The Love we Desire

Mother never hated the fact that dad would call me, and we'd talk for minutes on the phone. In fact, she was cool with it. Once, he called, and I felt indecisive about picking his call up. She begged me to pick it up. In all honesty, I wanted him to have a piece of his own cake; same size, same bittersweet taste. Bitter on his part, sweet for me. About the sweetness, till date, I'm not exactly sure why. But on mother's part, insecurity never crept in. Dad, on the other hand was unexplainably insecure about the conversations I had with mother.

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"Why's she asking what you ate# this evening?" he'd ask.
It was some sort of competition, I like to think. A fruitless one. Why'd he try to win my heart like this? He should've known trying to win my heart effortlessly would do the magic.

My parents' marriage wasn't exactly as beautiful as the word itself is. At ten, I watched them split up. The arguments. The verbal attacks. The curses. The hurtful utterances. I couldn't decipher what they meant. I didn't feel bad at that time cause I was less concerned. When I felt the verbal brawl had reached its zenith, to ease my young mind off depression, I'd take my mother's phone to the guests' room to listen to songs. I vividly remember I liked R-Kelly at that time. His lyrics didn't appeal to me, at that time. I just liked the tempo, and the way he sounded. I liked his videos, too. I particularly liked trapped in the closet cause I was trapped in a closet of a failed, infertile union of two lost lovers.

Fast forward, they split up officially. We had to travel down to my mother's family house. There, she got to rearrange her life, again. Dad was supportive in ways he could, too. I grew up. I had this undying hatred for him. Not because I didn't grow up with him, but because I hated every passing moment I saw my young, beautiful mother stress her self out in a bid to see us contented with what life offered. On days I annoyed her, she'd make reference to my father, yelling, "follow your father o! Please, do not kill me." Those words pricked my heart. I felt like I had failed her. I thought she hated him, but boy, was I wrong.

The day he was going to be buried, I saw her cry uncontrollably. It wasn't a cry of a painful exit. It was way deeper. The depth of the tears and pain she felt mystifies me, still. There, and then, I learnt these.
1: Separation isn't hatred.
2: Sometimes, love never fades away.
3: Love is love, and nothing else best defines love.
4: Words spewed out of anger, in most cases, are defenseless walls built to validate your supposed hatred.
5: Asides jealousy, insecurity is also synonymous with love.

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