My mom called me one evening, crying on the phone. My heart stopped beating. I thought my dad was dead. For several seconds, she couldn’t utter a word. When she finally put herself together, she told me, “Your father has a child with another woman. I just found out this morning.”

And then she went back to sobbing. I was relieved to know my dad wasn’t dead, but I also felt terrible, knowing my dad could do this to my mom after all these years of marriage. I waited patiently to hear what my mom was going to say, whether she was going to divorce my dad or not. She ranted and ranted for several minutes. She didn’t mention divorce.

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She was scared about our future, that one day, kids from nowhere would spring up to fight with us over my dad’s property. I asked if my dad had apologized. I asked if she was going to forgive. She asked me to come home over the weekend because all my other siblings were coming to address the issue.

We are four. I’m the last born and also the only woman among my siblings. My mom has become my friend over the years, and she told me everything, including how to choose a boyfriend. I remember she told me one day that I should choose a man who had my father’s traits. I was in the university, but everything that happened in the house, my mom called to tell me. My dad has always been an exceptional man. I think that was the reason my mom felt crushed.

We went home. My mom narrated a very long story about how she found out and also how she had known that woman long ago and had asked my dad about their relationship. When it got to my dad’s turn to speak, he apologized for his indiscretion. He said he was even happy that the truth came out because for five years, he had carried that burden and it was weighing on him.

He apologized to us and asked us to help him apologize to my mom. When we did, my mom screamed, “I’m not looking for apologies. I want answers. Where does that child sit when it comes to the properties we’ve toiled to have together? Will he pop up one day and ask for his share?”

My dad answered, “I’m not dead yet. I’ll take care of that before the time comes.”

“What if you die tomorrow?” my mom retorted. I nearly laughed. “You better do it quickly before the time comes.”

My dad asked if my mom was going to kill him, and it turned into heated exchanges.

We left the house fractured, but I was very hopeful they were old enough to resolve their problems. Their marriage never worked as it used to. I could feel the tension between them when I was home. My mom had to bring someone to live with them so it would reduce her interactions with my dad.

They sauntered along for five years until my mom called for a divorce. My brothers were very happy about the news of the divorce because they were tired. My mom accused them every day of being on my dad’s side anytime she went to complain to them. My ears went numb. My mom called me more often than my boyfriend did, and the calls lasted longer than the longest call I would have with my boyfriend all week.

If my dad sent money to the child and his mom, my mom would get crushed and complain all day, saying my dad was giving all his money to his illegitimate child. Meanwhile, there was enough for her in the house. Yes, Dad made a huge mistake, but he didn’t deserve some of the things my mom said and did to him. Everyone welcomed their divorce except me. I was used to seeing them together.

My elder siblings had left home long ago, but I was with them, learning from them and enjoying the warmth under the shade their existence together created. But my dad had to leave the house for my mom after the divorce. He went to live in one of the houses he built for rent.

If I visited him and decided to stay the night, my mom would be angry. She would call my brothers and rant to them that I was choosing my dad’s side. If I was with her and my dad called and she saw me laughing on the phone, she got angry. “Why are you laughing with the man who caused this family great pain?”

It was hard for me, but I managed until I completed school and was posted to do my service. I knew I was going to have peace away from home and would be able to talk to any of them without being judged.

But a few months after I left, Mom’s health suffered, and she had to have a very scary surgery. She didn’t want to do it. She was scared she would not make it. Doctors had to push her, and we had to convince her she would be fine before she did it.

At the hospital, my dad visited. She saw my dad and frowned immediately. Every question my dad asked was met with coldness. My dad stood quietly and watched her. My mom was in bed, trying all she could to avoid engaging with my dad.

My dad visited every day. He would help her take her drugs, and slowly, my mom welcomed those gestures. When she was discharged, I had to go back to my service station. My dad said, “No problem. I’ll stay and take care of her until she gets someone to help.”

They’d been divorced for over three years. My brothers advised him against it. We felt it was going to be a disaster, but surprisingly, my mom didn’t object. All she said was someone was coming from home to help her.

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It’s been over two months, and that person hasn’t arrived. My dad is still with my mom. The last time I was home, I could see my dad’s things slowly filling up the empty spaces. His car sits in the garage, his suitcases are on top of the wardrobe, and his shoes are filling up the rack. But the question on our lips is, “Are they getting married again?”

My elder brother wrote in our WhatsApp group, “No one should ask them anything. Let’s see how this goes.”

My other brother added, “At least, Mom is no longer accusing anyone of choosing sides. She’s the one choosing sides now.”

I sent laughing emojis, hoping this new friendship they’ve found would carry them through these final days they have left on earth. At least, we have peace, and I hope they have the same too.

—Edith     

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