Her father was her best friend, and he knew that it would hurt her the most that he was leaving.
Clara watched as other students packed their bags. They could not wait to get home to their parents. The school was vacating for the term, and everyone wanted to be home for Easter, except Clara.
End of the Term
Clara sat on her bed without moving an inch or touching a thing for hours. She usually developed a cold feet each moment it was time to go home; she preferred to stay back in school, rather than face her parents and their fights.
“Clara!”
The matron in charge called her name from the dormitory door. Clara looked up, and she said:
“The driver is here for you.”
She heaved her weight off the spring bed, went to her wardrobe, and started packing for Easter break.
The Transfer
Clara comes back from school one term and finds her father packing. Her mother was screaming at him at the top of her voice, while she followed him around the house. She kept on saying :
“ No! You can’t go ahead with this transfer. Why didn’t you apply to be posted somewhere else? Must it be France? So that you can go back to her? Right?”
Her mother stopped in shock, immediately she met the questioning look in Clara’s eyes.
Her father saw her looking at them both, left what he was doing, and came close to carry her up. She was a little bit lean, she was only an eight year old, who happen to catch her parents, arguing for the first time. She normally heard them from her room, but it sounded more like a conversation than a fight. Her father was her best friend, and he knew that it would hurt her the most that he was leaving. He looked into her eyes, but she bent her face; it was obvious that she heard all that her mother said. He gave her a broad smile, and said :
“Honey, daddy is going to Paris.”
He waited for her usual response whenever he was about to go on his usual long travels, but she just looked into his eyes.
“Daddy will be back in a short while. Okay?”
He knew he just lied to her, and seeing her again might take a long while. The oil company had transferred him to France, and he was to go alone. Clara’s mother was scared that he didn’t want to stay back or go with them because of his baby mama in France. He had tried to make it clear to her that it was one moment of weakness, but she threw his sin to his face, each time something came up between them. That year, he had gone for a training in Paris, and afterwards, he didn’t know how he got drunk , and woke up the following morning with a naked woman by his side.
He put his daughter down, and went back to packing. The driver came and picked him up, because his wife didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He left the house, feeling hurt and lonely.
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Back Home
Many years and counting, she dreaded home like a child dreaded the sting of an ant. Things were no longer the way they used to be, and a cold quietness fell on them. It was difficult to find her parents in the same space without an argument or a fight, after the transfer. Her mother who used to be full of life became a shadow of herself , since her father came back from the transfer. It was as though they grew farther apart from each other, and she didn’t want to have anything to do with him –their love life grew too rusty to be mended.
Clara found it difficult to find her feet in the house, because they barely had her time: her mother buried herself in her painting studio while her father turned into a workaholic. She felt like a stranger in her own home.
Leaving Home
It was only a week to Easter, and the house grew more quiet than ever, except the slap slap of the heavily built house keeper that came and went. Clara woke to meet the same reason she preferred to spend the holiday among her peers in school. She came out of her room and there they were. She was grown , and there was no reason for them to feel ashamed of their actions. Clara watched closely while her parents argued and nearly got to the point of a fight. They used to be so much in love. She wondered what went wrong.
“You think I don’t know that you are still seeing her? How could you betray your family?”
Her mother looked like a defeated warrior.
Her father had just stormed out of the room they formerly shared. They now slept apart, looked into her mother’s eyes, and said:
“I think I better leave.”
He stormed into his room, picked some stuffs and headed for the door.
“Daddy?”
Her pleading voice stopped him from shutting the door behind him.
“Don’t leave us again, please.”
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It was a helpless plea, she could not stand spending Easter without him, again. He waited a bit, looked at her with so much bitterness and regret in his eyes; those eyes were the last good things she saw, before the door shut behind him. The house was thrown back into cold bleak quietness.
The Eve of Easter
The house was too quiet without dad, her mother went about the house like a floating cloud. It all started when her father went on a short trip to Paris, her mother never like the idea, but such promotion was sought after in the office.
Clara busily arranged some cloths in the laundry room. She came across her father’s shirt; it was stuffed at the back of the washing machine. The shirt looked aged, and dirty. She looked closely, but could not miss the smudge of red lipstick on his collar. Her mother never wore red. Clara took the shirt and went straight to her mother’s room, and knocked. Nobody answered, but she opened the door. Her mother got up from the bed when she saw the shirt. Clara opened her mouth to talk, but a voice came behind her:
“Nkechi.”
Both women were thrown off balance.
“Father!”
He bent his head, and said:
“Gbaghara, I have failed you.”
Written by Udemezue, Oluoma
Udemezue Oluoma loves to read and write; she also enjoys movies and meeting new people. Oluoma believes that life is nothing without a little touch of romance, thriller and reality. Catch her on: udemezueoluoma@yahoo.com, Udemezue, Oluoma Judith on Facebook, Instag- oluomaudemezue, and Twit- @Udemezueoluoma.