The Bird by Oladejo Victor.

𝗦𝗛𝗘 was shaking violently, the bed was creaking. She was convulsing and her body was thrown forward as she did. She held unto me tightly and i clasped my hands around her shoulder. she was gasping for breath. My stomach churned , i felt a strong pain entangled with fear . i wanted to shout, but instead , air came. Then she was thrown forward again , this time her face was tightened with her eyebrows curving forward towards her forehead . she let out a shout and she fell back to the bed. She became still in the grip of death.

“mother “ was all i muttered. The ward was empty , we were alone in it. My body shook, the skin under my navel became hot. I tried to shout, to call for help , but it was too late, she wasn’t breathing. I became languid myself , i dragged myself to my chair which was by her bed all night. A wave of pain swept through my body and i became dizzy, i felt my spirit was living my body, darkness came , pitch darkness and silence.

The rays of light was on my face , i opened my left eye, everything was in a blur . i twitched .

“ Thank God he is alive”. I stared to the direction where the faint sound came from. I saw nothing except colours dragging around like jelly. I closed my eyes again and opened them slowly, the room became pellucid. Mrs Tunji, the nurse that was in charge of my mother . she sat on a blue chair. She smiled dryly at me , i didn’t smile back. She stood from her chair and walked to the bed i was on.

“ you fainted , sorry , your mother is dead, she is in the last ward. We met you on the floor this morning”.

I wasn’t surprised, i took grief like that often. I didn’t cry , i turned on my back and stared at the blue wall behind me. I didn’t think of my mother, i was dead also, something died in me.

During my mother’s funeral, my father came. He came along with my stepsisters and my stepmother. They wore black and held flowers in their hands. I felt paranoid standing close to them. I was burning with hate. My father was quiet and he had the expression the fuhrer had on his face on the cover of the history of Nazi Germany i read often. He sniffed and blew into his nose whenever our gaze cross. When the funeral was over , i rode in his car to my father’s house. When we got home my father came to the room i was staying. The words of comfort he said to nauseated me. I pretended to be listening, inwardly i felt like holding to his throat and choking him. He neglected me and my mother for a reason i didn’t know, all i knew was, they had a fight and he left. I visited him at his office whenever i needed anything and that was all, i didn’t know he had another family until the funeral. When l couldn’t sleep , i became introspective . i surfed through my thoughts about my mother. I wondered why she of all people died. I wondered why fate took away my voice . my voice was my hope and my hope was my mother. I was the happy and the singing bird until she died and my voice died when she went six feet into the earth.

All through my stay at my father’s house with my stepmother and my stepsisters, i lost taste of everything i loved and cherished while my mother was alive. I was much of an optimist while my mother was alive, always full of hope because of the priceless counsel from my mother. She had the advice to anything and a way of doing things right. So it all changed after her death. Life became meaningless . My father began to care for all of my needs and i never lacked anything but it changed nothing. I didn’t heal. In my bid to find solace i fell into bad company. I began to smoke and drink alcohol secretly with my new found friends. I continued on my new path till i got admitted to the university.

My stay at the university was uneventful , my drinking habit grew and i was an addictive smoker. I didn’t attend church often like i did with my pious mother while she was alive. I took my studies seriously but my voice didn’t return, i was hurting myself deliberately and i knew it. My relation with others suffered severely and the only person i related to was my room mate, Uche. Uche , a pious fellow, the last to sleep at night and the first to wake me up with his prayers was my room mate during my first year at the university. He was a person who won’t take no for an answer. He was the fellowship leader and he preached and gave me piece of advice anytime he got the chance . i was lost to my habit and nothing else made sense to me. I was depressed often. After a while i let my thought about my mother fade into oblivion but i never found my voice. My habit remained , nothing changed until my last year at the university. My habits had gone to it’s height, i missed classes and my grades fell. I went to the hospital and i was diagnosed with lung disease. I experienced fatigue and shortness of breath as a result of the disease. I came to my right senses but it was almost late. I went through several tests at the hospital and i used a lot of drugs. During the period of my disease the final examinations was fast approaching. I cried my eyes out and tried to study. The examination came and went , i received the result and i performed very low but i didn’t fail. The result and the lung disease was my transformation. After graduating from the university, With the real world before me i was determined to sing again , if not for myself, for my mother.