For the first time in five years, I woke up before everyone. Not everyone in the world though; I can only speak for those in my family. I'm a deep sleeper, so the alarm beside my bed has always done the magic of waking me up. And my mum is always the first person I see. Sometimes I wonder if she ever sleeps. Seeing her sleep soundly beside my snoring dad sent shivers down my spine. It was 4:30 AM. I'd already taken my bath and packed my things. We were travelling to France.
France isn't actually my dream country, but leaving Nigeria and travelling in a plane was enough to crown it a good news. We were going to Paris, the capital city. I've heard a lot of good things about the city, and I've seen pictures of wonderful places in it too. I cross checked my luggage, making sure the camera my dad bought for me on my fifteenth birthday was in it. We weren't rich enough to go to France on an holiday though. My dad's company sponsored it, that's what he told me. The time was far spent already - I couldn't believe my eyes when I checked the wall clock. It was just few minutes to six. My parents had already woken up. I could hear sounds from the kitchen; it was obvious my mum was fixing something for us to eat. I tiptoed to the kitchen, making sure my footsteps didn't make a sound. I wanted to surprise her.
"Good morning to you too, Mary."
I would have called her a witch if I didn't know her. She still had her back turned to me, and I wondered how she knew I was there. I was sure I didn't make a sound.
"You startled me five years ago when you woke up before me and your dad. I knew you would do the same this morning when I checked your room and noticed you were awake. You were so deep in thought, else you should have seen me walked in." She said, looking at me this time.
I couldn't help but hugged her. I was so lucky to have her as a mother. I noticed her eye was red when I left her embrace. The only time I saw her eyes like that was when my dad had an accident. The only explanation to the red eye was, she'd cried all night.
"Are we not going to Paris anymore?" I asked.
"Of course you are going. Your dad is dressed up already and breakfast is ready." She said and left the kitchen with a big tray in her hands.
Only two cups of tea was on the tray and she was still in her night gown. My dad had said we would leave the house before seven. There was no way she would prepare before that time, I thought. Then the pronoun she used struck my brain.
"You? What do you mean? Aren't you going with us?"
She was silent. Only our footsteps could be heard as we walked to the dinning room. My Dad was already sited. She got busy with the bread and butter on the table. I looked at my dad who was waiting to get a loaf of bread from her. She had a fight with my dad, and my dad refused to take her along. That's what I thought.
"Dad, please forgive her. Let her come with us, please."
"I will come next time, dear. I have so many things to take care of at home. Your dad isn't stopping me." My mum said, after wiping her face clean with the wrapper she tied.
It was now obvious she cried. What she said wasn't making sense to me. It was just an holiday. We weren't going to live there, so I wondered what she meant by coming to meet us next time. My dad didn't say a word all through. He finished his meal and walked out. The horn of his car was heard minutes later. He was waiting for me to come out. I bade my mum goodbye and she hugged me tighter than before.
We got to France earlier than I expected. The fact that air was the fastest means of transport wasn't exaggerated after all. My dad really made my stay worthwhile. For a minute, I forgot my mum. He tried making me like Paris. We weren't alone though. A white woman was with us. The way she interacted with my dad showed they knew each other. I wanted to ask but I thought otherwise. Meanwhile, the woman was using every opportunity to hold my hands. She was a stranger and my dad was cool with it despite what he had told me about strangers. We later got to a house I assumed to be the lady's. She entertained us well, and I started liking her already. We'd only spent six hours in Paris and I felt like living there all my life. My dad and the lady sat down in front of me after we watched a TV series. Their expressions showed they wanted to tell me something.
"Mary, We've always wanted to tell you this, but your mum won't let me. She's scared of how you will see her. Don't blame her, please." My dad said.
"You are getting me scared, dad. What is it? Hope mum is fine?"
"She's not your real mum. Miss Courtney is your biological mum."
It all dawned on me. I finally understood the reason for my mum's red eye and the stranger's generosity. The lady didn't even look like me, or maybe she does. All I wanted at that moment was to see my mum.
"I don't believe you. She's white and I'm black. You've always said I look like my mum, dad." I couldn't stop the tears from flowing.
"You are black because he's your dad, Mary." Miss Courtney said.
I felt like slapping her. What kind of mother leaves her child after childbirth and comes back few weeks to her sixteenth birthday?
"Your dad ran away with you. You were just two years old, and I thought he was taking you out as usual. I never knew he was returning to his country. I only got to know where he was last month. It took me fourteen years to find out. We've been in court these past weeks. He would have rot in jail, but I decided to forgive him because of you. You are mine now, Mary. Please I've missed fourteen years of your life; I will did if I miss more."
I would have sworn she read my mind. She gave me the answers I needed. I felt pity for her, but I wanted to be with my mum too. The mum I've grown to known. I was in a dilemma.
"I want to know you, Miss Courtney, but I need to speak with my mum. Can you invite her here, please."
"Okay. I'll make some contacts." She said.
It was meant to be a short stay. Now I'm stuck in Paris.
