Hair

Read the first part here: The Day I Let My Hair Down

“I am so sorry. He made me do another tape with him”.

***

I froze in the chair. The bottles of wine I had savoured to the point of feeling tipsy suddenly gushed out of me in sweat beads that formed on my forehead. I knew the voice and it sent chills down my spine to the soles of my feet; I could feel the floor get ice cold beneath them.

“Mom” the voice came again.

I tried to snap out of the shock but I couldn’t. My body had become unresponsive. My eyes were still glued to the television; I couldn’t take them off as hard as I tried.

Then silence. The longest silence I had ever felt.

I wondered what was going to happen next as I saw Dinah stand in front of me with tears running down her cheeks. She had moved to pick up the remote control and turned the television off.

Now what next? I asked myself.

“Say something,” a voice in my head said to me

“What should I say?” I asked back.

Before I could answer, Dinah moved forward, knelt down, held my hand and cried

“I’m sorry mom” she said

What was she sorry for? I wondered. Why was she crying? This is me in this gruesome video I just played. If anyone had to feel sorry and cry, it was me not her

I kept quiet. I kept quiet because as I watched my daughter cry, I realized I had to be quite. I had to shut every door of thoughts and words tightly before I ruined this moment. From all indications, she had a confession to make and I wasn’t about to ruin the chance to listen to a story I was entitled to as her mother. No. Not now.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It wasn’t my fault. He threatened to blackmail you, ruin our lives and your reputation and everything you’ve ever worked for,” Dinah finally managed to say.

“Who?” “Who are you talking about? What are you talking about? I meant to ask just one question but my emotions wouldn’t let me

Dinah got up, threw her hands up in the air, paced about the room in a frenzy as she continued to say sorry. Nothing else but sorry.

“Who?” I asked. Getting up and walking towards her to calm her down. “Who tried to blackmail you?” I asked again, as I wrapped my hands around her and led her back to the couch. “Talk to me Dinah. I’m your mother,” I coaxed her.

“Yes, you’re my mother. That’s why I did what I did. I watched you every day work tirelessly just to keep up with the demands of my fees. I watched you juggle everything, work, housekeeping, my upbringing, school… Just to build a good life for me. You were more than just a mother, you were everything to me and my love for you just wouldn’t allow me watch everything you’ve worked for go down the drain. Mom, I love you”

“Baby I love you too. Now will you tell me who you’re talking about and what he has to do with this video?”

Silence.

And then she changed gears into uncontrollable tears. I couldn’t help but shed some myself. I pulled her close to me, hugged her tight and we both cried for close to fifteen minutes.

“God, please take control” I prayed. It was all I could bring myself to say as my mind was filled with so many thoughts of whats, whys, whos, and hows.

Right before my eyes, right in the warmth of my embrace, my baby was shaking and crumbling down and I did not have answers.

“God please take control” I prayed again.

And in that instant. Dinah stopped crying, broke free from my arms, wiped her tears with back of her hands, blew and cleaned her nose into her dress, sat up looking so determined, breathed in hard and began to talk.

“Mom”

“Yes”

“I am so sorry. He made me do another tape with him”.

“God!” I exclaimed under my breath and held my head to keep it from exploding.

“That’s the only way he would give me this one. I have been in his debt since because he threatens to put the tape out if I refuse his advances. I have become a slave to him. He has turned me into a prostitute, mom. I am very sorry”.

These were still strange sayings to me. None of it made sense. Who had the tape? How did he get it and why was he blackmailing Dinah with it? Questions, damn questions and no answers.

Silence.

“Dinah, the suspense is killing me. Tell me, who is it?

At that, she raised her head to lock her eyeballs with mine.

“It’s Uncle Bobby”

“What? That bastard!”

***

This part was written by Akuvi Aguedze. Stanley Toddison will take it from here. 

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