Hello, Mum, are you at a place we can talk?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?” She queried.
“Well, not really but something isn’t right.”
“There is something I want to tell you. It is not praiseworthy but I hope you’ll understand.” I was beginning to get emotional now. I didn’t know how exactly to put the words. Which word was supposed to come after which. “Eeem…”
“What?” She was beginning to loose her patience.
“I am heavy,” That is from my local dialect.
“What! How? Why have you struck yourself this way? Huh?”
“Where did you say that guy is from?”
That was the first lie among many. Oh God.
We didn’t have a lengthy talk that moment. She told me she’d call me later in the evening.
Trust me things got a little tricky. I requested her not to let Daddy know that soon. I had purposed to break the news to him myself. I wanted to assure him that I’d still be his pride. That I’d still pull through successfully. I was not sure about that though. I doubt I had the courage to tell him that. Even in writing. I feared I’d break down irreparably.
Things got tough. Mama and I went silent for a week. I could not handle the pressure. I was determined to fight for my little star. I remember Daddy and I lost touch too. Either my conscious betrayed me, or mummy had told him already. He continuously sent me upkeep funds throughout, but we hardly communicated. This particular Sunday I gave him a call, to at least cross over and pretend all was well.
“Hey,” I said.
“Mmmmh Oh okey, in salamu tu.” Me.
It is as fresh in my memory as I can remember. Our talks with my Dad are always hearty, filled with jokes and laughter. This however, was the exact opposite. It is either he was stressed or he was absorbing the shock of the news. The latter is the most probable.
I litteraly broke down after that conversation. How could I? Paulo’s first born do this? How shall I be a good example to my siblings. I wished there could be something I could do to undo the done. I wished I had at least used protection. Taken an emergency pill or just abstained. It wouldn’t have killed. Would it?
Mr does not pick my calls now. He doesn’t reply my messages. A week after my bed rest break, at about 12 weeks I requested him we talk. He had told me earlier to seriously think about this matter. The wisdom of bringing up this child.
“Time is really flying. The more we delay, the more it is getting dangerous.”
“Why can’t we solve this matter once and for all. Are you ready to be a mother? At your age? Consider you have more studying to do. This isn’t a good timing for this. I am not ready for this yet. Am asking you, to kindly think about this matter again.” Of course he sounded as romantic as before. In a very calm and composed sexy voice. I love his voice. I do. At some point I thought he was making sense.
“Am sorry. I already purposed. Am keeping the baby.”
“Oh! You are? Wow. Suit yourself then.” The line went dead.