Stronger Than Pain

Chapter Thirty Three

As usual, dad came home around 11pm today. I was up in our room awake and quiet, and had left our door a bit open. My plan was to eavesdrop on their conversation or confrontation, if and when dad returns. His habitual late coming has become a source of concern and worry for mum even though she acts as though she never cared.

Mum has been by herself since she discovered Miss Chioma's love note to my dad, she hasn't as much as spoken a word to either Zara nor I. I can't tell what's running through her mind, whether she's contemplating keeping mute about her discovery or confronting dad with the evidence at hand. Whatever she's planning, the truth is I haven't forgotten how bad mum's confrontation with dad ended up the last time, so if she's planning on venturing into that path, I have to keep my body awake in event she needs my help.

But as the front door slammed shut and I was certain dad was inside, I had no noises or high pitched arguments. The only noise I heard was mum's greeting followed by dad's monosyllabic response and quick steps towards their room. Everything went quiet again.

It was no more a thing of joy being driven to and from school by dad. I used to feel a sense of pride and love when I believe dad was going on school run just to be with us, but since Miss Chioma's discovery, I've begun to understand that it was never about us. He was just using the idea of school run to hunt for his next catch. Thanks to Zara's teacher, his hunt was a success.

It's been few days since mum discovered the note in Zara's bag, and I've caught dad countless times searching through my bag and Zara's. Most times, he pretends as though he's just going through our academic works, and the other times he'll just pretend to borrow a pen or pencil.

Poor man.

In all of this, he hasn't been bold enough to ask Zara and I anything, neither has he summoned the courage to ask mum.

One thing that was growing immensely in our home was silence. Mum and dad like before was emotionally detached and I needed no prophet to tell me something was amiss.

There was no more PDA, no more laughter and no more jokes. It was just business as usual. Toothless greetings. Fake smiles. Fake attentions. And fake love. Everything screamed F.A.K.E.
*****

"I don't know what to do!" A broken voice said, followed by muffled sobs.

I didn't need to hear the words again before knowing it was mum. Where was she?

"I can't say. I'm loosing it. I'm losing myself" She sobbed again.

Is she on call?

Then a long silence...

"I'll definitely do that but I have to go there first. I need her to know that I know even though I'm sure she does..."

Silence...

"I'll tell you when I'm ready. I don't know when I'll go yet"

A brief pause.

"We'll talk later" And then slow steps followed.

I trailed the voice and finally found her. She was sitting on a small wooden chair, hidden beside the silver fridge just close to the kitchen sink. The fridge towered above her, the edge hiding her perfectly so no one would know she was there all along.

As she stepped out of her hiding spot, her eyes beheld mine and she froze. I was leaning on the kitchen door frame, my left shoulder balancing on the frame, with my right leg angled and crossed over my left. My arms were folded perfectly across my chest. I was staring at her.

"You're here" She managed to say.

She'd lost her voice from constant crying, and her eyes swollen and coloured like a red apple. She's suddenly become so lean as though she's been training for a marathon for months. Even if she's on a hunger strike, I bet if she'll be this lean.