March 11, 2019

By the time Mom decided we should bolt from Nigeria, Dad had already vanished from our lives. Poof. Gone. It's like he couldn't bear the sight of me anymore. Always hollering and losing his cool, especially when I got caught in the crossfire or when he laid hands on Mom.

She endured all that hatred on account of me, but did it ever soften her stance? Nah. Didn't make a dent. Even when we left our crib behind, I held onto a flicker of hope that things might improve between us. You know, a change of scenery can work wonders, right? Well, it flopped. Mom despised me back then, she still does now, and it feels like she'll hold onto that grudge till the end of time.

I'll never forget how everything went further downhill after we landed here. Picture this: we were strolling down Vermont Avenue when I tripped over a dumb rock. And man, Mom lost her marbles. She yanked me through that buzzing street, going bonkers like there was no tomorrow. "Can't you do anything right?" she bellowed, as if I were the galaxy's biggest failure.

Vermont Avenue was a beast of a place, swallowing you whole. The vibes were off the charts, with a wild crowd that seemed to have a life of its own. Folks from all walks of life hustled around—It was a whole dang world, much like Mom, who had an appointment at the old people's home that morning.

Just two weeks prior to that wild day, we were crashing at Mom's friend's pad. But that friend, for some reason, was hell-bent on sending us back to Nigeria. So, we were left with a choice: either crawl back or slip outta her crib in the dead of night. We went with option two, constantly on the move as Mom scoured every nook and cranny for a job.

Ugh, she hissed like a snake, all venomous and stuff. "Always disorganized," she spat out. "You manage to screw up even the simplest things."

Finally, after what felt like a freaking eternity of walking, we arrived at Abbey Brooks Retirement Home. Little did I know that this moment would change our lives forever. For Mom, things were about to get better, but for me? Well, let's just say it triggered a domino effect of crazy events.

And then I saw her—Mrs. Carter. She was drop-dead stunning, like she stepped right out of a freaking fashion magazine. Rocking a perfectly fitted butter-colored low-neck shirt, a beige skirt, and killer brown stilettos, she had this fancy-ass purse that looked like it cost a fortune.

It's like she knew I was watching, 'cause her light-brown eyes locked with mine, and this soft smile spread across her face. She glided past us, all graceful and shit, until her clumsy moment happened. She opened her purse, and her damn debit card slipped right through her fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

"Hey, remember," Mom barked, snapping me out of my Mrs. Carter daydream. "Once we're inside, don't you dare screw things up for me. Just sit your ass down, read or do whatever the hell you usually do. Don't ruin this for me."

As soon as Mom let go of my arm, I moved lightning fast and grabbed the damn debit card. And guess whose name was printed on it? "Moyosore Carter."

"Ma!" I called out, turning to find Mrs. Carter chilling next to a slick white ride, yakking away on her phone. "Ma!" I said again, cautiously making my way toward her. For a brief moment, she stopped her wild hand gestures and glanced my way.

"Hey, you dropped your card."

She clenched her fists, her face all twisted up with anger or who knows what. But then, like a lightning-fast switch, her expression turned into this giant grin, and she thanked me as if I were some sort of freaking angel.

"Thanks a ton. You're a total lifesaver," she gushed, giving my shoulder a friendly pat before refocusing on the phone call. "Catch you later, Ayo," she declared, ending the conversation with a bang.

"Seriously, thank you so much," she repeated, her voice dripping with genuine gratitude.

Matching her smile, I shot back, "No problem, ma'am."

Without skipping a beat, she shoved the card into her purse, her eyes locking onto mine with curiosity sparking in them. "So, you're Nigerian, right?" she probed, picking up on my accent.

"Yep, you got it, ma'am," I confirmed, letting her in on the fact that I had tagged along with Mom for her job appointment. That tidbit only seemed to crank up her interest even more.

"Well, isn't that something," she commented, reaching out for a solid handshake. I clasped her hand, our palms connecting for a brief moment. "I've got two sons your age. Tell your mom that you totally saved my day, will ya?" Mrs. Carter asked, gratitude coating her words. With that, she handed me her business card and made it clear that we should never hesitate to reach out if we needed a hand.

Little did I know that this very day would be the spark that set off a chain reaction of life-altering events. Things were smooth sailing for over a year after that, but as I've said, I'm a firm believer in how one thing leads to another. Meeting Mrs. Carter turned out to be a major game-changer in my life. She was like that one domino that set off a whole crazy cascade of events.

I met her—a seemingly nice lady—and that chance encounter became the catalyst for all the wild twists and turns that followed. Despite my gratitude toward her, deep down, I couldn't help but wish I had never picked up that darn debit card.