“Decisions”

Third-person pov

Michael Adeleke, Nellie's father, had a habit of purging his belongings and replacing them with new ones. Michael decided that there was no need to keep anything related to his ex-wife in the house when Nellie was ten years old, a few years after his divorce, so he called the young girl and her brother to lend him a hand in cleaning them out; and during the process of cleaning, Nellie stumbled upon a specific piece of paper. At first, she considered throwing it away because that was what her father wanted and she couldn't read its contents; however, the boldly written word 'EKE' at the bottom of the letter piqued her interest.

Using the little knowledge she had gained from preschool—the last form of education she ever received—the little girl realized that the paper she had found was somehow connected to her mother, and so she took it with her and hid it away in the hopes that someday, someone would help her read its contents, as well as the letter serving as a reminder that she once had a mother named 'Eke.'

*****

Nellie's pov

Clutching tightly to a piece of paper in my hand, I would never have guessed that my string of bad luck would eventually lead me to the decision I was about to make.

After receiving an excessive amount of physical, emotional, and mental abuse from the man I thought loved me unconditionally, I finally realized that fighting to regain his affections was pointless; it was finally clear to me that his said 'love' had never existed for him; it had only existed in my childish mind; it was only a fraction of imagination gained from misread words and actions

As I wandered aimlessly through the busy and dusty streets of Lagos, as I had been doing for the past week, my mind kept replaying the scene with Sunny -just before I gave up my virginity to him; he was caring and the most amazing person I had ever met. Now he was a monster, and I was shattered.

Not being able to rely on Sunny had left me incredibly confused, with two extremely unpleasant options. I had hoped that he would somehow forgive and accept me back so that I wouldn't have to consider my next options, but since that didn't happen, I knew I had no choice but to confront them.

A sigh escaped my lips as I looked down at the piece of paper I'd been holding in my hands for who knows how long. I knew that no matter which path my decisions took me down, I'd still be confronted with my fears. And having that terrifying knowledge kept my mind on its toes all the time.

Recently, my mind and stomach were constantly competing with one another; as my mind continued to think, my stomach continued to lurch. I had hoped that the illness that had strangely become a part of my life, that was constantly causing me to vomit and tire easily, would go away in due time, but to my disappointment, it had lasted over two weeks and showed no signs of going away anytime soon. Could it be that my stepmother was correct when she accused me of being pregnant?

I knew the sensible thing to do was to seek medical assistance, but that was out of the question for me because I had barely saved enough money begging on the streets for my food, let alone any kind of medical service.

*****

"Are you all right, young lady?" When a woman driving by in her car noticed me emptying the little contents I had managed to store in my stomach by the side of the road, she came to a halt in surprise.

"Do you think you need to go to the hospital?" The woman called out once more, this time with much more concern in her voice. As the thought of medical bills plagued my mind, I quickly shook my head. Straightening up, I turned to the concerned woman peering through her lowered passenger window and began planning a way to get rid of her.

"I'm perfectly fine. I ate something rotten, that's all. I just got it out of my system, so don't worry." The woman didn't seem convinced, but she also didn't say anything; instead, she decided it would be nice to let her eyes wander around my entire form, as a police inspector would do with a crime suspect.

I knew what she was looking at because her eyes said it all, and they were making me uncomfortable. Dirty face, tangled hair, a faded-green short flay gown with tears and stains all over it, worn-out flip-flops on my chapped and dirty feet, a small nylon bag in my left hand, and a piece of paper clutched tightly in my right. With my appearance, I knew there was no way I could avoid being interrogated. The woman stepped out of her car and approached me slowly, as if I were an injured animal that would flee if she got too close. Perhaps I was.

"Young girl, are you lost? Do you need help finding your family?" I stared at the woman, my mind racing a thousand miles away. I had no idea she'd ask if I was lost. No one had ever cared or stopped to ask me if I needed any help since I got on the streets; most people I met just assumed I was a runaway maid, and some even went so far as to try to force me back to my mistress or master,' as they referred to it; but this lady was different. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I was finally in front of someone who appeared to be concerned about what happened to me.

As soon as a glimmer of hope appeared, it vanished as I remembered the burns I'd received from previous encounters with people. What if this woman's intentions were not what they appeared to be? What if she wasn't truly interested in assisting me? There was only one way to find out for sure, and it was now or never, so I had to make a choice.

After debating whether to return home or use the information on the piece of paper in my hand, I finally took a step forward, slowly extended my right hand to the woman, and quietly handed her the piece of paper. I watched her nervously as she opened and read the contents of the envelope. When she was finished, she looked at me and asked,

"Do you want me to take you to this address?"

My already large pupils dilated even more. I had hoped the letter had an address; I had secretly hoped to visit there someday, even though I had no idea how I would be received once there, but I still hoped. Taking it as a sign, I nodded, excited and nervous at the same time.

The woman, who was closely watching me, closed the gap between us and took my hand in hers, a smile lighting up her features. My lips curved into a small smile in response to her kind gesture. I couldn't believe she wasn't repulsed by holding my filthy hand as she led me to her neat car and asked me to get in. I gratefully complied.

My heart pounded in my chest as I sat in the front seats of a fancy car heading to my birth mother's address, as if it wanted to be freed from its cage. It was past time for me to face the truth. Now there was no turning back. I had no idea if the decision I had just made was correct or incorrect; all I knew was that I was on my way to find 'Eke,' my birth mother, and that the answers to all my questions would be provided once I arrived.