I thought, walking towards the door. l peeped through the keyhole and saw Crystal. l opened the door straightaway.
She wasn't related to us at all, Dad had told me when l was still very little, Crystal had been very ill and on the brink of death. Her mother, being Dad's childhood friend, ran to Dad for help. Crystal was rushed to Father's hospital and was treated of her illness. Since then, Father became so fond of her. He was always excited whenever she came; the kind of excitement l never saw when he was with Mother.
"Good afternoon," l greeted courteously.
"Hello, where is your dad?" Crystal asked, her voice like an amber liquid along the sides of a brandy glass.
"He travelled with Mum to the village for a wedding," l replied.
"Oh," she exclaimed, her straight line lips, small and round like a tomato fruit opening to form a broad 'o'. Her pointed nose was no longer than that of Mum. For a while, l was speechless as l cast an appraising glance at her. Her tight pink skirt hung above her knee. The body-fitted black shirt she wore, which had the words "l love my life" elegantly emblazoned on it, exposed the base of her ample breasts, which looked like big balloons. She was four years older than l was but she looked older than her age.
We sat down opposite each other on the couch; the silence was heavy and brooding. Few minutes later, Crystal inserted a disc into the DVD drive. Shockingly, it was pornography; some minutes later she removed her clothes, at the point l stood up still staring at her, and, then, l heard my name.
"William come," she called in low tone and asked me to help her squeeze her breasts and, then, one thing led to another and l was no longer a virgin.
"It was a mistake," Crystal assured me afterwards. Nothing happened at all," She said firmly, nodding her head.
I smiled slightly and went into my room. ln my room, l was pensive for hours; l was thinking of what had happened. My first taste of stolen waters had made me want even more. l felt good, of course; it felt so good. Nothing was more enjoyable than what l had" l thought hysterically.
"Hello, mum"
"William, please, you should come to the hospital now. it's urgent," Mum spoke in a sober tone.
"Is anything wrong with Dad?" l asked frightfully.
"I said leave whatever you are doing and come, please; please oh"
"I'm sorry, l have something important to do this night, unless whatever you are going to tell me there is not going to take my time," l stated plainly.
"Ike, your father is at the point of death and he wants to speak with you," Mum said, crying over the phone.
My legs froze and my throat seemed to burn as l swallowed. "l will be there shortly," l said, finally ending the call. l threw the gun in no direction in particular and ran out of the room. My pulse throbbed and my hands kept trembling as l ran. Dad was at the point of death; l didn't really understand what Mum meant by that. l didn't want to lose Dad, despite the grudge l had against him. l just felt that he still had a role to play in my life. l kept running until l got to the main road and l chattered a 'taxi' to the New Revolution Hospital and Maternity.
"Where is my Dad?" l asked one of the nurses there as soon as l came in.
She beckoned me to follow her and l did. l walked into the room which the nurse pointed at.
Mum was sitting beside Dad, holding his hands firmly. Her swollen eyes gazed at me with despair as she shook her head lightly.
"Your father is soon going to join his ancestors," she said, sobbing.
"Mum, nothing will happen to Dad; he is going to be fine," l said. l didn't understand why Mum had just concluded that Dad was going to die, as though she had something to do with his death. Most women would have been optimistic about the situation, no matter how critical it had seemed. l come closer to Mum; her eyes were huge and the colour of crushed dark velvet, dewed with moisture. l shifted my gaze at Dad and he gave me a weak smile. l knew he put up a veneer of smiling to shield how critical his health condition was. l smiled, too, looking at the drip dropping slowly through the narrow pipe into Dad's body. It had reminded me of the first time l had seen Dad in a similar state when he was involved in an accident with Mum. "He had survived that; he would surely survive this one, too," l said confidently.
"My son," Dad spoke gruffly. The way he spoke like the dying old men l had seen in the movies made my body convulse with fear, the fear of being fatherless.
"Yes, Dad," l answered calmly.
"l have not been a good father and l sincerely ask for your forgiveness," he said and coughed.
"Brakor, don't talk, eh; please, stop talking.
You are not strong enough," Mum said as her face tightened into a grimace.
Dad kept coughing uncontrollably as he vibrated.
"Nurse! Doctor!" Mum shouted as she stood up to call for help.
I felt a rush of fear in my belly; it made my lips tremble and l thought my heart had skipped a beat. "Dad! you can't die, not so soon," l said holding his hands tightly, hoping that l could protect him.
"My son," Dad called and coughed again, still shaking "l should tell you this," he added slowly.
"What, Dad? What is it that cannot wait?" l asked unhappily. He was struggling to talk; l wanted him to have some rest.
"I don't have enough time; l don't think l would make it, son," he drawled, as his voice kept dropping notches lower than before.
My palms got sweaty and my lips became sticky and had sealed to each other.