A time when I would
have wept bitterly, pleading with my parents to
stop. But not anymore.
Now I am just their non-cheering audience. Now I
weep bitterly but silently. I just watch since realising that this was their most enjoyed time.
This was their most heated moment. It was only
fair of me to let them be even though it was one
- among many others - of their ways to torture
me. One minute they were lovers in a world of
their own, the next they were enemies but still
manage to remain in one world.
They kept arguing. Mum was flapping her hands.
Dad was hollering with his head bobbing up and
down. Mum bent to pick something.....
And suddenly, her five inches block heels came
flying in my direction. I quickly duck. They didn't
miss a beat. Mum was screaming like a banshee.
Someday she would scream the house down.
I do not remember how or when but suddenly the
shoe was in my hands and flying with vengeance
across the room. It missed them but made
contact instead with the vase by the TV. It
crashed.
I swore for the first time ever and unconciously
balled my fists, waiting. Silence. Deafening
silence. The banshee had stopped screaming.
Dad's jaw was almost touching the ground. A
cold shiver ran down my spine but I quelled it,
looked at them squarely and still waited. Ten
seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. Mum made to move
towards me but dad stopped her. Another ten
seconds of stillness before I stomped into my
room banged the door (Another thing I never do)
and screamed. I thought the very foundations
shook.
Then slowly, like a parachute descending from
the sky, I came back down to earth. And with
that the sudden realisation that I had to leave.
Not for fear of them, no. But for me. For the
sake of my sanity. For the sake of had I known.
For their sake. For fear of What I would turn into
if I didn't. Grandma had always pleaded that I
moved in with her. But I had insisted on playing
referee. Now I know better. My parents would
never kill them selves. They enjoyed quarelling
too much to do that. That night I packed. By
morning I was ready to leave. After much
deliberation, I decided to leave them a note.
Four hours later I was knocking on Grandma's
door. She opened and one look at me, held out
her arms without questioning. I ran into them.
My eyes by now were two pools of agony.
"I should have come a long time ago"
"Ssshhh," grandma hushed, "you're here now"
She rubbed her hands over my back mumuring
sweet nothings.
I knew I was home. Finally.
As for my parents, they never called. Never
came. I thought it was better that way.
Faith Igwemadu is a fashion designer from Anambra state, currently residing in Lagos, a lover of 'Literature', lover of life and a writer.
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