In the sitting room, surrounded by solitude, I lay on the mat that had become my makeshift bed since arriving in Port Harcourt. Placing my hands beneath my head, I gazed up at the ceiling. The gnawing hunger in my stomach reminded me of the harsh reality of my situation. The emptiness signaled a long night ahead. It hadn't always been this way. Everything changed because of love.
I encountered Mr. Anthony on Facebook. He was a pastor at one of our church branches in Port Harcourt. He exuded warmth and chattiness, making me feel at ease discussing my life with him. Our conversations often revolved around his ministry and his wonderful family. After completing my National Youth Service, I found myself uncertain about the next steps in life. During one of our talks, I confided my worries to him. In response, he extended an invitation to come to Port Harcourt, promising to assist me in finding employment.
Initially, my father was hesitant about the idea, but after persistent persuasion, he relented and allowed me to go. I arrived at Port Harcourt and was warmly welcomed by Mr. Anthony. True to his promise, he had arranged a teaching job for me at a school within the estate where he resided. However, what he failed to disclose was that his wife was struggling with mental health issues, and he required assistance with caring for his two sons and daughter.
He lived in a modest two-bedroom flat with simple furnishings. A tall wooden stand holding the television, radio, and photo albums adorned the living room, separating it from the dining area. The dining room doubled as my dressing space, while I made my bed on the mat near the center table each night.
I assisted the children with their schoolwork, laundry, and meals, taking on a caretaking role within the household. With the wife mostly confined to her room, the children gravitated towards me, forming a bond. The daughter even opted to sleep beside me on the floor instead of in her own room. Everything seemed harmonious until I crossed paths with Lucky.
The light on my phone illuminated the darkened room, and I glanced to see Lucky's name flashing on the screen. Quickly, I silenced the call and flipped the phone upside down to quell the glare. Conversing with him was the last thing I desired. I yearned to bury memories of what had transpired that night. I closed my eyes, focusing on the vibrations of the phone and the echoing words of Mr. Anthony in my mind.
"You disobeyed my order and persisted in seeing Lucky behind my back. Unless you cease all contact with him, as I've instructed, you won't be allowed in my kitchen, let alone eat any food in this house." Mr. Anthony's voice boomed with authority. "Consider the time you waste returning home just for that guy. I've warned you; he's not suitable for you. What's your problem?"
"Sir, I'm twenty-five and perfectly capable of deciding who I want to date," I asserted, maintaining a respectful distance. "I understand there may be issues between you and Lucky, but that shouldn't dictate my own relationship with him."
"As long as you're under my roof, you'll abide by my rules. Don't be ungrateful," he retorted sharply before exiting the sitting room in a huff.
The incessant ringing of the phone grated on my nerves, and I finally powered it off. My head throbbed with a mix of burning tension. I needed a moment to clear my mind and assess my options, but none seemed viable. I was not financially buoyant enough to rent my own apartment; I cannot move in with Lucky or go back to my parents because my job is still important to me. Lost in thought, I drifted off to sleep without even realizing it.
The following morning, I encountered Mr. Anthony as I headed out for work and greeted him, receiving no response in return. At school, I purchased a plate of food from the vendor near the gate, who soon became my go-to for meals. Given the strained circumstances at home, I started having both breakfast and dinner at her place. Despite being barred from the kitchen, I continued assisting the children with their schoolwork and laundry.
Two months later, my aunt contacted me with news of a federal government job offer. Initially, I hesitated, torn by my deep affection for Lucky and my reluctance to be distant from him. However, after my family intervened, I made the difficult decision to leave Port Harcourt. Despite my efforts to make amends, Mr. Anthony showed no interest in reconciliation. I bid farewell to the children, wishing them the best, and relocated to Asaba to embark on the next chapter of my life.
Years later, as I scrolled through my phone, a missed call notification from Chinedu, Mr. Anthony's son, caught my attention. It had been five years since I parted ways with them, and I hadn't heard from any of them since. Without hesitation, I opened WhatsApp and dialed him back, anxiously waiting as the phone rang.
"Good afternoon, Aunt! It's been such a long while," he greeted, his voice still exuding the same innocence as ever.
"Good afternoon, Chinedu. It's wonderful to hear from you. How is everyone doing?"
"Everyone is doing well, Aunt. It's lovely to hear from you too. How have you been? Have you tied the knot?"
His question elicited laughter from me. "Not yet, Chinedu. I'm still single, but hopefully that will change soon."
The other end fell silent, and I pondered whether it was a network issue. I called his name a few times before he finally responded.
"I'm here, Aunt. It's just that there's something I need your help with, but I wasn't sure how to ask," he admitted.
"C'mon, Chinedu. You know, you can ask me anything. You're like a little brother to me," I reassured him.
We had a lengthy conversation, and by the end of it, I made a transfer of $25 to him, which he needed for traveling to Kwara State for a crucial interview for a housemanship placement just two days away. He has been unsuccessful with his efforts to raise the funds independently, and his father couldn't assist due to financial constraints. He was overjoyed upon receiving the alert and expressed his gratitude through a message overflowing with prayers for me.
Two weeks later, I received a message from Chinedu's father on Facebook. It read, "Hi Faith, how are you doing? My son told me that you were the one who sent him the money he needed. I was deeply ashamed when he informed me because I knew I had treated you badly. Thank you very much for helping him out, and I also want to use this opportunity to ask for forgiveness for everything. Please forgive me."
I stared at the message for a few minutes, unsure of how to respond. After some contemplation, I placed my hands on the keyboard and typed, "You don't have to apologize. I forgave you a long time ago. It's all water under the bridge now." I read the response three times before finally pressing the send button.
Well, at least he was right about one thing. Lucky wasn't the right fit for me, as we parted ways after I secured the new job. Another message popped up from him inquiring about Lucky and me, but I chose to ignore it. It was not a day to dwell on the past.