"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived and let me watch him do it."
- Clarence Budington Kelland.
If there wasn't a bandana around Adira's head when her hormones decided to act crazy, it was a beret. And today, being as crazy as it was, she wore a bandana.
Unlike everybody she knew, she wasn't fond of wearing clothes. She either stayed home naked wearing just her underthings or she threw in a T-shirt if she for some reason felt someone was watching her from afar.
She wore a white boxy T-shirt and tied a yellow bandana around her head. She strutted in front of her wardrobe as if ready for war.
"Okay, what am I to wear below?" she muttered to herself.
She clapped her hands then began her search for a jean trouser as she unconsciously sought out the darker colours. She finally settled on wearing a black jean trouser, which she struggled to put on with the help of some leg exercises like the jumping jacks and a few lunges.
Ultimately, she got the skinny jeans on.
"Finally," she breathed.
She got to the table where she placed her accessories and pulled out an acetate sunglasses to protect her eyes from the sun's fierce attack. A black embossed scandal completed her look.
"Daddy, open the door!" Adira banged on the door ferociously. As usual, she had been standing outside the house. She had been standing there for five minutes and a few seconds. Not that she was counting or anything.
Her father peeped through the door when he opened it. "Sorry, my dear," he grinned ruefully.
"No problem," she said as she got in the house. "I'm used to it anyway," she muttered behind him.
"If you're used to it, why are you angry then?"
She shot him a look. "Daddy leave me alone. I'm not in the mood."
"You're never in the mood."
Adira crossed her hands and glared away at her father's stare. She turned her eyes to the table, then she blinked.
Twice.
On the syrup table strewn out in its erotic glory laid a sex magazine.
"Jesus Christ of Nazareth!" Adira exclaimed.
Daniel looked at her, a very startled man.
"Ah ah, daddy. It might be normal for you but you don't have to leave evidence," she said and gestured to the magazine.
"What do you mean by that?"
She pointed at the magazine.
Daniel nodded. "I know. What do you mean by I don't have to leave evidence?"
"If you want to read a sex magazine, I suggest you don't show it to the general public."
"Who said it was mine?"
"Oh," Adira smiled wistfully, her tribal marks stretching. "Who has it, then?"
"Your brother."
"Jesus Christ," she shouted, louder than before. "You're joking."
"Don't call the name of the Lord in vain. It is frowned upon." Daniel shook his head and smiled. "Even though I did call on him a few times when I saw it."
"What was he doing with it?"
"What boys usually do," Daniel said listlessly.
"What do boys do with it?" she didn't know why she was asking but she asked anyway.
"Well-"
"Wait, don't answer that one. Forget I even asked," she interrupted. "How did you find it?"
"Well, I was just passing."
"You snooped," Adira commented. It was obvious. "You got into his room. You invaded his privacy."
"Adira," Daniel warned.
"Bad parenting, daddy," she shook her head. "Bad parenting."
"I did raise you well, Adira," he protested. "Don't judge me."
She laughed. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I haven't thought about anything yet. I'm waiting for your mother."
"Alright. How about Grace? She's a good girl, isn't she?"
"Well she's growing, so you can't say she's entirely good," Daniel chuckled. "She walks around with pelmets all in the name of skirts."
Adira snorted. "Not to school, I hope."
"She wouldn't dare. It's a missionary school for God's sake. Her principal would have my head. She just walks around the house with it."
"Then let her," Adira laughed. "What about Mama?"
"Oh, she's a good girl." Daniel smiled at his daughter. "You know, you didn't stress me this much when you were growing up. In fact, you didn't stress me at all. The only time things fell out of place was when you were a baby. We had to give you those tribal marks. You would always-"
"Daddy, I've heard that story," Adira interrupted, shaking her head. "A million times."
"Well, it is about you."
"Yes, it is. That's exactly why I get bored with it."
"Well," Daniel continued, not minding her. "Having you was the most precious thing to ever happen to us because we struggled so much to have a child. You came, a small bundle of both happiness and worry. Our sweet princess. When you were a little girl, merely six months old, you would always cry."
"Always," they said in unison and Adira rolled her eyes.
Daniel, on the other hand, smiled. "There wasn't a time you didn't," he sighed. "Everyone became worried and then I started to think that maybe you were tired of staying with us, with your mother, with me. I was really scared because you never wanted anything. Nothing made you stop. The only time you stopped crying was when you were asleep. The doctors said it was 'a phase' and that it would be over but it didn't. Then, one day, you fell ill. You became so pale and small that I thought I already lost you. And it was funny because..."
Adira raised her head from where it rested and stared. She had heard the story before, it was about her and that was exactly why she was tired of hearing it. But her father always had his own ways of making it feel like it was the first time she had heard about it.
"...you weren't crying that day.
"Your mother was scared to death. She was so scared that she didn't meet a doctor or a pastor or even a reverend but she ran straight to your grandmother, who, without a second thought, took you straight to a traditional doctor. That was where and when they gave you those beautiful tribal marks to drive away those evil spirits that came to take you away from us."
Daniel turned to face her. "Wouldn't you ask why?"
Adira laughed lightly. She had tears in her eyes. She already knew why, but, "why?" she asked anyway.
"Because they knew you would grow up to be such a beautiful girl," he answered, his voice breaking a little.
Adira crawled and sat on the floor next to him. She placed her head on his lap. The house without warning lapsed into the silence it blatantly preferred.
"Are you thirsty?" Daniel asked out of the blue, his soft hand on her forehead stroking it tenderly.
"Yes," Adira chuckled. "What do you have for me?"
He excused himself, getting up from where he sat gently and strolling into his room. Adira sat where she was but with a remote in her hand as she browsed through channels on the TV. She stopped on a fashion channel and sighed. The look of models made her happy. It was always her dream to walk the runway, wear prestigious pieces of jewellery, meet with super-sexy tycoons, and travel the universe.
She felt like a child whenever her imaginations came to her mind and that was why she let them there. She felt they were too high and she was never going to reach it.
Daniel returned with two empty glasses and a bottle of Scottish creme liqueur. It was obviously not expensive but fun was fun.
He placed the bottle and glasses on the table, poured himself three ounces of liqueur, and sat down.
"Kill yourself with your own hands, my love," he gestured to the bottle.
Adira chuckled and poured herself a glass.
"So daddy, gist me," she said when she got to her seat. "What's up with you? What have you got?"
"Rashes, for one."
"Daddy," she laughed, falling on the sofa.
"The heat is just too much, mbok," he complained.
"Sorry."
"There is no electricity. When you buy a generator, you hardly get fuel in the station."
Adira smiled piteously. "Sorry," she repeated.
"Stop apologizing. It's not your fault."
"I brought something for you. You'll love it."
"It is wine?"
Adira squinted her eyes in his direction. "Close."
"Books then?"
"Very close."
"Music?"
"Yes!"
Daniel inhaled. "I'll be back shortly. Let me change, eh?"
Adira frowned. "Why?" her voice sounded hurt.
"Because I want to go out and you're coming with me."
"Oh, okay," she rolled her eyes. "What about the music? Aren't you going to listen to it?"
"Adira, I'm not dying today. I promise I'll listen to it when we get back, eh?"
"Okay," she agreed.
Outside the house, at the corner of the compound under a mango tree, an old Mercedes parked. Daniel strutted to the car, his car keys digging as he moved.
Adira ran to open the gates for him. When her father parked his car at the side of the road she closed it and ran to the car, settling in the passenger's seat.
"Okay, let's go."
Daniel raised the engine, engaged the gear, and swung the car into the road. It all happened in the blink of an eye.
He hit the steering wheel of the car. Adira turned to look at him, certainly mystified.
"Powerful old thing," he declared smugly. "I love this car."
Adira laughed and put her hand out the window.
"So, daddy."
"Yes, dear?"
"Are we going a long distance away from home?"
"Define long."
"Okay. Where are we going?"
"Strolling."
"But, we are in a car."
"Eh."
"Eh, what?"
"Eh, I know."