The phone call brought her out of a light doze. “Hi mommy.”
“Where are you?”
“Almost getting to Isiagu.”
“Good. Come straight to the hospital so we can all go home together.”
“Okay, mom.” The line went dead.
She stuck the earpiece into her ears and hard jazz filled her brain, drowning the sound of the traffic. She closed her eyes and placed her head on the headrest. Moments later, she dozed off.
Her mother had called earlier telling her that her father would be discharged later in that day. It was the best news she had heard in months and with the contract underway, she felt more confident. Therefore, despite her tight schedule, she decided to visit home.
“Orie Ugba, Junction, College,” the conductor reeled out the names of the bus-stop as the bus cruised along.
She snapped out of her light doze and picked up her bag. “Junction dey.”
Minutes later, the bus came to a stop and she jumped down. From there, she took a bike to the hospital. It was an old hospital, and the walls and painting were falling apart and turning grey due to old age and lack of maintenance. As she made her way to the ward, the smell of drugs and sorry faces of patients loitering at the OPD and veranda, hit her. She said ‘hi’ to a few and waved to others. Her dad was sitting up in bed, supported with pillows and looking frail in his blue hospital gown and her mother was reading ‘The Mirror,’ her favorite Christian magazine. Her face lit up when she saw her.
“Oh, my baby,” she cried and hugged her. “Hope you had a nice trip?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Thank God.”
She turned to her dad. “Hi Daddy,” she said, taking his hand. “How are you doing?”
He coughed lightly and tried to raise his head. “Better every day.”
She looked him over. He looked pale and skinny and the hair on his head was fast turning grey.“Thank God you are okay,”
He smiled wanly and tried to say something, but choked.
Her mother went for a glass of water. “Do you need water?”
He coughed again and nodded.
She helped him to the water.
“Thank-k you,” he coughed again.
“We are waiting for the doctor,” her mom explained.“He should be here any minute.”
“Okay, mom,” she nodded and scanned the room; everything had been packed and ready.
“Maya won the first prize in a singing competition,” her mother said. “We are waiting for you to get well so we can celebrate it.”
He eyed her with admiration.
“I have also been awarded a contract.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes. “A contract? What sort of contract is that?”
“A recording contract.”
Her eyes narrowed further. “I don’t understand?”
“Mommy, I really think it’s a good idea and the money could go a long way.”
Her father coughed. “Do you mean someone wants to sign you on?”
“Exactly, Dad.”
Her mother shook her head. “I don’t feel comfortable with the idea.”
Maya knew whenever she takes that stand, she was difficult to convince. “Please, Mom.”
“I … I don’t see what is wrong with the … the idea,” her father said. “But… but I think the timing is wrong?”
She caught her breath. “What do you mean, dad?”
“It would have been a great idea if you graduate first or if you have a ‘meal ticket,’” he paused. “Besides, you’ll be emotionally more stable to handle success and the attendant popularity and problems that inevitably come with it.”
She did not say anything or counteract that.
“Your dad is right. Listen to him.”
However, she refused to see reason with her parents or with anyone else. Her mind was made up, and there was no going back. Therefore, to reassure them, she fed them the same excuse Bob had fed her. “Mom, imagine what it would be like for those who cannot come to my crusades, those who can’t watch me perform live, those in faraway cities to partake in my ministry.”
“Are you sure you’re not being bamboozled by societal pressure, my love? Are you sure you are not going into it for the money.”
“No, mom. “Not, at all.”
“How do you hope to coordinate rehearsals, academic pursuit and fellowship with God?” her daddy wanted to know. “Do you think you can cope?”
“Yes, dad. That wouldn’t be a problem.”
After a long hesitation, he said. “Well, if you insist, you will have to be careful, wouldn’t you? Always remember to put God first in everything you do.”
“I will, Dad. I promise I will,” she promised.
One good thing about her father and which has, over the years, endeared her to him and which she respects, was his regard for everyone’s opinions. He acts more or less like a coach and does not like bossing or pressurizing people into making decisions against their will. He prefers roundtable discussions or talking things over. She knew the idea hadn’t gone down well with him and that he succumbed just to please her.
Her mom stood up. “I’d better get the doctor.”