.
Anastasia Mayham.
Before dad could even pull the car to a halt under the carpark shade, the huge silver doors to the mansion jolted open and just as expected, mum rushes out with her elder sister, my aunt trailing behind with worried looks on their faces.
Aunt Christine? Mum's older sister? My aunt?
Are you confused? Well, don't be.
I'll make a little introduction.
Aunt Christine is a lady in her late forty's, married for more than a decade but separated for the time being. According to mum, aunt Christine had discovered that her husband had been cheating on her with the secretary at his office and in the process, had impregnated the younger lady, so currently, herself and her estranged husband are so not on great terms. He had even moved out from the mansion, leaving only a few of his belongings hanging here and there.
Aside from being mum's only sibling and the older of them both, Aunt Christine has got two kids. Very much grown up now.
Meet Salsa, the eldest and the only daughter plus the most responsible of both children Aunt Christine has. Salsa is currently studying Business administration far away in Harvard Business school and as for Jeremy, her immediate younger brother has been studying Law (so I was told) at the University of Lagos, for more than eight years. (That really puzzles me because I'd already hit up Google and the years allotted to Law should actually be lesser than eight) and of course, it's pretty clear he's the least responsible.
I'm yet to meet him one-on-one though.
"Sweetheart," Mum says in slight panic and rushing into dad's wide open arms, they lock in a warm embrace. "Anastasia" She then says after disengaging from dad and plants a peck on my cheek.
"What took you both so long? Why were you not taking my phone calls? Why did you not allow the driver drive you around? Why did you have to drive the car yourself?!"
And her caring yet bratty side finally unveils.
I don't think I will be patient enough to stand questioning right now.
"Mum, I gotta go in and take a nap. I'm tired already. My muscles are aching, my legs are almost falling off and my eyes? They are hurting badly and I do not think my ears can withstand any more stress" I say in one breath, watching mum's face transform into that of surprise.
She has every right to be since I'd never spoken to her in that manner before.
I resist the urge to cry, clenching my fists, unclenching them thereafter and looking anywhere else but mum.
Clutching my purse to myself, I sniffle back a tear threatening to spill and slowly walk past her and in likewise ways, I do just thesame to Aunt Christine who had her arms crossed over the other. Thankfully no one went after me.
Alone time. That is what I need. I just want to be alone so I can think.
"We went to the orphanage" I could hear dad reply mum from behind and too tired to even bother eavesdropping on their conversation –which I know will likely become an argument– I jog up the golden spiral staircase and follow through the path that leads to my room en route.
'It's leukemia in its deadly stage,' I had overheard the tall, dark-skinned male doctor on a white coat and stethoscope, say to dad back there in the hospital. 'She has leukemia'
Letting out a deep sigh, I push open my door after inserting the key into the door hole. Switching the light on, I shut the door close and exhausted, I lean onto it for support.
Memories from the hospital scene continue replaying in my head and somehow, I can feel my heart breaking in pieces.
"It's in its advanced stage and the symptoms that accompany it can no longer be contained" The doctor had said to dad and even though I was seated on the couch a bit far from the both of them, I could still read his lips.
"Dizziness, a bit of mood swings, constant vulnerability to illnesses since the rate of blood cell production is threatened"
Shaking off the thoughts from my head for a while, I leave the door side and swiftly taking off my white sneakers and fluffy jacket, I land straight on the Queen size bed.
"Can...can something not be done about it? Like therapy? Or surgery? Or bone marrow transplant?"
The look in dad's eyes had made me give up my last attempt at holding back the emotions welling up in my heart. His eyes screamed desperation, a tiny ray of hope and maybe, fear.
Of course, he's a doctor so he should already know the answers to the questions he was demanding, even though he kept inquiring.
A single teardrop at a time, followed by another and in the next minute, I am in a sober mess. Pressing my handkerchief to my face, I feel the salty liquid dripping down my cheeks at the reality of it all.
Miracle might never get better....
-------------
11:00pm.
That is what the clock reads at this hour and rolling from side to side on my bed, then finally leaning on my belly at a point, I hiss as realization damned on me.
Hunger.
I'm hungry.
Very hungry.
So hungry to the point that I can't even tell if I'm fully asleep or awake or otherwise.
This cannot be happening to me. Not now.
'You brought this upon yourself, Anastasia' The voice in my head scolds and from my minds eye, I can imagine her wiggling her index finger at me. 'If you had not insisted on being an arse to your mum and everyone else, then this may not have happened!'
Grabbing the huge teddy bear leaning on the far end of the bed, I shut my eyes close, trying my very best to get back to sleep. After all, going back to sleep shouldn't be that difficult, should it?
Before I could even try to force myself back to sleep however, the sharp growl in my stomach ruins my last attempt of trying to get a good night's rest.
'So this is what hunger feels like,' I hear myself accept defeat and feel terribly guilty for the first time in a long while.
I somehow find myself reminiscing on how I had behaved back at the orphanage home. From how I had distinctly segregated myself from the kids to how I had to continuously behave like an arse to everybody and rant like a spoilt brat (which I really am) and how I had dumped the full cone of icecream in the refusebin because I felt 'irritated'.
Who the hell did I think I was?
'At least you've learnt your lessons' The inner voice in my heart says; '...and that's all that matters'
That's all that matters....
Careful enough to make little to no sound at all, I slip on my yellow flipflops and slowly, made my way out the door.
The exterior is a lil bit dim lighted since it is night time and sometimes, that made my walking out very difficult since I had to bump on quite a few stuffs on my way.
Maybe I should just quit this idea, what do you think?
I mean, it's already a few minutes after eleven. It's just six or seven hours more before a new day and I can have breakfast.
And speaking of breakfast, I really should tender a sincere apology to mum first thing tomorrow morning. I feel bad for being so rude and that wasn't fair to her.
Heading for the kitchen and badly craving for pineapple juice and jam doughnuts, I push open the fridge and serve myself elaborately.
You only live life once so, why not enjoy it?
Tactically making my way out of the kitchen just the same way I had gotten in and clutching the chilled pineapple juice to myself, I by-pass the next room which happens to be the storeroom.
Careful Tasia, you're almost there.
Twenty more steps. Twenty more before I get to my room.
Quietly....
"You have got to be kidding me, honey!" A shrill sound came from the room by the left, the home library to be exact. What's happening there? "Why do you never listen to me?"
There's the sound of something heavy dropping to the German floors, most probably one of dad's study books.
I find something quite bewildering and that is, the scolding voice that sounded just like mum.
Turning to the Gucci watch strapped across my wrist –obviously I had forgotten to take it off before I fell asleep– I almost nearly gasp.
11:40pm.
It's almost twelve midnight and mum is still awake?
Now, that is what I call most highly ridiculous and unlike her.
"You're the one who's thickheaded, babe" I hear another person of deeper tone respond in apparent anger. You could smell the anger from a far distance. "You as well never ever listen to me. All you think, my dear, is nothing other than yourself, yourself and yourself alone!"
And that sounded just like dad's.
Something smells fishy.
"You have changed so much, Gracia and you know it goddamn too well," I hear dad continue in unfazed anger. He didn't sound like the calm father that had taken me out on a cruise around Lagos early this morning. He sounded different, stressed and maybe, even depressed. "You are no longer that innocent and kind hearted woman I got married to over fifteen years ago. You've changed so much that I can't even understand or comprehend you anymore—"
"You think I have changed that much, huh?" I hear mum snap in reply and before I can hold back, my very own feet lead me in the direction of the library from where their voices have been re-echoing.
'Anastasia, this is not a good idea' I can hear my subconscious counterpart warn but I pay no heed nonetheless.
"You are being hypocritical if you keep saying that because sadly, you are the one who changed first!" I hear mum say in exasperation as I approach closer. "You changed me"
"Aside from not been fully there for your family, you reduced the time you spent with me, your wife. All you cared about was your work, your promotions, your friends, your buddies.... You just stopped been the good man I had married!"
"But I got you gifts, presents...." Dad cuts in with a deep sigh; "Every parties you wanted organised, I gave you my full support and our daughter, you have never been really there for her as well but I never complained. I filled in the gap for you because I loved you"
"Point of correction, Mr man!" I hear mum yell back. "Who told you I needed your gifts? Who told you I sincerely cared about those luxurious cars you got me? I never wanted those."
"All I wanted was you. You alone George! Time spent with you are my most treasured memories. Your time was all I wanted. To hell with your gifts and money"
"Gracia—"
"No, baby" Mum cuts him off abruptly. "You've spoken your shit, now's my turn to spill mine. Were you trying to paint me up as a bad mother to our daughter? Really, George?!"
The next second, I hear soft sobs and instinctively, I can tell it's mum who's crying. Very surprising though because the mum I knew rarely cried.
She must feel really bad.
"How about you explaining to me why you took our daughter to the orphanage when you knew pretty well that she can't stand kids?—"
"Well that's because you have chosen to hide the truth from her all this years. It's all your fault I was left with no choice!"
The truth? Hiding the truth?
What truth?
"My fault?" I hear mum question and choke back a sob. "You do not understand your daughter and you're trying to pin the fault on me, huh? You know what, George? Screw you, is the perfect word I can give you right now"
Now, hold on a second, Anastasia.
What exactly do I think I'm doing?
My parents are having an argument, most likely a normal couples fight and here I freaking am, standing outside the library eavesdropping on them!
No, this is so not the right thing to do.
I take determined tiptoes away from the closed library doors whilst been careful not to make any sound but that is until—
"Screw me?" I hear dad say before a feat of laughter ensued in the room, a bitter laugh I can tell. "If there's anyone who should be screwed right now, it's you Gracia"
"Who insisted we hide the truth that Anastasia is adopted, for fear of what the media would say?–YOU. Who had insisted we never bring her to Nigeria for fear of her uncovering the truth?– YOU. Who had connived with her own sister without letting her husband know?– YOU. Who decided to hide the truth about her health challenges from her husband –YOU. Who chose to live a life of pride and—"
"Just stop!. STOP IT!" I hear mum cry out. "Enough, George!"
This cannot be.....no, this cannot be.
"No.....no" I find myself whispering to no one in particular, shaking my head frantically, trying to shake those words off my head.
Adopted.
I'm adopted....
Anastasia Mayham is adopted!!
The broken pieces of the puzzle begins to fit in my head.
St Peters Orphanage...
The nice elderly Reverend sister who appeared to know me so well.... Everything... every single freaking thing was no coincidence.
Everything was planned.
Planned!.
"Nooooo!" I hear someone scream and sadly, it turns out to be my very own self.
This cannot be true.... this cannot be happening to me.....this...no way!
And in just the same minute the library doors push open, I hear the glass of juice in my hands slip away and land with a loud crash on the floor.
"Anastasia! What are you doing here?"
***********************
Suspense! suspense!! suspense!!!
Yeah, I know😂. Abeg no vex ooo, my wonderful people.
Again, thanks for reading another chapter of 'My Kids and I'....do not forget to VOTE 🌟🌟, COMMENT 👇👇 and SHARE for more sharp sharp updates.
Sending loads of kisses your way. One love💋💖