Chapter 13: the drift II

The interiors of the building felt cold unlike the fading warmth it had once brought to my insides. Nothing had changed but everything was different. The furniture was in a dilapidated condition and it was crying loudly for a change. It made me wonder, had the extreme poverty of then continued? I had hoped somewhere in my mind as a little consolation, that they would have at least escaped from the shackles of its hold but now as I viewed, it looked as though things had gotten worse. I instantly felt ashamed, that as I was living a luxury life my family was suffering.

"Welcome home Lade," he said, extending his hands towards the view with intended mockery but my eyes still wandered around in overawed assessment.

"It's different," I muttered, still shocked at the unappealing sight of a place I held dearest in my heart. My eyes moved from the unpainted walls, to the patched roofs and then the empty living room, before falling back to the walls again. If I remembered clearly there was a large portrait of a family picture hung directly at the centre of the parlour but now the space was empty, remaining only the half beaten nail used in hanging it safely to the wall. 

"Where is the framed picture?" I asked my eyes still glued to the empty spot on the wall and I heard the shuffling of his feet before he came to stand right beside me.

"Non-existent like this family."

"Did you throw it away Tayo?" I asked again, staring at him in disbelief. That photo was supposed to be the only thing that still led me to believe and not doubt that the memories I carried on to my current life now were not just illusions my subconscious set up to sustain sanity. All through, I remembered the terrible times in the past but I always prided the good ones over them. Presently as I stood here, this vicinity only spoke of a one sided truth that laid in ambush only in those terrible moments that were being displayed gradually, as of now.

"I made sure I shattered it to pieces, brother," he said unfazed, like he was happy with his actions.

"How could you!" I exclaimed in forthcoming anguish.

"It made no sense hanging up a lie, allowing myself to look at its sight everyday I wake."

"It wasn't your choice to make despite your thoughts," I said, pouring out everything finally after all those years.

"You make it sound like I was the only one who gave up on us," he bit back sparing me a glance before walking further inside the house.

"I never gave up on this family, on us, you were the ones who pushed me away," I said in an undertone and my words stopped him in his tracks.

"Did you regret it, destroying something so valid?" I asked, adding before he could reply to my previous statement.

"Did you also regret it, leaving?" He countered, bringing forth my own plate. His question put me in thought for a few moments and honestly everyday for 10 years I asked myself this exact thing but I never gave myself an answer and I think it was finally time to do so.

"No," I answered softly, almost inaudibly but he heard me because he shook his head, lifting the corners of his mouth in a bitter smile which fell back into a line immediately.

"I don't regret it either, destroying the photo or I might as well say giving up on our family. I was finally ready to move on then," he stated after a while and I knew my words hurt him as his voice gave him away.

"Then?"

"Yes, there seems to be unfinished business now," he answered, his gaze never wavering and I was wary of his look but I shrugged it off inwardly.

I took the first step by taking a seat on the battered couch, its foam contents pouring out at some areas with patches and holes. He joined me a little while after, still not flinching his hardened stare but giving up when I didn't follow up on his statement before settling down too. The lack of foam in the cushion made it seem as if I was sitting directly on the wooden hold and seeing as how he sat comfortably without any discomfort he must have been used to this.

"So tell me what has my little brother been up to; hobbies, work, love life, family, photography?" I queried, adding the last word because I recalled he had a knack in taking awesome realistic photos. My brother was the creative one in the family, his imagination ran wild and he used it to his advantage at such a young age in creating awesome pictures, drawings, even book fictions too. I wanted to grow up with him and help him harness this ability of his and help it blossom into something spectacular, too bad life didn't ever go as you planned.

"I should be asking you that I mean, new home, new job, luxury life, you were practically living the dream Lade," he said with heeded mirth, effectively dodging my questions.

"Well it never became a reality for me," I said below my breath as he lifted his leg over the other with a distant smile sitting at the bottom of his features. He was silently pleased that I was in some way unhappy. I denoted the idea from his actions and it was disconcerting and a bit painful but I guess he was being driven by vengeful emotions built up in the space of time.

"Why is that?" He asked but I wasn't ready to dwell on presiding facts and soothe his anger with tales of my displeasure.

"Does Ma stay here too?" I asked after a while of silence that was created when I had concluded the previous topic with a brisk flip of my hand.

"Something like that," he replied but his words were unclear and it fueled my curiosity.

"Why do you speak vaguely?" I asked after he had stood to grab a glass.

"You know I'll never forgive you," he started and his words caught me off guard even though I had been expecting an outburst from him.

  I knew I would receive hurtful words when I got here, just that, I wondered why he was calm at the beginning till now.

I didn't say anything as I waited for him to vent it all out. He gulped down the remaining contents from the glass of water he was holding and then he sparked, or so I thought.

"If only you had been here a year earlier or two or if you had never left," he said with his tone low rather than the outburst I expected and with extreme pain evident in voice.

"What do you mean?" I asked trying to understand what he was saying but then I dreaded the impending clarity.

"You left me to fend for them alone and I was 16 Lade!" He exclaimed, laying all the blame on me when I hadn't even known what he was talking about.

"I have apologized for that," I stated matching my tone with his.

"And I recalled telling you, you were already too late," he said and I saw clearly, the anger in his eyes. His emotions were on full display now and I saw deep down that to him, I was the enemy that caused everything.

"Where is Mom?" I asked again while running my hand through my hair when another period of silence reigned.

He didn't answer me and his stance wavered as he placed himself back on the couch.

His hands went up to his face, his body racking up in a series of uncontrollable sobs, which were strongly repressed and tried vigorously to extinguish but it was to no avail.

"2 years ago, she was..." he started and his sniffles drowned out the following words.

I went numb inside me as a buzzing sound erupted in my head, and it began to pound in fear of his revelation. I didn't want to hear what was running through my mind, as if that was the case I would never forgive myself too.

"She has stage four Lung cancer Lade."