Everything felt different that morning. From the empty street, silent without the usual honking of horns and yelling of vendors. The air was filled with tension and it wasn't from the traffic. It was from a pain in his heart. A thought that gnawed at him like a bitter taste in his mouth. It was his daughter Ifeoma.
He checked his phone again; the three missed calls from his daughter were still visible on his screen. He had tried calling her back severally for the past hour but she wasn't answering. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this quiet.
“Damn traffic,” he muttered. Honked loudly to other motorists and slammed his hand hard on the steering wheel. He knew he had to get to her fast. For the past few days, Ifeoma hasn't been herself. Especially after her mother, his wife left without any reason. So he knew for Ifeoma not to be picking up, something was wrong. Something was off.
Finally, the traffic loosened up and he inched forward, bursting through the narrow streets with his legs pressed hard against the gas pedal. Swerving like a madman who just learned how to drive. He turned onto their street; he noticed the usual sound of children laughing and people shouting greetings was absent. A chill crawled up his spine.
He pulled up in front of his house and got out of his car. He didn't bother shutting his door as he rushed up the stairs.
He got to his apartment to find his door locked. He knocked, but there was no reply. He keyed the door and turned it open. Then he bathed into the room yelling,
“Ifeoma? Ifeoma?” He waited, listened, for her tiny voice. For her to come out of her hiding place and embrace him. But the only sound he could hear was his own echo and his own breath filling the empty hallway.
He was shivering. Fear gripped him so tight. She wasn’t in the living room. Neither was she in the kitchen either. He swallowed hard. Punched the wall and fell to the ground. Tightened.
Was she gone like her mother again? Has her mother come to take her away from him while he was away. She had left them because his business had hit a rock, and he had to settle for being a cab guy in their little city. She couldn't cope with cutting down on their lifestyle. She couldn't cope with trying to live according to their current pocket size. She could picture herself moving into a smaller apartment and the decrease in her monthly allowance.
One evening, he had gotten home to an empty house but just their daughter and a note.
"Sorry dear, but I can't cope with this life anymore. I believe I was made for a softer life. Good luck taking care of our daughter and finding your path again."
Ever since he had trained his daughter all alone. From her being a kid to teenage age. She had been his only priority in life and had made sure she didn't lack anything. But with all he did, his daughter still had the phobia that one day he might leave her just as her mother had done.
He stood up and walked to the door that led outside. His intention was to go find his daughter and bring her home. But as he got to the door, his heart stopped when he saw her stepping into the house, her cheeks dry with tear stains.
“Ifeoma…” He said as he quickly hugged her. “What’s happened? I've been calling. Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”
But she didn’t answer at first; she just kept crying, her cries echoing in their small, almost empty room. His chest tightened. He gently held her hands and looked into her eyes. His eyes searched hers.
“Ifeoma, dear, talk to me. What’s going on? Talk to me.”
She stared back at him with a tiny voice, barely above a whisper. She said, “When I called you did not answer. I was scared you wouldn’t come back… like Mama.” Her words hung in the air, heavy and cold.
He froze. Held her close again and pressed her gently to his chest. The silence stretched on for a while. As tears streamed down their eyes. He had always known there was a void between them that he couldn’t always fill. Even though he had tried hard to fill that void. Each day he heard her repeat the same word with so much fear in her voice, it made his chest ache.
“Hey, hey, darling…” he began, his voice cracking, “I’m always here. With you. I'm not going anywhere.” He reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly as a way to assure her he wasn't blabbing.
He closed his eyes for a moment and blamed himself for not taking her calls when she called. He had been so caught up in his taxi shifts, that he hadn’t noticed she was calling.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized. His voice whispered. "I'm sorry you felt that way."
“I ... I don’t want to be alone.”
"I’m here,” he said softly. “I’ll always be here. You’re not going to be alone. Not today. Not ever.”
Gradually, she pulled away from his grip and looked him in the eye. “Promise me, Dad. Promise.”
Chuka nodded and brushed down a lock of hair from her face. He held his right hand up and his left to his heart. “I promise."
She nodded. Then smiled and hugged him again.
"You know what, darling. Daddy's not going anywhere again today. It's me and you for the rest of the day." He added to lighten up her mood.
They held themselves close until. The world felt like theirs alone.
