As promised 🍕🍕

At first glance you'd think the noise had no effect on us but it was because of the noise that we were sat like statues staring at the TV like it had all the answers to our problems.

Mom would caste a glance at me from the other end of the sofa every once in a while and I would do same but there weren't any words spoken between us. Inside the visitor's room was a different case though. Marcel yelled out words that were quickly succeeded by Kunle's equally loud responses.

I didn't know what the fuss was about, never did know. My mom didn't seem to know as well, she appeared as oblivious as I was and neither of us felt brave enough to interfere. They went at it for a few more minutes as they usually did, voices rising and calming until they exhausted their will to stand each other's presence.

We heard the sound of the door slam before Kunle walked into the living room. He stared at us, let out a frustrated sigh before continuing to the room he shared with my mom. A minute later, he was out, dressed in baggy shorts and polo and out the door without a word.

He wasn't mad at us, I doubted he was mad at Marcel either,he just didn't like to sit around and brood. Mom was the first to return to her room, I spent a few minutes nursing an idea before I rose, went to my room and got changed.

I opened the door without knocking but it didn't matter, he had his earpiece on and didn't hear me. He was sat at the reading table facing the window, there was a slim book in front of him and as I moved closer, I saw that he was drawing. It was the skyline of a city and it was beautiful.

He sensed my presence and turned before I could intrude farther.

"You didn't knock". A smirk was dancing along his lips.
"How'd you know?"
"The music isn't that loud".
"Yet you didn't here me come in. Nice drawing". He looked at his work and shrugged.

This was my first time inside the room since the day I helped him move his things in. He didn't have as many stuff as you'd expect of a guy and the room was clean safe for half-finished drawings scattered around.

"I didn't know you draw".
"I don't. Just when I'm bored". He tried to play it down but there was no downplaying that talent.
"I know. Can't have everyone knowing that 'the' Marcel does something as nerdy as painting".
He turned his chair around so he could face me.
"Ehm, it's not nerdy and I don't paint, I draw".
"Big difference".
"Exactly".

He relaxed on the seat with a satisfied smile.
"So, how can I help you? Not that I don't appreciate the impromptu visit. Why are you not dressed as a housegirl? Are you going somewhere?" He crossed his arms and gave me a questioning stare.
"Yes we are. Get dressed".
"Where are we going?"

"Abike told me about one new place in Marian and I want to check it out".
"Chris told me about it. Domino's pizza?" I nodded.
"Go check it out then, why do I have to come?"
"Because you are a nice person and if you don't, I'll tell my mom it was you who drank the beer in the fridge, not your dad".

"I'm old enough to drink beer". He boasted
"Not under her roof". He sighed
"Fine, wait outside. I need to bath".
"Hurry up. Pig". I said while scrunching my nose.

       As expected of any newly opened hot-spot, Domino's pizza was crowded, mostly by groups of young adults who were more interested in taking pictures than eating. I found us a table that wasn't too open beside two girls who were making silly pouty faces at their phone. Marcel smiled widely when our large box of pizza arrived along with two cups of ice-cream.

"It's been so long I had pizza". He said as he tore out a slice while I sat there wondering how we were going to finish the entire box.
"What is this thing made of?" He stopped mid chew to look at me. "What?"
"You've never had pizza?" I shrugged.

"Oh my God. Come on, eat". He urged and I complied. He watched me expectantly as I savored the taste of the junk.
"First impression?"
"Not bad". I took another bite. "Not bad at all". He chuckled and returned to his second slice.

I kept taking bite after bite, watching the people around me enjoying the feel of the music playing somewhere. It wasn't until I realized that more than half of the once circle was gone that I noticed the bloating in my stomach and stopped. Marcel didn't stop until the box was empty.

"Free pizza and ice-cream? Why the special treatment browny?"
"Isn't it convenient that you are asking after eating?"
"At least I'm asking. Why did you bring me along?"
I couldn't help it, I gave him the look and his grin reduced to a small smile.

"You brought me here because you thought I was upset from arguing with my dad?" I stole a glance at him and saw that his smile was building up again.
"How sweet". He cooed and I threw my spoon at him.
I gave him time to stop laughing before I asked.
"What were you arguing about anyway? What are you always arguing about?"

"I don't know. It's never something relevant, he just likes getting in my business".
"I'll assume that is what fathers do".
He looked at me through his lashes.
"You wouldn't know?"
"Well, the closest interaction I had with my father was when he stabbed me, after murdering my grandmother so..."

"Jesus, that's dark". His face was crumpled in horror.
"Where is he now?"
"Somewhere murdering wicked grandmothers?"
He looked at me like I was under a microscope.
"It must have been hell to witness that. No wonder you are so..."
"Messed up?"
"I was going to say guarded but messed up will do"
I chucked his spoon at him.

"Seriously though. Messed up is like normal like, aren't we all messed up?"
"You think you are messed up because you have very heated arguments with your dad?"
He suddenly took an interest in his empty cup.
"I don't like arguing with him, it's just, I wish he'd let me be and not try so hard to be the father I no longer need".

I sensed a story coming on so I stayed quiet.

"I grew up in Ibadan, in a large family house where everyone called me an abomination because my mom died giving birth to me. My dad knew this but he was never there to stop them, he abandoned me in that place and moved on with his life. It wasn't until his mother said she could no longer feed my undeserving stomach that he came, bundled me and threw me in Apex so that he wouldn't have to see my face all the time".

He twirled a ring on his finger.
"You know, sometimes I blame my mom for dying, everyone always had nice things to say about her but I never miss her because the only thing she left behind for me was a stigma. Most times I blame myself because everyone can't be wrong, she died because of me, it had come down to her life or mine and she chose mine. I wouldn't give up my life for a life like this".

I sat there watching him because he was so open, even as it wasn't the prettiest sight, it was raw and it was sublime to see that he too could be vulnerable.

"Yeah, definitely messed up". I said and he barked out a laugh.
"At least now you don't feel so lonely". He stated and I smiled in agreement.
"Nice bonding, browny".
"The power of pizza".
"Still can't believe you never had pizza". I shrugged
"It's really not that big of a deal".

"Says the girl who ate half the box".
"Quarter! You are the bulldozer". He chuckled.
"Don't worry, I won't tell your mom you now eat for yourself and your unborn child".
"Shut up. The pity party is over so, let's go home".

          Kunle was home when we got back, curled up on the sofa with my mom as they watched 'My flatmates' on TV. They both turned towards us with smiling faces as we walked through the door.

"Where are you coming from?" He asked us both but his eyes were trained on Marcel who just stared back without responding.
"Domino's pizza". I supplied
"Pizza?" Mom joined in. "Good. I hope you are satisfied because I'm not cooking".
"Don't stress yourself aunty, Amanda ate an entire box".

Marcel moved past me towards his room but I managed to sway his forearm. I turned to my mom to protest but my eyes landed on Kunle who was staring at Marcel's retreating form. I wondered if he knew, if he could see the resentment his son harbored in his heart for him. I felt he knew and it was the reason he tried to be a better father and give Marcel a shot at having a mother figure in his life.

I was beginning to see what they saw, we were all different people, connected by blood and the cracks we left on each other's soul. Our parents hurting us with their abandonment and we doing same to them by merely being born. We could be perfect for each other, the silver lining in our clouds or we could be the force that crashed our broken pieces to dust.

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I might be gone for a while.
Don't hate me