Chapter 5 #2
Cassandra: Um guys? Dad’s downstairs. He wants to come up and talk to me about something. Has something happened?
Before I could check for a response, my intercom blared with its usual shrill tone. I hurried to the front door and glanced at the screen – there was my dad, as solemn and stoic as ever, dressed in a three-piece suit and a black peacoat.
I buzzed him in and dashed to my bedroom, swapping my slinky black robe for a thicker, borg-textured oversized one. Living on the fifteenth floor gave me a couple of minutes before he reached my flat – just enough time to brace myself.
I served up my boiled egg and slightly undercooked sausage breakfast before heading to the door to let him in.
As I opened the door, I was greeted with a wall of the Tom Ford Ombre Leather cologne that I’d bought my dad for his birthday a couple of years ago.
He stood there, solemn and somewhat morose, as if carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
The moment he stepped into my flat, he made a beeline for the kitchen.
‘They’re not gonna ticket my car, are they, Cassandra? I parked in a resident spot. Actually, I won’t be here long, just wanted a quick chat.’
His words came out scattered, his mind seemingly juggling seventy different thoughts at once. I made my way to my breakfast and took a couple of bites before responding, intermittently checking my phone for any updates in the group chat.
‘Nah, you should be fine, it’s still pretty early.
Um, so … what’s brought about all this? You’re not dying, are you?
If so, can you update your will so Steve gets the house in Ghana?
I’m not ready to move there anytime soon, to be honest, haha.
’ My attempt at lightening the mood hung heavy in the air like a thick smog; normally he would laugh at my dry, awkward jokes but not this time.
‘Oh, so my daughter thinks she’s a comedian now, huh?
Very funny,’ he said quietly, his brow furrowing even further.
‘Can you make me a quick cup of tea please?’ Without hesitating, again as per Ghanaian ‘Oldest Daughter’ customs, I switched on the kettle and grabbed a mug as he sat down at the kitchen table, inhaling deeply upon impact.
He stared slowly from me to the open plan kitchen/living space, before staring silently at me again.
‘You’ve really made something of yourself, Cassandra.
It wasn’t the direction I wanted you to go in; if I had it my way, you’d be settled down with a nice man and a baby or two by now, but I’m proud of you regardless.
’ I let the sting of his last sentence wash over me as I poured the hot water into the mug, allowing the tea bag to steep.
As the eldest, it was always expected that I would follow in my father’s footsteps and pursue a career in law.
I ended up choosing a law course at uni, but by the middle of my second year, I realised my heart wasn’t fully in it, much to my parents’ dismay, anger and frustration.
Still, I finished my degree, but instead of practising law, I wound up doing several admin roles before eventually finding my way into the NHS, where I worked my way up to where I was now.
On a ￡45k-a-year salary I was doing all right for myself, but deep down, I always knew it was a huge disappointment for my dad.
Mind you, I had a whole other sibling who did not receive the same career pressures as I did, the double standard of it all.
‘Erm … OK, cheers, Dad, I appreciate it. What did you want to chat about?’ I mumbled, handing him his tea and going back to bites of my breakfast. I had about forty minutes before I had to start getting myself ready for work and needed him to get to the point.
‘Ahh man,’ he replied, making a grand gesture of holding his head in his hands as if in pain.
‘Have you heard from your mother lately?’ Of course.
Whatever this chat would be about, deep down I had the feeling that it would somehow revolve around Mum, the only woman he’d ever loved. I joined him at the kitchen table.
‘Yeah, I spoke to her last night. I’m gonna be seeing her over the weekend too. Why, what happened?’
Dad brought his eyes – sad and wistful – up to meet mine. And then he dropped the bombshell.
‘Did she tell you she was getting married to that guy?’
Ah. So that’s probably why she wanted to gather me and Steven round at her place this weekend. What an interesting turn of events. But more so …
‘Wait, how did you find out?’ I asked, trying not to look shocked.
I low-key found it hilarious that he kept referring to Femi as ‘that guy’, even though, a long time ago, he fully made it his business to be aware of his name, age, and job title.
Dad turned to take another sip of his tea – no doubt using the delay to think of an excuse.
My dad working at one of the top law firms in the UK meant he was used to acquiring the types of access to and information on people that your average person off the street wouldn’t have.
That wasn’t to say that he acquired this information through nefarious means but …
you never knew when it came to this man.
‘Uncle Kwabena called me last night,’ he said, referring to a mutual friend of both my parents who we affectionately called ‘Uncle’ growing up. ‘Apparently he proposed a few days ago and your mum said yes and has started telling people. I can’t believe it.’
This definitely wasn’t how I wanted to learn about my mum’s upcoming wedding, and I was pretty pissed off that he had deliberately ruined the surprise for me. Honestly, I was just frustrated that Steve and I kept getting caught in the middle of whatever one-sided grudge he had against Mum.
‘Well, I didn’t know that, and it’s a shame I couldn’t hear it from her directly,’ I said, glancing at the time.
After a few more bites, I took my plate to the sink.
‘I’m happy for her, she deserves a happy ending—’ I caught myself after seeing the pained look on my dad’s face ‘—not that you didn’t make her happy, of course, but …
ehh … you know what I mean,’ I continued as I leaned on the counter to look down at him.
He genuinely looked heartbroken, but there was nothing I could do; he had to bear the consequences of being a bad husband and a bit of a shit dad, I supposed.
‘It’s OK,’ he said, defeated as he took another sip of tea.
‘I guess I just always thought that one day … after some time has passed … she would want to reconsider us getting back together at some point. We’re both old and no one wants to be alone in their old age, especially with you and Steven all grown up and living your own lives now. ’
As much as I wanted to tell him that he was the architect of his own undoing, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy at times; he had been pining over my mum since their divorce, unable to move on or get over her at all; it was sweet, in a sense.
‘Well, Dad, I think even Stevie Wonder could see that THAT was never going to happen, no offence. You guys have been divorced for years and I would have thought that, in that time, you’d find someone else too!
You’re still young! You’re still hip!’ I popped the lapel on his very expensive tweed peacoat.
‘At the very least, you’re wealthy. I would have thought the women would be all over you.
’ At my last comment, he let out a guffaw, his chest heaving up and down frantically, almost as if he was going to have a coughing fit.
‘You this girl, you’re funny!’ he chortled, taking a final long sip of his beverage.
‘It’s improper to talk about these things with you, but I have had my fair share of dates here and there …
no one measures up to your mother though. She was the love of my life.’
I felt my heart melt there and then, knowing that if my mum had been around to hear that, she would have burst into fits of laughter before condescendingly consoling him while shading him at the same time.
If there was one thing my mum loved, she loved hearing about how much my dad regretted letting her go.
‘I hear ya, Dad, but maybe her getting married again can be the push you need to get yourself back out there and start dating again?’ I sat at the kitchen table opposite him as he turned to face me, his sad eyes searching for a resolution in mine.