Chapter 4: Moving on

After the excitement of the last few days, our lives settled into what I would consider a routine. We had to adjust to a life without my father in it. It wasn't easy, but it was what had to be done. We still talked about him, mostly all the time. Some of these times, it was unconscious, like we'd be doing something and then we'd just remember what dad would have done in the same situation. It wasn't easy, but there was no alternative. We had to find a way to keep him close to our hearts. At that point we didn't want to let go. We never even realized what we were doing, but we did it anyways.

One of the things that got us by was the neighbours. They were supportive, visiting just to say hello (their own words, not mine), inviting us to their parties. Summer was a time for party and party that neighbourhood did. We always appreciated everything we got. I had some friends who lived in that neighbourhood; they would often invite me for a game of 'Sega' or 'Nintendo'. It was a time for me to relax and forget, even if it was for some moments that dad was no more.

Our nights were a different story all together. I walked in on mom crying some nights. I never begrudged her; it was her right to cry. It was at that time that I learned that just holding people when they are in pain, letting them know that you were there for them, no matter what was the best approach you could ever use when dealing with someone that was hurt. It worked for me.

You'd think that I was immune to all the pain and sense of loss that loomed in our home, I wasn't. I had the worst case of 'hurtiritis'. I cried all night. Why would I cry you ask? When my father died, I didn't as much as shed a single tear. I felt like I had betrayed him. But that wasn't the main reason. You had no idea what it felt like living with a mom that was always on the edge, like just something as simple as just mentioning dad's name got her to tear up; I do. That was what mom was like. Though I was just eight, I had enough presence of mind to know that if I so much as displayed a feeling of hurt, pain or loss, that it would triple mom's pains; that it would make her feel like she had failed as a mother. So I bottled it up on the inside. Whenever I was with mom, I had to be strong for her, if not for any other reason than the fact that it was dad's last wish that I took care of mom, no matter what. So I was hurting without an outlet for it. The nights were what kept me sane. I would cry, wishing that dad would just appear to me, show me how I should do things.

Mom wasn't all tears. After my uncles took most of my father's property, she began sending applications to firms. It wasn't long before she got a job, with her certificate as an assistant to one of the firms in Lagos then. She would be gone most days, and I would be shipped to the Cokers.

The Cokers had a son about my age, and an older daughter with a younger boy that was about three at that time. Just like mom (well mostly before dad died), Mrs. Coker was a stay-at-home mom, as were most mothers in that neighbourhood. I never really knew her real name but Mrs. Coker was a great, supportive friend of mom. Mr. Coker was a lawyer, actually he was the one that represented mom in her case against my uncles (one of his employees anyway). I would go to the Cokers' early in the morning and mom would pick me whenever she got home. And so went the rest of the summer. Mom and I were closer than before and we were beginning to adjust to life without my father.

School started in September without much ado. Greater Minds International School was a school for only the best. It was structured after the British style of education. Most of the teachers were foreigners. So it was expected that the tuition would be costly, but not that costly to put a dent on my family's resources. When dad was around, he was the one that paid the bills, so it was just a matter of mom transferring the tuition letter to him. Now things we different. Although mom had started work on the first week of September, she hadn't received any salary yet. So we were left with the meagre amount that dad left in the bank. It was also from that same money that his funeral was organized.

One thing about Greater Minds is that you always have to pay tuition on or before the day of resumption. It was really bad so mom had to sell one of dad's properties that my uncles couldn't confiscate. Although I didn't support the sale (not verbally), it was the only course of action that we could take. Time was not on our side.

I always thought that education was my right, that since my parents brought me into this world, they had no other option than to send me to school. That was my belief. It wasn't that I never took education seriously, I did, but there was always a lax attitude towards education. I didn't know it at that time, but it was always there. Well that changed. Stepping into the compound of Greater Mind on that faithful day, I realized something: I was privileged to be there. Most children my age were living in hunger and squalor, with no hope of knowing when the next meal would come, if it would come, not to talk more of going to school. But I had the privilege to go to the best school in the country. I vowed to make utmost use of it. Looking back, that was the time I became a nerd, although, nerdness has always been in my genes.

I took advantage of what greater Minds had to offer. I used the library, asked questions in class, made friends with my teachers; I left no stone unturned. Part of the reason was because I was afraid that at any given time, I would be pulled from Greater Minds and transferred to someplace with less facility to develop me academically. Though my fears were unfounded, it was there nonetheless.

Things changed by mid semester that year. Greater Minds always consisted of kids from rich families or families well enough to pay their exorbitant tuition. When people at school learnt of my father's death, there was the general sympathy and pity that people display when they see someone that had lost a loved one. People talked to me and were generally trying to be my friends. It was somehow good to know that these people care for me. I was to be shattered.

My birthday was always in November. When dad was alive, he spared no expense. I knew things were going to be different this year so I wasn't expecting anything fancy. It was the Friday before my birthday as my birthday fell on a Saturday. This type of birthday was rare to come by. My friends and I were just lounging after school, waiting to be picked up. There were at least 20 kids all sharing information on how their day went.

"Hey EJ!" It was Mark, a kid whose dad was a manager in one of the oil companies in town. " ... Your birthday is tomorrow, isn't it?" We were thought to use Emphatic Stress in make conversation; it was more engaging, or so they claimed. I nodded to Mark's question as all eyes were directed to my path. "So what are you going to do now that your old man is dead?" Mark continued, although I could see some people trying to shush him. " ... Guess you aren't going to be throwing the biggest b'day party anymore. How the mighty have fallen." He laughed that kind of laugh you just know is hollow and oh so derisive. "Oh what I wouldn't give to see how tomorrow will be like." He laughed some more. I had been quiet all through his diatribe.

"You are heartless Mark, how can you say som'thing like this to EJ?" Another came to my rescue. "Heartless, heartless you ask? How about I show you some heartlessness? I don't understand how a school as mighty as Greater Mind should condescend so low as to admit a lowly fellow like EJ into the school. He is disease! And he is going to contaminate us. I say we kick him out of here." He would have continued had I not done anything. I shouldn't have. I should have just let it slide but I wasn't a coward and I sure as hell wasn't going to cower before a bully. I lounged forward against him. He had no chance because it was unanticipated. I dropped him to the ground and I rained the punches in. I let the emotions flow through me, those repressed emotions came bursting at the seams and I lost every shred of control. I don't know how long I punched him; all I knew was that he was helpless before me. Eventually I was pried away from him. I was being controlled by teachers who had come to the rescue.

"You will pay for this. I will show you whose son I am. After I am done with you, you and everything you love, even that whore of a woman you call a mother, I'll..." He never got it out. I freed myself from the hold of the unsuspecting teacher trying to calm me and lounged at him again. This one was totally unexpected. I raised my leg, with the full speed that I had and kicked him. He screamed on impact. If I lost control before, I was an animal then. In all that I never as much as said a single word.

"Will the two of you stop this folly right now!" It was the Vice Principal, a busty white woman from England. "Now, both of you go to my office and wait for me there." She commanded. I was in trouble. Rumour had it that no one who saw the Vice Principal's office, ever came out unscathed, but for whatever reason, I didn't care. We left for her office where we were stood waiting for her. I was still shaking with anger and I would have killed Mark, only that I knew it wasn't worth it.

We stayed there long enough for the adrenaline in my body to disappear, leaving me with the stark clarity of what I had done and the implications. I didn't get the chance to panic though, because Mz. Watson came in at that time. She sat down, leafed through the files in front of her. Every minute spent, my anxiety was rising.

"Mr. Williams, I have gone through your records and it seems like you were a stellar student." She fixed her gaze on me. "Do you care to explain your actions?"

Why was I asked first? Why was I put in the spotlight first? I have always been an analytical person, so I took a deep breath and answered the lady; "He. Called. Me. A. Lowlife. He. Called. Mother. A. Whore. I couldn't take that." Every word was punctuated showing my busting emotions. I managed to keep it under control, though. Mz. Watson was quiet for some time. "Is that true Mr. Demola?" "No madam, I didn't do any of the things he is accusing of, I swear." My head snapped as I turned to look at Mark. I would have strangled him at that moment. "I see." That was the only thing the V.P said as she looked at us with a penetrating gaze.