Olivia and I shared a look as they continued to banter in Yoruba. We are both used to it by now. The first time they did it, she was so confused and asked me to interpret but I told her I didn’t understand it and we both sat there.
When they were done my father looked me square in the eye and said. “We could have just sold you and you wouldn’t have known.”
Olivia freaked out, I told her it was a joke and I had to explain that my father has a weird sense of humor.
By the time they were done eating, I took the dishes to the kitchen while my father turned the TV on to the news channel. I have a theory that he never actually watches and he just likes the TV playing in the background because I have never seen him actually stare at the TV with rapt attention.
Even growing up he would have his phone in his hands or his laptop opened in front of him but I don’t remember a single incident where I actually saw him concentrate on the news channel.
I was loading the dishes into the dishwasher when I heard footsteps behind me. I knew it was him without looking up. I can be in a room with a hundred people and my father would walk in and I would tell you those are his footsteps.
“I don’t know why you people will be using machine to wash your plate,” he began as he leaned against the counter. “Normal people will use their hand, you will sit down and use machine.”
“You use a machine too.”
“Am I your age mate? At my age should I still be washing plate with my hand? What is wrong with your own hand that you cannot wash plate?”
“E ma binu sir.”
“At least you can say something. You will not completely disgrace us outside.” A small laugh burst out of my chest and I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Sit down I want to talk to you.”
I pulled out the stools and sat down next to him. He stayed silent for a full minute and I actually started to worry. I have never known my father to mince words or second guess his thoughts but the fact that he is doing so now is a little alarming.
“You didn’t tell us when you came back,” he began. “Olivia is the one who told us that you were not around. Emiade what is happening?”
Translation: He was worried
“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I was busy and I know that is not an excuse. I could have called or sent a text but I didn’t and I am sorry.”
“I heard you were with one boy. What is his name again?”
“Nathan,” I couldn’t keep the smile out of my voice as I spoke and my dad raised a brow.
“Who is this Nathan?”
“He is someone I work with.”
He made a dismissive sound under his throat. “I have turned to a child that you are lying to. Okay o, don’t tell me today, you will come another day.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I refused to meet his eyes but we both knew that he was right.
Sooner or later I am going to tell him about Nathan. I don’t know whether it would be on good terms or on bad but he will hear about it at some point when I am ready to share.
“If you came to inquire about my love life-”
“That’s not why I came,” he cut me off and I fell silent. “I was looking at videos and I saw people talking about that show you traveled for.”
I shut my eyes and buried my face in my hands. One thing I have tried to do is shield my parents from the harsh realities of the media. I have filtered their search engines and blocked millions of accounts but there will always be that stray video that just pops up and ruins their fantasy bubble.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Why are you sorry?” he asked. “Your dress was fine and Nathan, he is manageable small.” My head snapped up at that, “Is it because I did not call him ugly? I cannot call him ugly until he messes up.”
“I thought you saw something negative.”
“No, it was just one video of you like that. I sent it to all my friends and I told them that you made that dress by yourself. Your aunty in Ondo said you will make her daughter’s traditional wedding dress.”
I sat up straight, “Dad, please tell me you said no.”
