Silent Pains

This is a short story centred on little family issues.

It was one of those cold, slimy Mondays when the rain would start as early as 3:00 am and wouldn't stop until you forgot it was the first day of the week. I woke up earlier than usual, knowing mum would be awake cause she'd take care of the big baby before he left for work. 

"Good morning, ma" I greeted on my knees; that was culture for a typical Yoruba girl like me. "Morning, my daughter, God bless you," she answered. The rain was still keeping itself busy, so I went over to lie beside her on the bed, it was cold, and I needed to nudge close to Mum. Before I spoke up, there was a brief silence; asking her if dad had gone to work. "If he's still home, won't you see him on the bed?" she answered. 

 We laughed over it; that was the beginning of our conversation about dad still having a side chick outside. Talks like this were now residuals since it's not the first time mom was saying her part of the story. "I told him not to kill me before my time. If he still wants to keep laying with married women outside, he shouldn't touch me no more; when he's done and satisfied outside, let him come home, it's no fight". She told me. I didn't reply, not because there wasn't something to say, but because there was pain, and not even soothing words can soothe the pains.

"Olam, that's how men behave; you have to be patient. Your father is not a bad man. No, he feeds us and provides necessary, but his problem is the only thing, and I'm not arguing this again".

"Olam, read your book well well, learn handwork, even if you'll still do office work, and take good care of your sister. Draw her nearer; she's naive and fragile", she concluded after praying that I get a good husband but not like my father. 

Mom turned her back to me, pulling the wrapper around her closer as though she was naked. I could see“wanting-to-get-off-the-train" tears in her red eyes and praying to God in my heart; I sincerely hoped it wasn't a Farewell speech. 

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