Dayo (A short story)

The day I turned 45 was the worst day of my life. I wish things never turned the way it did.  My birthday was all festive at first. There was plenty jollof rice and pepper snail, my robust friends on laces and matching gele. King Sunny Ades' life performance with melodies that seep into one's brain got me all flirty on the dance floor with my makeup covered in happy sweat. 

The typical owambe (party) I planned in my head weeks earlier. Down the line, I knew something was not right. Every minute that passed, I would push my way through the crowd to use the restroom. On my way back, I'd peep through the keyhole to my son's room begging him to open up. He never did. He stayed there all day.

Let me bring you up the speed. My son, Dayo's birth was quite different from the norm. Unlike other newborns, he smiled at his first contact with the new environment. He didn't cry. When I saw he had crossed eyes and a weird smile, I felt my heartbreak. I knew he was deformed in some kind of way, all I wanted the was a perfect human. As he grew and developed, I noticed some odd character traits in him. Then, the doctors told me he was Schizophrenia positive. 

 My baby boy grew to be a good-looking teenager despite the delay in his walking and talking stages. Eighteen by age but behaved like a ten-year-old, loved his cartoons and teddy bears and could not speak so well.  He usually had anxiety disorders which almost claimed his life on a particular trip to Dubai. 

Even with my busy schedule, I never forget to take him on our regular Friday movie and ice cream dates. I got a lot of support in training him that one would doubt that I was a single mum. For all the years I've been with him, that was the first time he refused to speak to me. I could no longer bring myself to get back to the party. All I wanted was to see my son. Then I came to the door again. I brought his doctor with me because I wanted someone by my side to comprehend everything.

 She was a little older than me and also a friend to the family.  Being the only person that understood Dayo's condition medically, it was a responsible choice to let her know.   “I brought you cake” Doctor Fumi said in her sweetest voice as she knocked calmly. “Wait...” I whispered. “He likes cake?”  “Yes, with plenty peanut butter. I had one of the waiters cut out a slice for me”.  “I see,” I said with an awkward smile, disappointed that I did not know that. 

He hesitated and repeated the same thing I got all night “Go away”. I was confused, All I asked in my head was “why?” Me, go away? We were in front of his door begging and knocking all evening that I had not realized the party was almost over. It was getting dark and the DJ was packing up already. I managed to bid a few of my friends goodbye praying that they don't notice the facial expression. 

If only I could see him because I was terrified by the thoughts of him being all by himself in that bedroom. 

The door cracked open and he peeped. Still seeing us there, he cringed and shut it again. No, he cringed when he saw me and gave the doctor a half-smile. 'At least, we are sure he's alive' I thought out aloud, Doctor Fumi smiled in agreement. She offered him the peanut butter cake again.

“Tell her to go...to go away” he stuttered. Then she looked at me with pity eyes and I could hardly drag my feet to leave. My own Ifedayo, it was so unbelievable.         

A few hours later, I was in the sitting room with my daughters after I explained to them all that went down. One would see us and think we were mourning, I was relieved when I heard Doctor's footsteps approaching. 


“Tinu, he saw your diary.” She said with the most disappointing eyes.


To be continued...

Image Credit: Google (Masterfile)



Anakor Vanessa M. A Nigerian enthusiastic writer of human interactions and fiction stories. She looks towards securing a challenging role in the writing company, to bring fresh value and vision to the business. She is aspiring to be an author and scriptwriter shortly.


Leave a comment, share and subscribe for more short stories!










 










 




 


 

Comments

Post a Comment