He came again. This time twice as drunk as the night before. I could hear him whispering the victory song of the ‘fifteen men on the dead man’s chest’ with a ‘yo ho ho and a bottle of rum’. I knew no prayers would work to make him go upstairs and have a good rest. So I undressed before he could come in and command it with a blow on my sorry face.
He came in and saw my legs wild open with my gaze faced at the wall. He smiled mischievously in satisfaction ‘You are learning fast, girl. Goooooooood!’. He came in once again, with the stinking smell of his liquor permeating my breath. And once again I took comfort in a trip down memory lane, to fill my head and sanity with my favourite memory.
My Dad had just returned from the theatre with my Mum. Like the gentleman he was he rushed to open the doors for my mother. She came out laughing and happy while he whispered sweet things into her head. Then they both made their way to my room, I pretended to be sleeping. They came unto my bed and both kissed me. I heard them talking. My Dad had said ‘Patricia, this is the best gift you have given me in this life. I wish I will always be around to protect her and make sure she never cries or suffer in this life.’ My Mum had replied ‘Oh Emmanuel, what a darling you are. I wish she knows how much we love her and how much she means to us.’
The next morning my Dad had rushed into the kitchen and prepared breakfast. I woke up with a breakfast served on my bed by my parents. They both kissed me and wished me goodbye. I followed them down the garage with their luggage. ‘Papa’, I had said ‘don’t be too long this time. You promised we are going to go see The Ballerina.’ My Mum had replied instead promising ‘Oh he dares not. I will drug him and bring him back personally honey.’ We all laughed knowing it is something she can do.
My favourite memory was interrupted by a sudden fling of my waist to the flip side. The monster had decided to ride from behind. I could hear him come again, moaning in ecstasy from the faint distance of my thoughts. I wasn’t going to allow him to win by ruining my favourite memory, so I ignored the sharp pain that came from behind. It was as if he was closer to my mind now. Like the nightwalkers, I could feel him coming so close. I tightened my eyes and saw my father’s face. My father was near now, smiling and whispering to me like he always did whenever I am sad ‘Angel, it will all work out. You will be fine.’
In my heart, I wanted to ask him why did he die with my mother. I wanted to tell him his younger brother has betrayed him. To tell him I am no longer a virgin and that every night I am the sex toy of his brother’s lust. But the realities would break me. So I replied ‘tell me the story of how you met Mama again.’
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