“Hey Tobs, Dennis is quite the comedian. He has been regaling me with stories from the various cases he has handled. I think my favourites are the ones from the family court when he was a ‘new wig’ as you Lawyers call fresh Lawyers. Did I get that right?” My father asked Dennis, his laugh carefree and pure.
Oh this can’t be good, my father seem to like Dennis a lot. I have not said anything to my Dad about these two men so why am I feeling like a noose is tightening around my neck. Dennis looked so relaxed like he had nothing better to do than be in my father’s sitting room eating cake and sipping Irish cream.
This male bonding was unacceptable; think Tobs, my mind raced frantically back and forth thinking of something to distract my father. Just then a fresh batch of VIPs arrived and phew; I heaved a sigh of relief. We joined the others in the courtyard.
Dennis eventually left at about 11.00pm with the girls when he failed to persuade me to go back with him to his Hotel even after he promised to get me a room. The truth is I did not invite him to Agbarho so I do not feel obliged to keep him entertained and if he has an issue with that, it is his problem not mine! No one will railroad me into something I did not sign up for.
And if Dennis or Rick feel they are going to box me into a corner to make a decision I am not ready for, well they are in for a rude shock! I couldn’t shake off the feeling of déjà vu and that made me even more uneasy. “Tobs, get up,” my Mum said turning on the lights. I looked at the bedside clock as I sat up in bed, it’s 2.00am.
Why would my Mum come into my room at this time of the morning, this has to be important. “Tobs, I want to talk to you now,” my Mum said quietly. “Mama is it an emergency? Can’t we talk later in the morning?” I asked pleading.
The previous day was busy and the day ahead will be busier, I needed the sleep but from my Mum’s set face I knew I was wasting my time so I sat up and clutched a pillow after my Mum gave my bum shorts nightwear a disparaging look. “Your father told me about the two young men that came to see him yesterday (I rolled my eyes, oh Lord not this conversation again; I am so over it, I prayed fervently in vain).
Why don’t you pick one of them and put me out of my misery?” She said staring at me earnestly as tears welled up in her eyes. “Put you out of your misery?” I asked in bewilderment. “How does this affect you Mama?” I asked, confused. “Tobs, until you become a mother (it shall be so in Jesus name, Amen; she prayed passionately in an aside) you won’t understand what I am going through or any mother with a daughter of a marriageable age who is beautiful and brilliant like you. You are never short of men but choice seems to be your problem.
Do you want to kill me before my time? Do you not care that I am not getting any younger neither is your father? Your siblings are married but it doesn’t seem to bother you. I don’t know who I have offended that I am being punished like this. Please my daughter because of me pick one of these young men,” my Mum pleaded with tears flowing down her cheeks. I hated to see my mum like this.
How do I explain to her that it’s not about joining the bandwagon, one shouldn’t get married to fulfil a tradition or expectation.
In this part of the world, the stigma and emotional trauma a girl is subjected to as a result of her single status when she has ‘come of age’ is appalling. Marriage should not define you. I think it’s high time my Mum understands that emotional blackmail will get her nowhere.