“What kind of example have you been setting? You come in here, talking about mistakes like you’re not this destructive hurricane.” Now the pain had risen to the surface, mingled with the anger, and it broke through into Kai’s voice, through the air.
“Watch your tongue, boy.”
“This is the first time you’re seeing me in four months. Four months, Dad. It only took you so long to find out what I was doing because you barely remembered you have a family here. You remembered that you were supposed to be playacting apologetic. Even before I only ever saw you when I went to Lagos and you were barely home then.”
His father cleared his throat. “Rubbish. I introduced you to my friends.”
“You’re introducing who you want me to be to them. You used to say, ‘This is my son Malakai, studying economics at Norchester. Did you know Norchester is one of the top universities for economics? Only reason he didn’t choose LSE is because of his girlfriend, Ama. Beautiful girl, daughter of Ekenna—my business partner. Yes, yes, we are building a legacy, o!’ You would invite me to dinner, but then it would end up being a dinner between myself and six of your friends, and you’d ignore me until you told me I needed to make an effort in Lagos. That it was my home, and so, at the weekend, I’d go off on my own exploring with some creatives I’ve connected with, and when I got back you’d yell at me, because ‘that is not what you should be doing, son! What will my friends think if they find out my son is gallivanting like an area boy?’” Malakai released a brisk, hollow chuckle. “Dad, what were you doing gallivanting like an area boy?”
“Olalekan!” I felt the glass bottles in my grip tremble a little at the thunder in his voice.
“Ah. ? ma binu, sir.” Malakai’s apology was a jaunty taunt. “Sir, who are you building for? Ehn? Daddy, tani? Who? Is it Muyiwa who barely knows you? Or Mum? The woman who I heard cry herself to sleep over you? It definitely ain’t me. Sending money is not enough, Dad. I am grateful, I am, and I am blessed, I know, and you work hard, I know, but it is not enough. Before I came to uni, I was Muyiwa’s dad. I was teaching him all the things you should have taught us.” Malakai’s voice was hoarse and I heard a loud thump as if he was slapping his chest. “Me! And I don’t even know if I’m doing it right. How am I supposed to know if I’m doing it right?” Malakai’s voice cracked and it reverberated through my chest. I realized my eyes were watering.
“You say I don’t understand what it’s like to lose a father. It doesn’t feel that way.”
I should have walked away. I couldn’t. It wasn’t a case of being nosy—this was none of my business, I knew that—but for some reason Malakai felt like he was my business, and even though he didn’t know I was there for him, I wanted to be.
When his father’s voice spoke, it was quiet and crackling, the menacing spark of fire in a sleeping house. A flicker with the potential to raze to the ground, to destroy. “I will pretend you didn’t say that. For your sake.”
Malakai’s laugh was dark and hollow, painful to hear, a cruel pastiche of his usual bellow that was dense with light. “You know what’s mad? I chose a business studies combination because after everything, everything, some small part of me thought that might make you happy. Ain’t that wild?”
His father cleared his throat into pungent quiet. “Malakai. I have paid for my errors—”
“How?”
“By allowing you to speak to me like I am your mate. But it is my job to make sure that you become a man.”
“I’m involved in a decision for my life for once. Ain’t that manly?”
“Being a man is about making stable decisions. This is reckless, frivolous, and indulgent. I’m worried you weren’t in your right mind when you made this decision.”
His father’s voice had barely risen a decibel, and yet it rung loud and clear, the words leaving his mouth like a salvo.
There was a silence that could slice through sinews.
“Yeah, you’re right, Dad. I guess the months I couldn’t get out of bed weren’t very manly.”
“Malakai, that’s not what I—”
“This decision helped make my mind right.” Malakai’s voice was quiet and ferocious, but still, I heard the break in it.
I didn’t need to see Malakai to see him. I should go. He didn’t need me. I knocked.
When Malakai opened his door, his eyes were glistening. I could see the effort he put into pulling the fragments of his face into something resembling casualness, affability. I wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to do that.