Chapter 3 No. 3

In the afternoon, Bayo, Busola and I went to the sitting room to talk to Mr Johnson, my adopted father. That was what I had been referring him to since the day I realised he no longer wanted me. It was hard, but still calling someone who didn't want me my father was absurd. So now, he went by Mr Johnson to me. I wanted peace in this house and I badly wanted to reconcile with him. Maybe things would go back to how it was. But I knew I was taking a risk.

Mr Johnson had changed from the loving father he was to a pathetic abuser. Sometimes I had to empathise with him whenever he was sorrowful and looking dishevelled and other times, I felt like strangling him to death whenever he touched my adopted mother.

He stood there leaning against the wall and staring into space. His white shirt, unbuttoned, his hair, rough and...and... Unshaved. He had a bottle of tequila with him.

God, I bet he is drunk! I thought.

I took a step further to meet him as Busola tugged my cloth, whispering, "This is a wrong idea, please. Maybe another time. But not at this moment."

I looked at my eleven-year-old sister and sensed she was scared. Scared for every one of us.

"It's okay. My dad might hear us. It's now or never. It's your decision, Tosin. Do what you think is best for you." Bayo said.

With a sigh, I replied, "He's probably pensive not to hear us. Let me just do this. It might soften his heart." I smiled at them as I ruffled Busola's hair. This was too much for just an eleven-year-old girl. She was supposed to be happy and not be troubled with whatever was going on in this house.

I stepped forward and my heart started beating abnormally. For fear. Unknown fear.

"Dad?" I called before I realised I crossed my boundary by calling him 'Dad'. I bit the inside of my cheek and called out again. "Mr Johnson?"

He didn't hear me. He was no doubt pensive. I fearfully took another step to Mr Johnson and was greeted with the smell of cigarettes.

Oh really, he smokes now?

"Mr Johnson? Can I please have a word with you?"

Mr Johnson didn't move. He stood there like a statue. His mind was working but his body was still.

Hardly, I swallowed the lump in my throat due to the fear as beads of sweat started to form on my forehead.

I'm such a chicken! I thought. I was chickening out already!

I coughed loudly to announce my presence and he turned to face me with his bloodshot eyes!

I'm screwed! I just disturbed a lunatic that wouldn't wait for a second to rip my head off my neck.

"What is it you want?" he asked, his voice unfriendly.

"I want to talk with you," I said as I exhaled heavily. I didn't realise I had held my breath since my eyes met his bloodshot eyes. "I understand you don't want me here, because I'm a burden. You are a wonderful person. We all know something is wrong with you and it's all because of the insufficient money in this family. I know how happy you were before it was closed down. You loved your job. I know it. It energised you and gave you happiness. But we are your family. Family," I said, emphasizing the last word. I decided to give him a pep talk maybe it could change him. Perhaps he needed someone to have faith in him that things would turn out fine. "We believe in you. You are a loving father and I know that deep inside you, you care. And I care about you no matter what! But drinking and drowning in your problem would only add to your sorrow, Dad," I said and immediately felt a hard slap across my face before I was savagely shoved to the wall.

Well, then, I guessed I had spoken too much. Maybe I wasn't supposed to advise him. Maybe I wasn't supposed to care. I should have been in my room. Locked up with my Bayo and Busola. I felt my head suddenly heavy and saw a staggering figure coming my way with his fist clenched. He was drunk!

He pounded on me, giving me hard blows on my body, not sparing me at all. How this happened, I didn't know. Some minutes ago, I was standing and showing how much I cared and the next, I was on the floor. "Who the hell are you, huh? You don't know what it feels like... Like..." Blows continued to land on my face as he said each word. "You think I am useless, huh Tosin?" A hard punch met my nose and I could feel the blood coming out of my nostrils. He was taking it out on me. I only wanted his way of reasoning to change. To view himself as a useful person but he got the wrong idea.

"You know what Tosin, it's your decision to go to Ibadan to stay with my sister or stay here and get a hell of a beating when you cross your boundary with me!"

He was about to punch me again when Bayo spoke and with him now, was a knife. His hand was trembling. He was scared to death. He must have rushed to the kitchen to get that. "You touch her again, and I promise to stab you with this knife. Just leave her alone already! You've had enough! She only cares about you, she misses you and so do we. Just leave her alone!!"

Mr Johnson chuckled and shook his head. "Is it this timid Tosin that's telling you two to be courageous and have the guts to talk back at me?" He glared and walked toward them.

"N... no...not her, Dad," Busola said, shrieking and moving backwards till her back touched the wall.

"She is the one, right?" he asked again, taking slower steps to meet Busola, who was already looking back at the wall she was leaning against as if begging it to grow a mouth and conceal her in it. Just temporarily.

She shook her head vigorously, saying, "Not Tosin, Dad, not Tosin." She slid down to the floor and used her arms as a shield to cover her head from getting hit. "Don't hit me, Dad, please," Busola said, continuously begging as she sobbed which refrained him from laying his fingers on her. He then moved to Bayo unexpectedly and slapped him across his face. "You don't talk to your father anyhow! Have some respect!" he bellowed. That was so fast that I knew if Bayo had seen that coming, he would have escaped the slap.

He came back to me, glaring at me with his bloodshot eyes and said, "If you ever teach my children nonsense about disrespecting their father, you will see the other side of me."

Haven't I seen enough? I thought as I held my swollen lips.

Mr Johnson mischievously smiled at me, giving me one savage kick in my eyes. With pain and sadness, I began to feel the world spinning before welcoming the darkness.

_______

I slowly opened my eyes to a white painted room. The whole place was neat. So neat and bright... The instant thought that I was in Heaven literally jerked me up from lying in the bed to having my butt seated on it.

Oh my God! This can't be Heaven! I'm seriously not ready to die!

I looked around me and noticed I was getting a saline infusion. Does Heaven have hospitals? I must be crazy. I looked at my hand and removed the injection that was injected into my vein which allowed the saline to pass into my body. I removed it as gently as I could but unfortunately, blood came out immediately. Well then, I guessed I might have done it the wrong way. I saw a ball of cotton wool nearby and took some and wiped the blood away. Having done that, I went to the door and curiously opened it.

And there they were, Mrs Johnson, Busola, Bayo and granny, seated as they held each other's hand.

Were they dead too? Did my foster father beat them all to death after I blacked out? So we were all here in Heaven now?

I coughed and they looked up at me, expressionlessly. Could it be that I was the only one dead? They couldn't see me!

Wait, I was stupid. I scoffed at my foolishness, happy to realise I was alive since I could see blood coming out after I wrongly pulled out the injection accidentally from my vein.

Well, I am alive, I thought as I smiled.

Busola and Bayo came over and hugged me tightly and I returned it thinking I wouldn't trade them for anything. My adopted Mum and granny came over likewise and we hugged.

"I'm so sorry for whatever my son did to you," Mrs Biola Johnson said, sadness filling her eyes.

I smiled and bobbed my head.

Mrs Biola Johnson was in her eighties, beautiful and generous. She was a wonderful woman who didn't cross her boundaries and loved being by herself without interfering in another person's business. She was old and that was all she needed.

"It's okay, ma'am," I said, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Can we just go to the cafeteria to eat and talk?" Busola suggested and her stomach grumbled.

"Sure, honey."

We sat in the cafeteria eating hamburgers and soft drinks, except for my adopted Mum who took coffee alone.

"I'm sorry so so sorry, Tosin. I never should have refrained from not telling you sooner. That was selfish of me. And it was because I didn't want you to consider me as your adopted mother but as your biological one."

Confession time!

Mrs Rachel Johnson was thirty-seven years of age. Beautiful, loving, selfless and above all, strong.

"I adopted you when I was twenty-five years old. We were happily married. We waited for a year to have a child intentionally. We weren't rushing things. So when I turned twenty-six and still wasn't pregnant I became worried, by then I was ready. It was in my worried state that my sister-in-law, your aunt Sarah suggested I adopt. She told me to pick you."

I moved my head backwards and furrowed my eyebrows. I was shocked. "Why did she suggest you pick me...?"

"Tosin, let me finish. She didn't suggest, she insisted. She went to the orphanage with her friend who went to adopt. She said you were sad and hungry for love. She said she saw it in your eyes. And then, your Dad and I went to the orphanage and selected you. Did the necessary things to do before you were handed to us. But prior to that day, I saw your picture on her phone which made me identify you easily. It was so cute.

"We treated you like you were like our own biological daughter. Three years later, I had Bayo and then Busola after two years. See, I want you to know that your Father loves you. So much. He might probably be acting weird..."

"Not probably, darling, but he is," grannie said."Oh my God! It's not my joy to see my son like that. Thinking he's so useless. And with the little he has left, he spends it on purchasing beers. I'm so worried."

"It's okay, ma'am. It's going to be fine," my adopted mother said to grannie as she held her hands.

"So what do we do about Tosin then? I mean she's not getting kicked out, right?" Busola inquired.

"Nah, she isn't. Listen, Tosin, you aren't my biological daughter, fine, I just want you to view me as your real Mother. Accept us as your family. Consider us, please. You are going to continue living with us and you aren't going to stay with my sister-in-law, okay? And your education continues. Right now, I have gotten a job as a high school teacher, so don't worry, I will work while your father wallows in his sorrow, spending his little left money on beers and perhaps women too. Who knows? Tosin, I want you to consider us as a family to you, please."

I nodded. I thought this hard and the truth was just so plain. What more could I ask for. They loved me. Yeah, they were my family. And they would always be. Mrs Rachel and Biola Johnson were no longer my adopted anything, but my family.

I smiled at them, thinking they were mine. "I love you, Mum. I love you grannie and I love you kiddos." I didn't know I was going to feel emotional that tears slipped down my face.

I got discharged three days after the incident happened and was brought home. Home? Was this a home? No. It was just a house. I had seen how it went. It was home but a house now. There were lots of crises at home.

What could I do to stop this? What could I do? I had asked myself countless times. I was just a pathetic teenager who had fear running through her body. My mind flashed back to what Bisola and Toyin told me and how my siblings warned me too. I was stuck. Maybe the group could help?

"Ready?" my mother asked as she placed her hand on the doorknob, smiling.

I plastered a fake smile on my face. Yes, I was good at it. Smiling fakely. "Yes, ready, Mum," I said, and my heart pounded.

She opened the door and we both stepped inside the living room only for me to be greeted with the bad memory of what had happened to me three days ago.

I fainted, not lasting some seconds that I got in. I guessed I wasn't ready.