Every Sunday call, she would ask. Every visit, there would be hints about "settling down." Every family gathering, aunties with their knowing looks.
So I made one up.
His name was Dayo. He worked in banking. He was "very serious" but "we were taking our time." I gave him just enough detail to seem real but not enough that she could demand to meet him.
For two years, Dayo existed. I described his car. I mentioned things he "said." At Christmas I told her we had a small disagreement but were working through it.
Last year she asked me to bring him for Easter. I sat in my car outside her house for twenty minutes before I went in and told her the truth.
She didn't shout. She just looked at me and said, "Ada, why did you think you needed to lie to me?"
And I cried because the honest answer was: because I was ashamed of not having what you seemed to want for me. And I did not want to disappoint you.
She held me for a long time. Then she said, "My daughter, I want you to be happy. Not just to have somebody."
I wish I had told her sooner.
So I made one up.
His name was Dayo. He worked in banking. He was "very serious" but "we were taking our time." I gave him just enough detail to seem real but not enough that she could demand to meet him.
For two years, Dayo existed. I described his car. I mentioned things he "said." At Christmas I told her we had a small disagreement but were working through it.
Last year she asked me to bring him for Easter. I sat in my car outside her house for twenty minutes before I went in and told her the truth.
She didn't shout. She just looked at me and said, "Ada, why did you think you needed to lie to me?"
And I cried because the honest answer was: because I was ashamed of not having what you seemed to want for me. And I did not want to disappoint you.
She held me for a long time. Then she said, "My daughter, I want you to be happy. Not just to have somebody."
I wish I had told her sooner.
Comments
36Join the conversation anonymously
Login to Comment