Redemption's Recipe

I wouldn't say I hated my Dad because that would be too strong a word, but I know I nurtured deep resentment for him. For me, he was a sorry excuse for a Dad.

Some days I felt I was better off not having a dad than having him around because he made sure the father- daughter roles were reversed. Instead of being taken care of and protected by him, I had to be the one protecting him from being either beaten up to death or thrown into jail.

I had just recently rescued him from having one of his legs cut off by Femi, because apparently he thought Femi the best person to lend a huge sum from and get pickled, after basically selling everything we had, except an old pickup truck. Femi was a notorious mobster who had only accepted my plea to let him go because he fancied me and wouldn't stop asking me to be his girl.

My father had not always been like this. He was in fact, my favorite parent when mum was still alive. While mum was strict and domineering, Dad was the one I first told about my crush on Dito, the boy who gave me his water color palette because my parents couldn't afford to give out even the littlest sum for something they considered as trivial as a water color palette.

Even when my brother Evan was born, he still made me feel like I was his little princess and I'm sure if we were wealthy enough I'd certainly be his little princess. Which is why, even though he had become a shadow of himself and a terrible drunk. Unlike Evan, I couldn't just abandon him.

It all started when we lost our mum. He blamed himself every single day for being poor and unable to take care of his wife. I didn't blame him, I blamed the universe for not considering us worthy enough to be rich. I had always thought about how differently our lives would have turned out had we been rich. Mum would definitely still be here and I'll be somewhere studying to become a lawyer like I had always wanted.

My thoughts were interrupted by Evan who had just returned from where he worked as some security personnel in a thriving mall. Not a suitable job for my smart, intelligent brother, but at least it took care of most of the bills.

“He's drunk again?” Evan queried. “Yes.” “ You know you don't have to take care of him right? He's a grown man who is supposed to be taking care of us. If he has chosen to fail in his duties, the least you could do, is leave him alone to face whatever comes his way. You're not his wife!”

“You don't understand Evan, if something bad happened to him, I'll not forgive myself.”

“Okay then, suit yourself, I'm going to see Ada.” Ada was his girlfriend and judging by the amount of time they spent with each other, you could say they loved themselves.

I got up with a sigh and made to go inside. Tomorrow was my big day. I had finally managed to get an interview with a big company and I needed to make sure I was at my absolute best. Sitting outside and thinking through the night was certainly not going to help.

I peeped in my father's room to make sure he had not rolled off the bed, hopefully he would be sober enough to drive me to the interview tomorrow. I wished he would just go back to the way he was.

---

The loud buzz of my alarm woke me up as expected. I hurriedly did my chores while preparing food for both my Dad and brother. Both of them had the appetite of a horse and got extremely grumpy if they didn't wake up to food. Today was such a big day and I wasn't about to let negative testosterone ruin it.

“Daddy would you be able to drive me? I have an interview today and I don't want to be late,” I said as he emerged from his room.

He shot me a look and went inside, hopefully to get dressed. I double checked myself to make sure my appearance was on point, silently praying I aced the interview.

My father came out with a slight stagger and even though I asked many times, he still insisted he was not drunk, and groaned about how useless my constant questioning made him feel.
After taking about five excruciating minutes to start up the truck, we were finally on our way. I kept rehearsing through possible interview questions on my phone, and didn't lift my head up on time, to see my father was about to drive us into imminent disaster.

I had barely gotten over the shock of turning to see he was sleeping on wheels, before I saw darkness. The last thought running through my mind, ‘my interview.’
No pain, no preparation, just darkness.
I woke up two weeks later in what I would say was a rather comfortable hospital bed to see my father and brother arguing. My father wore an apologetic look alongside the cast on his shoulder while my brother scolded him.

“If you weren't drunk, she wouldn't have gotten into an accident. You think you're the only one who lost something when mom died? No! I lost my mother too, but that didn't turn me into an irresponsible drunk and you better pray she lives, because if she doesn't, I'm leaving your house and there'll be nobody to take care of your sorry excuse of a human being.”
“Guys what's going on?” I managed to speak. The burning in my throat was so painful.

I suddenly became aware of how painful everything was. It was like my whole body was on fire.
“Don't move, let me get the doctor” Evan said as he rushed out.

“Forgive me Lola. I know I've failed you. I'll change. I promise.” His eyes were teary and I just nodded with hopes that he meant every word that escaped his mouth because this wasn't the first time he had made such a promise.

We were discharged a week later, and I was required to come in thrice a week for checkup to gradually ease me off the wheelchair as I had sustained more fractures than my dad did. Thank goodness I didn't become permanently crippled.

True to his words, I saw a significant change in my father. He even got a job. He started acting more like his old self and I prayed he wouldn't have to return to the bosom of alcohol.

Evan was wheeling me into the house, after my last check up for the week when a very sweet aroma wafted through our noses.

“Wait, is that chicken potatoes?” I was already feeling cheery, because only mum made chicken potatoes. And her chicken potatoes were the absolute best, because she assumedly used a recipe, that she claimed was handed down from the long line of mothers in her family.
Dad came out from the kitchen, all sweaty.

“Oh, you guys are right on time. I made the family's favorite using your mum's recipe. It may not taste as good as your mum's, but it's eatable,” he grinned.

“Evan, wheel her to the table and come and help me in the kitchen.”
Even though Evan was still mad, I couldn't help but notice a hint of a smile.
Just maybe, things were turning around for the better.

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