Surprised Visit: A Flash Fiction

Of all the days my mother could have come to visit me, she choose today.

My name is Ali, and at a young age my independent mother of 48 shipped me off to boarding school.

“It is where smart boys go to become smarter” was her reason.

I was smart alright. For I knew it was only an excuse to get me out of the way so she could date Mr. Andrew, the plumber who seemed to never completely fix the kitchen sink as it always breaks two days after mama calls him, and every time he tells her not to worry about paying.

I had caught him once when I was nine, whispering something into Mama’s ears, and the old woman was smiling sheepishly. The foolery!

Smart my ass! I was barely passing any of my classes at Bright Primary School. It couldn’t be possible, not when I always had people to play football with in school and at home. What time did I have to study? I have been busy since the day I was born.

Well, Mama’s mission to send me to boarding school was possible, only because she threatened that if I didn’t go, I wouldn’t get the PS5 Aunty Hauwa had promised me for my birthday that year.

The lies adults tell to manipulate children ought to be punishable with thirty strokes of koboko. If mama can beat me for lying about not knowing the whereabouts of the meat in the egusi soup, both she and Aunty Hauwa should be beaten for lying about that PS5.

Years after I was admitted into Federal Government Boarding School Kubwa, I had no PS5 to show for it, only scratches from the many races to the refectory or chapel or bathroom or classroom. At a point, I considered challenging Usain Bolt for his position as the fastest man alive, since I practiced every day, unwilling.

Now she dares come to my school without an invitation. It was not even visiting day for God’s sake!

But to her surprise, she was not the only one who needed people out of their way so they could fool around. While she had Andrew the plumber, I had Toby the richest.

Toby's parents were so rich his father was always made PTA chairman. In a pile of many poor people, it was only right the one with the most money had the most say.

“Why them bring you come this school sef?” I asked Toby once.

“No be that my wicked aunty? She go tell my mama say this school get discipline. Say before I commot them go fix my stubbornness”

“No be only” I chewed carelessly on the empty sachet of pure water in my hand.

Well, on the day my mother had come to visit without my consent, I went off the school premises on account of a family emergency.

Toby had gone home two days before on account of being sick. But before he left we had agreed to meet up at his place to play the PS6 he bought with his pocket money.

“Guy, how much be your pocket money sef?” I asked him when he brought the good news. PS6 was thirty thousand naira, so I had to ask.

“Which kind question be that? You go play abi you no go play?” He raised his voice in offense.

“I go play. Ah ah, calm down na” I teased him.

Isreal who had been with us at Toby's corner when we were making plans was my prime suspect when Toby's father who was always away on business trips suddenly came home, ripping us of the fun weekend he had planned for. He must have snitched on us when my busybody mother decided to pay her “smart” son a surprise visit in school. That should not be allowed in the first place, but trust adults not to see their flaws so long as a minor is also at fault.

“Who told you you could leave school any time you wanted?” My mother scolded me when Toby’s father returned us to school.

“I took permission from the principal” I responded grungily.

“To go for your grandfather's burial” the principal countered with angry defensive eyes shot at me.

“Your grandfather? Which of them? The one that died before you were born?” mama asked, her voice too high for someone who was also in the wrong for visiting a student on a non-visiting day.

“Yes”

“Oh, so you held another burial for him, eh?”

“No”

“So which burial did you go for Ali?”

Why did she shout my name for God’s sake? This woman would make me deaf before she found a man to give her a normal child or kill me with her yelling and I’d be the first child to die from their mother’s voice.

“I took permission from him,” I said, my face squeezed out of disgust and impatience for her display, and embarrassment I was trying to conceal.

“Eh? From who?” The principal now chipped in.

“Is not you. Ah!” I hissed at him, tired of his interfering with family matters.

“Who then, Ali?!”

I wished she would stop shouting and allow us to talk like adults, from the look of things, I was being more mature than she was, maintaining my cool.

“From Grandpa” I said.

“Eh?” Her face contour changed dramatically from an enranged woman to a confused one. Her eyes widened as though she was seeing a ghost.

“I told him since he didn't live long enough to be useful to me, he could still play a part as a dead man. So I...used him as…as an excuse…” I bit my tongue.

I was too fast. If I knew what was waiting for me, I would have not hurt my tongue, because what followed immediately felt like I was in the WWE ring with Tripple H, only it was my mother beating me to my death.

If I had known the price of using a dead person was death, I would have just told the principal I was going for my father's burial, after all, he was better off dead than alive, not caring about his family.