The family is small. Father. Mother. Child.
But in the smallness of his family, Kelvin found an entire universe. A whole wide world with lots of safety nets. A world where he gets the best of advice, with unending freedom to act on the things he learns.
A loving father. A doting mother. A home blooming with smiles all day long.
“No Kelvin, you can’t see this movie.” His father says with the characteristic smile that always leads the family on a rollercoaster of happiness. “It’s not for kids below 13 years of age.”
Mother laughs from where she is settling food on the table. A hot Sunday afternoon blessed with the heavenly aroma of the day’s register meal – Jollof rice. Soon, the notes of the movie’s intro music fill the room. Dancing around like a cartoon motion picture where music notes leap away from the pages of a music book. The tick-tock sound of the wall clock becomes a metronome somewhere deep in the background. The symphony of sounds and atomic aromatic particles leaps father to his feet. Swirling. Turning. Rising. Falling.
Plie. Releve. Saute.
“Daddy! You are dancing like a ballerina.” Kelvin says aloud, happily, flapping his hands in the air waiting for a carry.
“Yes, my son,” Father says with a happy voice, lifting the little one-off ground. His agbada continues to flow, swimming through the air at a constantly increasing circumference in the large living room. He will take the family to the park soon, so he didn’t undress since returning home from church.
The dance goes on for a few more minutes. Joyful feasting on mother’s delicacy follows. Tired and heavy; father falls asleep on the couch.
With his little 7 years old fingers, Kelvin pushes and nudges his father. Wake up, daddy. Wake up.
“Daddy, I want to ask you something.” The little boy continues to say.
The fairly loud dialogue continues on the large curved television. A change of scene sees Kelvin return from the store holding a nail in one hand, and a hammer in another. Against his father’s head, he places the nail. And in one drag through the air, he swings the hammer against the nail. A hit that drives the nail through the father’s…
Blood slaps against the young boy’s face. Father shouts awake.
“What did you do?” mother shrieks, coming back out into the living room. She surges to the scene.
Blood. More blood. Nail in the head. Blood. Mother’s tears. Father’s pain.
It is a surface wound. Iron nail. Rubber hammer. Father is safe. Mother gently removes the nail that pricked through father’s skin. First aid. Blood control.
Kelvin continues to tear. Cries. More cries.
Father’s first aid is complete. The time for questioning is now. Kelvin’s tears soon stop.
“Why did you hit your father with the nail?”
Kelvin points. The movie. Father rewinds it through several scenes.
There it is. The character’s statement.
“Yes, I am your father. But I’m also responsible for the livelihood of 3500 people. If you want to talk to me, always hit the nail on the head. Don’t beat around the bush…”
The End.