‘Uncle Kwabena called me last night,’ he said, referring to a mutual friend of both my parents who we affectionately called ‘Uncle’ growing up. ‘Apparently he proposed a few days ago and your mum said yes and has started telling people. I can’t believe it.’
This definitely wasn’t how I wanted to learn about my mum’s upcoming wedding, and I was pretty pissed off that he had deliberately ruined the surprise for me. Honestly, I was just frustrated that Steve and I kept getting caught in the middle of whatever one-sided grudge he had against Mum.
‘Well, I didn’t know that, and it’s a shame I couldn’t hear it from her directly,’ I said, glancing at the time. After a few more bites, I took my plate to the sink. ‘I’m happy for her, she deserves a happy ending—’ I caught myself after seeing the pained look on my dad’s face ‘—not that you didn’t make her happy, of course, but … ehh … you know what I mean,’ I continued as I leaned on the counter to look down at him. He genuinely looked heartbroken, but there was nothing I could do; he had to bear the consequences of being a bad husband and a bit of a shit dad, I supposed.
‘It’s OK,’ he said, defeated as he took another sip of tea. ‘I guess I just always thought that one day … after some time has passed … she would want to reconsider us getting back together at some point. We’re both old and no one wants to be alone in their old age, especially with you and Steven all grown up and living your own lives now.’
As much as I wanted to tell him that he was the architect of his own undoing, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy at times; he had been pining over my mum since their divorce, unable to move on or get over her at all; it was sweet, in a sense.
‘Well, Dad, I think even Stevie Wonder could see that THAT was never going to happen, no offence. You guys have been divorced for years and I would have thought that, in that time, you’d find someone else too! You’re still young! You’re still hip!’ I popped the lapel on his very expensive tweed peacoat. ‘At the very least, you’re wealthy. I would have thought the women would be all over you.’ At my last comment, he let out a guffaw, his chest heaving up and down frantically, almost as if he was going to have a coughing fit. ‘You this girl, you’re funny!’ he chortled, taking a final long sip of his beverage. ‘It’s improper to talk about these things with you, but I have had my fair share of dates here and there … no one measures up to your mother though. She was the love of my life.’
I felt my heart melt there and then, knowing that if my mum had been around to hear that, she would have burst into fits of laughter before condescendingly consoling him while shading him at the same time. If there was one thing my mum loved, she loved hearing about how much my dad regretted letting her go.
‘I hear ya, Dad, but maybe her getting married again can be the push you need to get yourself back out there and start dating again?’ I sat at the kitchen table opposite him as he turned to face me, his sad eyes searching for a resolution in mine.
‘Mum has moved on, and I know you love her and all that, but there needs to come a time where you accept that she’s found happiness elsewhere, and use that as a motivational tool to search for what happiness means for you. It doesn’t necessarily have to be another woman – you can take up a hobby or something; you’ve still got time to go through a midlife crisis and buy a motorbike.’
He laughed at this again, his glazed eyes twinkling momentarily. I preferred him in these vulnerable moments, as weird as they may have sounded. It was almost like receiving specialaccess to a portal to a younger version of himself, a part of his personality that the family didn’t know.
‘You’re wise beyond your years, Baba,’ he replied, using the pet name he used to call me as a child. ‘You probably have a point but – what do you think? Is she happy? Does she truly love him? Is he good to her?’
I exhaled. I give one rousing, emotive monologue about moving on and all of a sudden I’m Oprah. Well, Oprah had to leave for work in thirty minutes so I had to find a way to make this short.
‘Dad … I think she’s happy. I don’t say this to make you feel bad at all, but she is the happiest I’ve ever seen her for a minute, I think. She’s found something that works for her and I think it’s important that you do the same; you’re a handsome guy, you’ll be able to find love again, if that’s what you’re looking for?’
My dad gave a slow exhale as he drained the rest of his mug. I excused myself temporarily to quickly get changed into my work gear and put my hair up in a top bun. I ran some mascara through my lashes and applied my peach translucent lip gloss from Hourglass Cosmetics, taking one final look at myself before heading back to the living room. I looked and felt tired, but was still living off the adrenaline of talking to Jericho last night.
As I headed back into the living room to rejoin my dad, I received a text from the family group chat again:
Steve: Nothing that I can think of, sis. Are you in trouble lmao? What did you do???
Mummy: What’s happening? What has he told you?
Cassandra: He’s pining over you (AGAIN) of course.
Mummy: … Jesus Christ of Nazareth. When will this man rest?
Cassandra: Loooool! When you decide to get back with him, I suppose.
Mummy: God forbid.
I wondered if my mum knew that Dad knew about her impending nuptials? I quickly sent a message to Steven separately.
Cassandra: It’s about Mum. He found out that Femi proposed apparently???
Steven: Say whaaaa? IS IT? Rah boy. Maybe that’s why she wanted us over the house this weekend?
Cassandra: Yh I think so. Don’t tell Mum we know, though. It’ll be nice for her to surprise us. But yeah, Dad isn’t happy. He’s been crashing out for the last 20 mins.
Steven: At some point he’s gotta get over her, man.
Cassandra: Right? Smh. I’ll ttyl xx
I put my phone away and went to join Dad in the living room as he made his way to leave. I felt a bit bad for how I had come at him regarding Mum, but it had to be said. The man had to move on and stop pining after her – he was only hurting himself in the process. I dropped my keys and hand cream into my bag as I slipped on my shoes.
‘You all right, Dad? I hope what I said didn’t come across as harsh or anything.’
‘No, you’re fine. You’re right. We both have our lives to live, I suppose. Anyway, I said I would give you a ride to work, are you ready?’ His eyes were still moist with tears. I couldn’t handle this. In a rare display of affection, I went up to him and gave him a hug, which to my surprise, he actually returned, instead of the half-hearted, half-hug he would usually dish out. We embraced for what felt like thirty minutes, though it was only a few seconds. Yet in that brief moment, I could feel theentire weight of the world lift from his shoulders. I grabbed my bits and together we headed out and towards his car.
