She was already dressed for school. And her school bag was behind her. But she knew Victor got some explanations to make about Ade not going with her. What she can’t say for sure was whether this was the right time. She gazed at Victor who had refused to look away from the newspaper spread in front of him.
When her voice came again, Victor yelled. “Joan, what has come over you this morning? Go to school and don’t be late.”
Joan stood firmly in front of Victor and behind the newspaper, he had spread across his face. “No father, certainly not without Ade.” She began angrily. “He must go to school father—”
Victor lowered the newspaper to his laps and gave Joan an awful stare. “And what does that imply?” Didn’t wait for her to respond, he flared, “I see you know nothing but sympathy. I never taught you that and I think you need some flogging to let that go off you. You must be on your way now or I change my mind.”
Joan stood refusing to go. She felt so much strength within her and wondered where it came. Certainly not from the breakfast she ate earlier, perhaps from sympathy as her father rightly observed.
She knows she felt differently and there is something more to it, a wave of anger that had been boiling up within her for weeks because of Victor’s negligence towards Ade’s welfare since his arrival.
Still refusing to walk away, she began slowly, stammering. “A—Ade s—should join me in my school if you feel his present school is expensive and—”
“Shut up.” Victor shot back. “You are nothing but an ingrate. You and your mother take me for a fool. I spend my hard earn money to send you to school and you think less of me—If you don’t start going now. I may change my mind.”
Joan watched him resume reading his newspaper and for minutes he ignored her and refused to comment on Ade’s not going to school. But instead, never stopped lashing at her.
The weight of his last words came suddenly upon her as cold water poured forth. Except that it wasn’t but then she felt that way. She really can't understand why his father was doing all these things. She could best describe it as hate and nothing more.
Why did he not like Ade?
Why was he keeping his distance from him as though he has done something really bad?
And why was he never comfortable anytime he sets his eyes on him?
Even as more thoughts worked in her mind. She can’t place it or blot the thin lines across her divergent thoughts.
Momentarily she stood and eventually started dragging her feet.
A few minutes later, Victor noticed she has disappeared.
Suddenly, Ade who had noticed some noise in the sitting room walked in. And when he noticed nobody was there but Victor. He spun around but Victor’s words stopped him. “You can’t tell me you heard nothing—you are just like your father who heard too much. But never act, instead he preferred to say he saw nothing or heard nothing.”
Ade who had stood motionless on hearing Victor's words slowly turned around. This time he observed Victor had lowered his newspaper.
Now tossing victor’s words in his mind over and over, he decided to say nothing.
Victor had decided to be more selective in his words after Rodson spoke about the amazing wealth of David. Looking at Ade more closely, he chose to be more polite now. “Joan told me about you and I am not surprised she is concerned about you. Both of you are kids and someday you will realize life is not a bed of roses—Rodson will soon visit. Until then I have nothing to say but only hope your father kept something for your education and if he does. That means he is not a fool after all or perhaps—”
Ade knew he hates him just the way he hated David his father. He felt the anger he has for him and his father every time he set his eyes on Victor—everything and nothing left out.
Why was he this unforgiving?
Why was he still mad even at the dead?
He got nothing and yet spoke too much, immersing himself in the pool of pride.
Ade felt his legs aching. What he wanted now is to be left alone—alone in his world. Free of all harassment and intimidation.
Since last night he has been dizzy and had noticed his headache had refused to go even after he woke up. He leans against the door as his eyes sink.
He felt the weight of Victor’s words spreading all over him as he walked out of the sitting room into his little room.
Why is Victor so arrogant?
Why can’t he show some love to an orphan?
Why are his words so
annoying and never healing, healing the void that had formed a home in his
heart after the shocking demise of his parents?
The more his thought ran within him in speed. The more he felt pains, pains of the unknown, pains of an orphan who is helpless and vulnerable.
Now he could only imagine a lot. And only wished he is never swallowed up in his incessant nightmares. That had never stopped coming and hunting him so grievously. Making him most times have sleepless nights.
Now on his bed, he felt relieved on his tiny legs as he squeezed into his tattered blanket to stop the cold that came from nowhere rushing into his tender bones from underneath his feet. As he slept, he struggled to force out so many thoughts playing within his head, ever since he started living with his uncle—Victor.
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