Terrible Twos

David is my old man; he likes to run. I thought so. The sun had just come out, and I had just opened my store. I was standing and at the reception area, less bothered. I like to remain calm even in a storm. And this man is not a morning kind of a person. So, whenever I saw him, any time before noon, I had to be prepared for the worst.

He kicked the entrance door and storm to the reception. I

pretended to be busy the moment he fixed his eyes on me.

Suddenly, he was

standing before me.

I was holding a pen, and doodling numbers on the blank pages. I

was facing downwards and the cap hid most of my head. I saw the

sight of his

heavy apron. Greasy and drenched in black oil. He held a

spanner. I saw the

grip on the spanner. It felt like looking at the mirror and

seeing the

reflection of his face from his hand. Only this time, the veins

told me exactly

what kind of a face I was expecting to meet. He was shorter, and

leaned forward

a little bit, and faced me, looking upwards through the space left

between my

cap. I bent my neck forward. And a bit more. His angry face

disappeared from my

point of view, then I only saw his hand with the heavy

mechanical tool.

I continued doodling and he saw this. He jerked abruptly, and I

shook. I faced him. He was not a happy man.

“Tell me what I heard wasn’t true!”

“Or you are going to hit me with that?” I said, backing up from

him, and I thought I was safe within the reception desk, which

stood three feet

in height and a half-circle enclosing the front office desk. He

was on the

outside, angry and looking around, trying to shake off bad

thoughts. It was not

working out.

“You know I have a heart problem, and you want me dead?” He

exploded glaring straight into my soul. I took a deep breath,

and that is when

I realized that he was still holding a potential weapon

“Dad, please sit down and let us talk about this like men.” His

eyes protruded at the mention of the name ‘men’. Maybe he

thought I did not

think he was much of a man. He lifted the spanner and loaded it

heavily on the

desk, almost shattered the glass into pieces. It left a crack on

the counter.

***

David was sitting on the plastic chair that I kept for myself. I

sat on the floor. I did not feel like working that day, but I

hated missing a

day. What if I never had to close

my shop anymore,

and work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, twelve

months a year?

Nevertheless, David locked the doors himself. I had disagreed

strongly, but I

always had a soft spot for him. I let him chase out a few

customers out and

told them it was an emergency. I want to say escorted them out

of the store,

but he literally chased this man who had refused to go out. The

rest simply

freaked out to the thud of my father’s deep, broken voice. It

was still early,

and I felt lucky that I did not have to explain to a crowd why I

was closing on

a Tuesday, and a Black Tuesday to be precise. It was one of my

favorite days.

David looked at me, holding on to the cup of warm water,

military boots, and the spanner was on the drawer. Closer to him

than it was to

me. I kept glancing at it as if I was reading my thoughts on its

surface and

pasting them on my father’s face using my eyes. The silence was

deafening. I

could not hear the traffic.

“Where do you want to begin?” He inquired, his voice echoing in

the hall, and I felt the tension. “I... I don’t know.” I

muttered out

desperately. My calmness felt like a cube of ice on a warm

surface. I felt it

melting away. I felt anxious gradually and it always happened

when my dad gave

me the look, folding his right leg over the left, not swinging

the right foot.

“What exactly… I mean, what is wrong with you!” David frowned;

it was painful for him. I had to talk. I was suffering too.

“Dad, I don’t think I am ready to raise a family.” I felt sure.

It is the most real thing I have ever shared with him, having

being defensive

all my life, and never accepting my mistakes, this statement

made every part of

my wellness feel contented to let it out. Word had spread and I

knew this day

would come. I knew my biological father would know about it. I

never imagined

being the one to let him know the worst news.

“You know, son…” He leaned forward, and I lay my feet straight

on the floor, my fingers going through my nails, and my

attention was scattered

between asking questions or answering them. His voice felt

heavy. He continued.

“I want you to explain to me clearly. What is going on through

your mind right now?” He inquired. “It is a long story.” “And

got the whole

day.” He interjected.

I thought of telling him how we met. How I met the girl who was

soon expected to be my spouse. And who was soon going to be the

mother of twin

girls? By the time I was talking to my father, it had already

happened, and he

knew nothing about it. Until that day.

I thought of telling him that I had spent two years trying to

make the relationship work but in vain. I thought hard of where

to begin. My

father and I had been away from each other since I opened the

store. I never

wanted him to know about my secret. I did keep it from him, and

I knew I would

not do it for long.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a family?” David’s shaking voice

could not stand it, and a drop of sadness was in the voice like

he was sobbing

from inside, remaining strong on the outside. “Why didn’t you

tell me that I

had a family!?”

“Dad, I can’t do it.”

“What is that? What can you not do?” He sounded concerned about

me. It was my chance to let it go.

I always dreamt of running my own business. It was what I felt

was deeply embedded in me; entrepreneurship. I had attended a

prestigious

school, thanks to my father, he was proud of me. “Son, you can

do it. You can

be better than me! Believe it and know that you will be king. A

king of your

life!” He would repeat. He listened. I felt lighter in every

sentence and

momentarily thought.

“Maybe he is just pretending to listen. Maybe he is planning to

hit me on the head when I least expect.” I thought.

The mid-morning was windy and cold. Clouds had formed, and I

loved the weather. I am not a natural person; I just loved the

weather because

people always buy more jackets. More sweat pants and I ran out

of socks more

times than I can remember in June and July. It is wintertime in

central Africa.

I had plans, but there I was. Trading respect for time, losing

on a long-awaited opportunity. Father came at the wrong times

and I hated him

coming to my workplace. It always shut down. I felt like, who is

he!

But looking at him. Listening and asking the right questions, I

forgot about work for once in a very long time. And I saw

something else.

“I understand what you are feeling. You are struggling in your

career. Your dream, but you think…” “I know!” I corrected him.

He looked at me. I saw the white of his eyes. “You know that the

girls are stopping you from making this…happen?”

I agreed. When Dane moved in with me, I had doubts, and she was

stubborn. I wanted us to talk about her pregnancy.

“What do you mean…’ talk about her pregnancy’?” He was utterly

curious, and I thought, maybe he was listening too much.

“SON! What did you mean to say, ‘talk about her pregnancy’? I

mean, you said it. I am lost here.”

I felt stupid. I didn’t want to say anything else. He knew that

I knew that he knew.

“Son,” he woke up and came close, and sat next to me. The stench

of petrol now felt stronger and it stung my senses.

He held me tight, and I knew that shirt; it was the last time I

saw it stainless. He looked at me closely, that the smell of

cigarettes rotting

in his jaws fell perpendicularly in my nostrils. The warmth of

his breath felt

on my left ear and he found it hard to say it. I felt barely

strong enough to

hear it.

“Son, we are not killers.” A moment passed, and I fell under the

shadow of guilt worse than any other moment I could remember.

“I know you wanted to make her destroy those kids. But then

what? Remain to know that you killed an innocent child? Have

time for your

business? And in your case, you would have taken out two

beautiful angels.” I

wished for the floor to crack open and drop me in the basement.

I felt the cold spanner on my

face. But he was

still there, looking at me. The spanner was where

it had been. Unmoved. My heart pumped harder.

“I thought you would be disappointed in me!” I struggled to

speak. He was so close. He let go. And that is when I realized I

was not

breathing. I gasped for air.

“What are their names?” He asked, his elbows pivoting on his

knees and linking by the hands, his face calm.

I felt lighter. I felt proud. Of everything.

“Lavender and Rose!”

“Your wife loves flowers?”

“No, she hates flowers. And she is not my wife yet. I am not

married.” It felt safer to continue talking, but watching out for

setting more

traps for myself.

“You came up with those names? Why are you? A woman!” He

laughed.

I watched him. He continued. I felt dumber than Jim of the Dumb

and Dumber.

He roared. I felt so foolish, I laughed at myself too. Not as

hard, I love myself, but enough to compensate for the awkward

situation.

“Your mother loved those.” He said, smiling in a sweet memory,

looking into space. He could see her, and I saw her.

“I couldn’t think of better names,” I told him.

“That is what I would have done.” “Thank you, son”

And at that moment, I knew what he was thinking.

“Tell me about the girls.”

“I…” He waited.

The air felt thinner, “Do you want some coffee?”

“Of course.” He woke up, took out his apron, and left it on the

floor. He had his casual jeans and a t-shirt. As a mechanic,

fashion was not in

his blood.

He walked towards the clothes. “Dad, this way.” He kept going.

“Sometimes I think to myself, my son was not tough enough to be

an engineer, so he decided to do soft jobs. Like choosing

clothes and reselling

them.”

“Do you have a problem with that?” I waited for his response.

“I know you want me to answer, but I think the situation is

pretty rhetoric. You got scared!”

We could be heard from outside, arguing. He always knew how to

make me talk.

“You think I was scared to be a mechanic; like you?” I asked.

“Yeah, and that is why you just can’t stand my granddaughters.”

I thought about it. I was lost in the idea. But I think I was

actually watching him try out the jackets. He took a leather

jacket and admired

himself in the mirror.

“Are you serious?! If I decide you do not come out of that door

without that jacket, you do not come out of the building with

the jacket. If I

was a mechanic, would I do that?”

“Whatever.” He smiled, he loved it.

“You may be soft,” He touched the leather jacket to feel the

tough texture, “… but you rock hard. This is tight!”

“You are going to pay for that.” I went to the kitchen. It was a

sink, and a gas cooker, a microwave. Just a few things men buy

in our community

to save on eat-outs. He followed, and he was walking like Chuck

Norris, the

Texas Ranger.

***

I served the coffee, and we sat on the plastic chair.

“Why do you buy all this plastic. Buy a sofa and give yourself a

break.”

“Luxury is in the mind. I like to stay sharp!”

My father wanted to speak. “Say it.”

“Son, you need to take time and work less hard, but smarter.

Dane.” He mentioned. I turned to face him. “What about her?”

“Do you love her?” He gave me the look again. I hated being

uncomfortable in his stare. My mother died when she was giving

birth to my

long-awaited sister. However, my father always kept around every

step of the

way. To each other, we were more than the only family we had for

each other. We

adored each other and hated lying to each other.

“Don’t you lie to me again?”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell.”

“Do you love her, this woman you keep complaining about?”

“No…” I answered with an unsure whisper.

“Do you like her?”

“I don’t know. She is nice. I mean…”

“Fair enough! Now listen to me and listen very carefully.” He

sipped on the last of the remaining coffee in his cup and put

the ceramic mug

on the floor. The sound felt loud. It echoed.

“I do not care if you love the kids or not, but as long as you

have not to conflict with your woman… in this situation, to be

clear…then you

are going to man-up right now, and take me there!”

I laughed. He was not laughing. I heard the echo of my laugh,

and

not his.

I looked at him.

“You are serious?” My eye popped out.

“Would you like me to show I am?” He rose up.

He came close. Again. Not close enough for me to smell the blend

of cigarette and coffee in his breath like the former, but close

enough for me

to notice that the leather jacket had the price tag on it.

“This jacket was being sold for $800 dollars”

I felt a smack on my back head, and my oblongata shook.

“Today, I am seeing my granddaughters…”

“It won’t be possible.”

“WHY!”

I kept quiet. My arms covering my head like a biker’s helmet, I

rose and I moved away.

“You wouldn’t understand,” I said. Confident.

“I… I…” The stammering couldn’t stop, I had too many wrong

answers.

“I don’t think she wants to speak to me.”

“Have you talked….to her?” He sounded sarcastic.

“She would not return my messag..”

“Have you, or have you not? Yes or no should be simpler for you

to choose.” He cut me off in my speech. “NO!”

“Now we are heading somewhere in this…whatever it is that

fathers and sons do. You are pathetic. You haven’t called her

today?”

I did not want to lie.

“No.”

“When was the last time you called your girls?”

The twins may have been two years old, but they made my life a

living hell, even when they were not around.

“The day before yesterday?” He immediately asked, and I nodded

in disagreement. Cautiously.

“The day before that?..” I kept nodding ‘no’. “.. before

that?..”

“For god's sake, when?”

“Two wee…” It felt like two years.

“TWO WEEKS! THAT IS LIKE TWO YEARS!”

“Where have you been sleeping?” He continued. It felt like I was

a broken engine and he was dissecting every part of my body.

“Here.”

“Call her!”

“What! She won’t pick up. She hates my guts.”

“I am telling you to call her. You are going back. And when you

are

talking, tell her father-in-law is coming for dinner.”

“Dad! That is like…biting more than I can chew!”

He took me by the shirt.

“Listen, in my bloodline, we tell women what to do. And what I

see here is a wannabe-coward. You are a strong son. Be the king

of your life.”

“What if she doesn’t pick up?” I felt those were my last words.

“Oh! She will!” David.

***

I picked up the reception phone. I have never called her using

the word line. I would use my cellphone all the time to call

her.

I listened. “The customer you are trying to call is currently

busy. Please hold on to….” The operator begun speaking, I

whispered. “She is on

the phone”

“Probably with her new boyfriend.” He returned a whisper,

grinning like a devil. I thought. Insulted.

“I am just kidding, boy” He had carried carrots from the fridge

and he loved them. I liked them too.

“What did you tell her about me?” He whispered. “Nothing, I told

her I am an orphan!”

“WHAT! WHY!” He jumped. He looked

mad. I smiled back, and if it wasn’t for the waiting call, he

would have used

the spanner.

“What if she asked you, now that your dad’s here, did he

resurrect from the...”

Theon-hold music halted.

“Hello, who is this?” Dane’s voice. I panicked and felt dumb. My

father’s eyes in a total panic too; the reason, I could not make

out. Maybe he

was excited and anxious simultaneously.

“Dane...” I hardly spoke.

“…Babe! Is that you? The girls miss you. We do really do.”