Charles mother's voice echoed in the air and it was as though l was deaf for some seconds. in the twinkling of an eye, Charles father fell to the ground again, this time, vibrating like chicken whose head had been cut off.
l swallowed a gasp. "Is he dead?" l asked myself as my heartbeat increased. l gazed at the woman whose blow had sent a man writhing in the ground.
There was a brief silence and then Charles mother let out a cackle and headed for her flat.
l had always thought that women were the weaker sex, "What then happened in Charles mother case ?" l muttered.
The scene was over and the crowd was disappearing gradually. some were clapping their hands in awe saying "Wonders shall never end," while some others were saying "That woman is a witch oh."
Soon, everybody had gone and father called an ambulance to carry Charles father to the hospital.
Charles had come out crying after hearing what happened to his father; he was probably sleeping at the time of the incident.
"Your father would be fine," Mum assured him.
Charles was my age-mate. Dad had said that he would buy me a laptop if my Junior School Certificate Examination result was better than Charles result. Mum later bought me the laptop, saying that it was rude for Dad to give me conditions before buying me anything. Dad cared less when the laptop was bought; even when he saw some of the nude pictures which l downloaded from the internet, he didn't utter a word nor gave me any advice. He, rather, tapped me on the back and left. l thought it was because l was the only child, but, then, Charles was never given anything he wanted unless his mother wanted him to have it. His mother almost plucked off his eyes when he looked incessantly at Bella, one of our classmates, in church, on a Sunday. Sometimes l stared lustfully at women in the church in Dad's presence and Dad would ask me if she was beautiful or if l liked her. l was also never sent on an errand. Mum said l was still too young; that l could break my legs when climbing down the stairs, the same stairs l would climb down when going to school. l was no longer a child, but they still treated me like a baby, always doing all they could to avoid getting me upset.
"William!" Blessing called.
l heard my name but refused to answer. l stood there listening to the chirping of birds, looking at the school building that sat carefully down the untarred street. it was too close to home. l wanted a school far from home, so as to be totally free, but Dad had said he wanted me around to make sure that l was safe.
"Didn't you hear me calling you?" Blessing shouted; she never made a correct sentence when she spoke English.
"Are you talking to me?" l asked, looking around, as if searching for someone l knew that wasn't there. "Well, l doubt," l added, starring at her.
"Foolish boy, blakfast is ready," she said and turned to leave.
"It is your father and your mother that are foolish," l thundered, coming closer to her. l felt powerful whenever l was around her, perhaps because of how short she was and her big head which was about the size of the FIFA balls used in football competitions. Her head kept shaking when she talked, as though it would fall from her her tiny neck.
Dad walked into the balcony to see both of us looking at each other, like a husband and wife who had just finished fighting the first round and were getting prepared for the second.
"What is the matter?" he asked, knitting his brows.
"Dad, she said l was foolish," l answered quickly, clenching my fist.
"What! you did what?" Dad's voice was thick and his eyes grew round, taking up more space. Then, the thud of a slap was heard; the slap made the usual sound, like a big book fell from a library shelf in school. Dad always defended me even if l was wrong.
"How dare you call my son a fool? You know tears trickled down her cheeks. Her eyes were already red like the mud.
I smiled, looking down to the ground and then raising my face to look at hers. Dad's huge palms had left parallel mark on Blessing's face, making her look more like an Muslim maiden.
Blessing left and went into the kitchen and Dad took me by hand into the living room.
Mum came out of her room carrying traveling bags. Her wrapper was dressy, with yellow print designs, and her matching blouse had yellow lace sewn into the puffy short sleeves. She was fair skinned with a pointed nose and her black hair was thickly curled, the hair she had earlier called 'rihanna' when l asked her the name. Blessing had said that l was a copy of Mum because of our close resemblance.
"Why carrying bags?" l asked curiously.
"Your mum and l are traveling to the village for a wedding; we should be in Orlu early enough, if we don't want to miss the weeding," father said.
"And when will you two be back?" l quizzed them.
"probably on Sunday, your mum has to lecture on Monday, and l wouldn't want her students to suffer idly," Dad answered, caressing mum's hair.
"And you refused to eat before this so-called trip. Huh?" l asked, but without waiting for a response, l took the bags and loaded them in the car booth downstairs. After some minutes, they zoomed off.
Breakfast was rice and stew; l ate alone because Blessing had locked herself up in her room. l didn't eat much since it was prepared by Blessing.
The food made me nauseous and l soon dozed off.
The sun's smile at noon provided a perfect day. Blessing had gone to market and l was alone at home, really bored. Light had come; l stood to turn on the television, and then, l heard a knock at the door. l wasn't expecting anyone, "Who could it be?"