I was already nervous when I walked into my room. The weight of the past events hadn’t been shunned. Nervous, a bunch of nerves, on my nerves, whatever you would like to call it, that was me. There was a sense of uneasiness and restlessness as I made my way into my room. It was cleaner than before, not something I was used to. Surely, mother should have put things in their place. Well, good for me, I thought. I was planning to clean it, but I knew that I would never implement the plan. That was the daily struggle of being a 22 year old something. I sat on my chair and enjoyed the view of a clean room. No untidy blankets on my bed, no clothes that needed to be put to wash, no wrappers of chocolates and boxes of food that still needed to be thrashed from 5 months ago. It was nice to see things clean every now and then. We must surely thank the gods for giving us such caring mothers. I finally relaxed, spinning my chair in every direction, if it could be directional.
As I sat there, what could only be described as ‘chilling’ in the modern lingo, I figured that it would be the only way to describe what i was doing. I was nostalgic of all my shenanigans and also came to realize that I should dispose a box of condoms I had in my drawer. If I was to use them again, I should be able to buy new ones, having them at home, unattended was certainly a risky scenario.
I get up from the chair and walk to the drawer, open it …. its empty! I stare at the void its absence had created, similar to the void in my train of thoughts that I was experiencing. This could mean one thing and one thing only. During her cleansing endeavors, mother had found the box and it meant that she was going to report this to dad. Being a child who still hadn’t let his parents realize that I was sexually active, that I really was an adult, that I still haven’t had ‘the talk’!
It is time, I guessed. I sat frozen on my ‘throne’ as I used to call the black chair. Every end of my nerve alert, on a radar for any conversation that would happen between my parents and as to when I would be summoned for my trial. Seconds turn into minutes and minutes into hours. I hadn’t moved my body a bit, if there was someone looking at me, observing me, analyzing me, they might have as well as thought of me to be dead. As the dreaded hour dawned near, my immobility increased. It was night fall, time for my parents to retire into their room. Definitely the time for their conversation. Certainly my doom, I thought.
I hear their footsteps as they walk into their room, I hear them shutting the door, turning on the air conditioner, the hum of the air conditioner. I cling on to try and grasp any word I could hear, any hint on my fate and what was to happen. To my dismay, since the door was shut, I couldn’t hear anything. I waited fifteen more minutes and finally had the courage to sneak up and press my ear to their door. Probably the worst place to be if I was called for, or even if they decide to open the door.
“How was the dinner?” Mother asks. “I am still hungry, could have gone for something sweet.” my father responded. I sat there, counting the 11th hour tick its tock. “I had something to tell you … about your son.” My mother speaks. “I could feel a lump in my throat, I just couldn’t swallow it. “Hmm, what has he been unto now?” Father asks calmly. Mother continues: “I was cleaning and arranging his belongings, and I found a box.” “A box of?” Father responds, curiosity being evident. “You know … A box of condoms…” She concludes.
I felt my heart exploding. Every possible reaction crossed my mind; my name being screamed in rage, him walking out of the bed, furious and taking my case. Him wanting to talk to my ex, having a long ass lesson lectured upon responsibility. Mother, talking to me about maintaining my status and being respectful of women. Father and mother giving me an unwanted talk. Me getting beaten up, for my own good. My thoughts even extended to the worst of thoughts, perhaps I would be disowned, maybe I would be forced to marry my ex, plausibly being looked down upon. All of my worst nightmares, along with the numerous shenanigans of mine rushed into my brain, all at once. I was almost prepared to kill myself or run away right away. Fear kept me where I was, stunned and a ball of nerves. I needed the silence to break, and even though it had been just a couple of seconds since my mother had revealed my guilty pleasures to my father, it felt like eons and centuries had passed and I had already lived through the 7 hells, which was saying something since I was an atheist, or agnostic, at that moment, it really didn’t matter. I waited and waited and waited for a moment that would never end.
“Well, I am glad that at the very least he is using it … I don’t have the slightest intentions of becoming a grandfather anytime soon!” my father casually told her.
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