CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I stared back at the man who was a reflection of Tim. Staggered backwards, clinging to the door for support. He reached me but I withdrew. Tim ran to the door to catch me before I made a thud to the ground.

Tim made sure I was okay before leaving me to confront our father, ”Mark, I think you have done enough damage. Just leave her alone please. She is in a volatile stage in her life right now and she doesn’t need her deadbeat parents to upset her world.”

Mark tried to reach for Tim, “S...Son...” but Tim retreated, “Don't! You ceased being our father the moment you left us alone to who knows where!

Sad, Mark hung his head and sighed. He lifted up his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, “Children, I am so sorry. I have no excuse. All I ask for is your forgiveness.”

Tim shook his head, “No, Mark! You cannot just waltz into our lives like that and expect us to smile and receive you with open arms. Maybe crappy nollywood made you think so but that is not how life works.”

Mark shook his head, “Son, I am sorry, I think I’ll just come another time.” He handed a business card to Tim, “Call me when you want to talk. If you need anything, just let me know. Please, I have to make it up to you.”

Five minutes later after Mark left, I sat, frozen, on the couch. It seemed like my life was a circus – a colourful mess. Tim sat beside me in silence, staring wearily at me like I was some China ware that would break anytime soon.

I smiled at him, “we have some heck of parents, don't we? Don't worry Tim. I’m okay, I hope you are too. Let us just put this behind us and try to be happy. We have a medal to win and some cash price.”

I had gone back to the TPO quarters before the commencement of the tedious exercise. Unsurprisingly, I was pumped up and active during the session. It was a way to vent and release the pent up anger, hurt and frustration.

“Wow! You okay?”, Bianca asked as we jogged. I shook my head however she was insistent.

“ No, you are not okay! ” she exclaimed. I shot her a dirty look to which she sighed, “Okay, roomie. I will not push it.” She hit my shoulders lightly, “ If you need someone to distract you, I’m your person. I might not be good at mushy but I can help to take your mind off it.”

“Catch you later, slowpoke!”, she ran ahead, leaving me behind.

We had a rigorous routine that left me sore. I had a long shower and got ready for the day. We had a social etiquette class. It was two hours long.

It was quite stressful listening to the professor ramble on about postures that were classy and elegant and those that weren't. She made us stand with a book on our heads and walk on a straight line. She also used a cane to straighten our chins whenever she deemed fit.

She also inspected our sitting postures critically. She was strict and difficult to please. Her standards were almost unattainable.

It became more awkward when she looked into my eyes and asked if I was Mara Dawson, Ann's daughter. She then proceeded to tell me the higher expectations she had of me. I took a deep breath to calm down.

After that awkward moment, the class ended, thankfully and I went to get myself a smoothie. As I was about to leave the counter, I heard Trixie behind me, “You really got the entire TPO in your palms. It must be so nice to be the daughter of the pageantry goddess.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her childish antics. I took a step forward but she dragged me back by my arm. I grabbed those fingers and pried them away from my arm.

She held my arm with her second hand as soon as the first was pried off. I blew some air in anger and twisted my hand in a bid to force her fingers off mine. She almost fell to the ground.

I roughly brushed past her but not without a warning. I sipped my smoothie and put on some music.

I got to my room about ten minutes later. Anya, Bianca and Leah were seated on my bed.

Confused, I asked, “What in Nebraska is going on here?” I put off my clothes and wore a tank top and shorts.

Anya pointed at some cake, “It’s yours. Take it!” It was a beautiful chocolate cake sitting on my drawer.

Suspicious, I asked, “Why am I getting cake?” Bianca snorted, “You’ve been acting like an ant crawled up your butt since you came back. It is obvious that you are under some stress. So, just have the cake. The less moody you are, the better this arrangement is. I can't have a moody roomie on my hand.”

Anya stood from the bed and walked towards me. She rubbed my back, “Sugar, just eat the cake and feel better, okay? You need the strength – emotional, physical and mental.”

She hugged me and I leaned into the embrace. She had a motherly aura. She was the sweetest soul I knew asides Tim. I suspected that she was a continental African. Sometimes, there was a tinge of some accent.

Leah even smiled at me. She was usually very quiet and reserved, always minding her business and staying neutral in conflicts.

I took a tour around the TPO with the guide of a handy map. It was fun exploring with music blasting in my earpods.

I entered the library. It was large and vast with books. I was captivated by books and pranced around in awe. I picked a book to read. I had skipped all pageantry related books. I needed a break from anything pageantry related. I would literally hit my head against the wall if I read any more pageantry books today.

I picked a book by Nigeria author, Feyi Aina – Ayanfe. It was mesmerising and heart wrenching. I also shed some tears at a point.

“It's quite an intense book, isn't it?” I heard a familiar voice speak. I looked behind me to see Leah. She was holding a book on personality and Disorders.

“You picked a psychology book.” I remarked. She nodded in affirmative, “I have always loved psychology.”

We, soon, settled into the silence, reading our books.