Truth or Dare

I hated Mum. Everyone around me cried their eyes out as her body was laid in the grave but, not me. I kept my face passive because I couldn't explain the excitement I felt at her passing. Being the last of five children, no one seemed to notice my lack of tear. I looked up to see George's eyes trained on me. I was wrong. My eldest brother noticed.

***

Weeks turned into months and months into years. I flashed a brief smile at the man sitting on table seven. He looked rich and—single. If I wasn't a waitress, I would have done more than smile. I chuckled silently. Working at Chops 'n' Bites had exposed me to far more than was expected of a seventeen-year-old. But, who cares? Dad was busy enough with my crazy elder sis and her train of boyfriends. And Mum, I scoffed, she had been useless while she was alive. There was no use thinking about her now.


"Excuse me?"

My heartbeat increased as his rich baritone voice sent thrills over me. He was talking to me.

"Can you hear me, Miss?"

"Yes, I can." I walked towards him. "How can I help you?"

He smiled and I almost swooned. His teeth were as white as my starched shirt. Oh my! He even has a dimple.

"I want to ask if I can get an extra table."

My face beamed as I saw the perfect privilege to subtly flirt with him.

"Or, it's not possible?"

"No, no, no, it is. The couple on table five will leave soon. I can always reserve it for you."

He smiled and I smiled–dumbly–in return.

"Thank you, Miss…"

"Lo."

"Lo?"

"My full name is Oluwafunmilola." I wrinkled my nose. "But I prefer Lo."

"Why? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't. I feel it sounds local."

He laughed. "Are you for real?"

I frowned. He was starting to make me feel stupid and I didn't like it. I glanced at my colleagues and saw them looking away. I stared back at him. I definitely didn't like it. "Yes. Is something wrong?"

"No. It's just that my fiancee is Oluwafunmilayo and I wouldn't want her preferring to be called La."

My cheeks grew hot.

"Are you okay?

He still had the guts to ask!

"Miss Lo." He smiled.

"I just remembered table five has been reserved. I don't think you'll be able to get the extra reservation."

His face fell. "But I really need it. My fiancee is coming with her friends and…"

"And you want a private moment with her by getting another table for her friends."

His face filled with hope. "Exactly.

"I'm sorry. You'll have to stick with this table or come back some other time. Is there something I can get for you while you wait?"

I smiled inwardly as his face fell the second time. If only he knew who he was dealing with, he would have kept his opinions to himself. I stared at his drawn lips. A pity he already got himself a fiancee.

***

"Lola!"

I groaned. Dad never failed to call me that hideous name.

"Funmilola!"

I rolled my eyes as I hurriedly shoved my feet into my overworn slippers. "I'm coming." I could endure everything except being called by my full name, and maybe, having to do without my phone. I didn't like any of the short forms of my name, except Lo, but I could still bear hearing them. Being called Oluwafunmilola reminded me of Mum and I didn't like remembering her.

"I didn't realize your room to the sitting room is now a day's journey."

I mentally rolled my eyes while keeping a smile on my face. "Was that why you called me?"

Dad dropped his gaze and shook his head. George gave me a disapproving look which I ignored. I was only asking an innocent question.

Dad clasped his hands. "Your eighteenth birthday is fast approaching and I know you're excited."

I shrugged. Not really. If there was anything I was excited about, it was the legal freedom I would have. Birthdays had never been a thing in my family. Another reason I hated Mum.

"I wanted to ask if you have any plans on how you want the day to be?"

"I have none." I shifted on my legs. "Dad, can you just go straight to the point? I have stuff to do." Sleep for example.

"Lo!"

I glared at George. "What?"

Dad held his head in his hands. "Leave her alone. It's all my fault."

That was also another reason I hated Mum. She left our upbringing to Dad while she spent a major part of her day sleeping. She always complained of being tired. And why wouldn't she? Lo could not count the number of times her mother had sneaked out of the house when she thought they were sleeping. George had known the truth and had accused her of prostitution. It was still fresh in her memory. She had seen the guilt that rose in her mother's eyes. She had really been a prostitute.

"It's Mum's fault."

Dad jerked up. "What?"

"Mum was never available and she was always hard to talk to. I didn't even know her. You were the only one who took care of us." My voice broke. "I hate her."

The intensity of my emotions took them by surprise. George and Dad exchanged glances before Dad left the sitting room. George's forehead knitted and I hated when he did that. Something uncomfortable ends up happening—to me.

"What?"

He shrugged. "You didn't mean what you said, right?"

My eyes glistened. "I did."

"You can't be serious."

"Newsflash. I am."

"Mum was the best mother anyone could ever have."

I scoffed. "Indeed. No wonder you ended up calling her a prostitute."

He blanched. "You heard that?"

"Yes."

"I said that about two years before mum died. You couldn't have been more than seven."

"I was old enough to recognise the difference between taking a walk at night and sneaking out."

He raised his hands. "She did that for us. She didn't want to get us worried. And," He paused. "I was a difficult teenager. You have to understand that.

"It makes no difference. She was never a mother to me."

He held my gaze. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

"Fine, I don't. But, how will you explain her constant tiredness? Her crankiness when we ask her to play? Her mood swings? Her sneaking out of the house every night? Her arguments with Daddy? Her…"

"Stop, Lo. I won't allow you to disrespect Mother's memory."

Heat ran through me and I recognized it for what it was. Anger. "Fine. Just don't try to defend her in my presence."

He stood and stared at me with tired eyes. "Dad called me here because he thought you were ready but I think you're not. I agree with Mum's suggestion to not allow you read it until you're eighteen. You will only transfer your anger towards Dad." He ran a hand over his face. "Tell Dad I said goodbye. I'll see you again before the month runs out."

I kept mute as he left. Several emotions burned through me, leaving way for confusion. My family had always run on assumptions but this was beyond it. What did my siblings know that I didn't? And what was I supposed to read when I'm eighteen? Why was Mum interfering in my life even from the grave? Could she not leave me alone? I sat thinking for a long time but only got more troubled. The door opened and Lolu entered with a new guy who chose to ignore me, and in a funny way, got me riled. I could literally feel heat bouncing off my head. She pecked me and started a gist about meeting the guy—who was still ignoring me—on her way to a job interview. My anger reached its breaking point when she said she got so engrossed with the guy she forgot all about it.

"I see." I muttered.

"Don't you think he's handsome?"

The guy's face lit in a smile and I felt my head pop.

"Of course. As handsome as my big toe."

Lolu's smile slipped and I couldn't help staring at the guy. He was actually looking at my big toe.

"That's rude."

"I know, Sis. But don't you think a guy who followed you to your father's house with the aim of sleeping with you while refusing to acknowledge those he meets at home has no respect for you or your family? No, don't answer. A man who is more interested in taking you to bed than your securing a job is more useless than my big toe. No, my big toe is not useless. More useless than Ralph."

Lolu blanched and I couldn't blame her. If I called Mum useless, Ralph ,our dog, was infinitely useless. If I hadn't met better dogs I would have signed up for having dogs eradicated.

"Lo!"

I stared at the man. "Hello, Bro Yellow Feet. Kindly take your leave before you end up being an invalid. You can ask my sister, I'm not very patient."

"I can see that—clearly. Have a nice day."

"He can talk." I murmured.

The slap was unexpected. My cheeks burned like the sting of a scorpion and my head grew blank for a while. Lolu's eyes sparked with an anger that rivalled my own.

"You will not disrespect my guests."

"And you will not disrespect us by being a prostitute like Mother. Slap me again and I'll make sure you regret it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Did you just use the p word on me?"

"Yes, Prostitute."

Five minutes later and we were both bleeding. Even Dad got injured while trying to separate us. My heart burned with the injustice of it all. Tears dripped down my face, burning a path through my already bruised face. I found my way into the store and started packing everything that belonged to me. I was tired. I hated everyone. I hated George for leaving home. I hated Tola for dying shortly after Mum and leaving me without help. I hated Bimbo for cutting communication with us and I hated Lolu for—I paused. A book was lying on the unused shelf but that was not what caught my attention. It wasn't dusty like other books and that meant that it had recently been placed there. I opened it and recognized it for what it was. Mother's diary. My brows rose when I flipped to the last page and saw a letter addressed to me.

Dear Oluwafunmilola,

I remember the day I gave birth to you. The way your tiny hand curled around my finger and the joy you brought to my heart is. There are so many things I want to say to you but you're still young. Tears fill my eyes when I remember I have little time left. You asked me to play the truth and dare game with you yesterday but I refused. I saw the pain in your eyes when I shouted at you to go and complete your assignments. I wish I did better, dear child. But, I'm so weary. Your father has been doing an amazing job of taking care of you all and I wish I didn't have to work at the factory. It drains all my strength.

My knees shook and my hands trembled. It couldn't be!

I've been looking for a better job but I've not been able to get it. Your father barely makes enough to feed two people not to talk of the seven of us. I know I'm not supposed to feel this way but I'm glad I lost the two pregnancies I had after giving birth to you. I see the way children from poor families are stigmatized and I don't want this for you. Your Father and I will be telling you the truth soon but I still want you to act like you have all you need, because you do. I might not be able to get you the latest clothes but I'll always be able to give you a heart full of love. I'm sorry I've not been the best mother. I promise to do better.

Signed.

Oluwafunmilola Joseph.

(By the way, I think I should give you more than a diary but that will be determined by the number of truths you choose when we play the truth and dare game. I love you, daughter.)

"We never got to play the game." I sobbed. "You died before we could. I'm sorry, Mum. I was wrong."

"I was wrong too. I should have told you the truth while she was alive. I didn't think our omission would have this kind of effect on all of you." He swallowed. "My ego ruined it all."

I stared at Dad's frail figure. For the first time, I agreed with him.


© Adenike Oni 2020