Saturday isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The ceremony is holding at Rich’s home and is said to start by ten, but mom and I get there thirty minutes early, in her car, to see if our help would be needed with something. It isn’t. The ceremony starts at exactly the proposed time, even though most of the guests aren’t around yet.
My father is one of the guests that haven’t come. He slept in the living room last night. I know because I was the first to wake up and I saw him take his blanket upstairs. He drove out afterwards before we even prayed. Mom doesn’t say a word about it. I don’t ask.
The ceremony isn’t an open casket ceremony, so I don’t get to see him one last time. I’m sad I don’t get to see him one more time, but I’m also glad. I’d have been uncontrollably emotional if I see him that way, maybe even more emotional than his family. I’ve only ever seen one dead person and that’s my father’s mother. I cried and cried for hours and had nightmares for weeks. Afterwards, my mom made it one of her life’s missions to ensure I never saw a dead body again. If this were an open casket ceremony, I’d have wanted to see him. But as Naomi put it, ‘You don’t always get what you want… but you get what you need.’ And this is what I need.
A short prayer session is done to start the ceremony. Everything else takes a little over an hour and we’re done. Only the officiating minister and family members and allowed to follow them to the place he’ll be buried. Mom and I go back home.
“I’m going to miss him,” I say when we get home, realizing I’m officially out of friends. Except maybe I can consider Naomi a friend.
We meet my father at home. After a while mom asks if he’s hungry, to which he answers that if she cared she’d have made sure he ate in the morning. I go to my room and fall asleep immediately. The rest of the day is basically uneventful, the tension between my mom and my dad, palpable. He still didn’t tell her where he went to. He probably doesn’t know what lie to tell now, the cheat.
I have to tell mom. I have to. I can’t bear the burden anymore.
Church the next day is interesting. Aside from the fact that for the first time in forever mom drives herself to church in her car while my father stays back home, the message and praises are wonderful even to someone that zones out as much as I do during service. Maybe it’s because I don’t zone out at all. The message isn’t in any way related to my personal problems, but a reminder about the end time. Hearing messages like this always makes me feel a certain type of fear, a fear that makes me want to do better.
When we get home we meet that my father has prepared a meal for us. He says it’s to apologize for his recent behavior. He says that work has been stressing him unnecessarily, that during the fundraising party it was work that called him and he got pissed before the end and that’s why he acted the way he did.
“I’m really sorry dear, and you too Danny. I’m sorry.”
“What about what you went to buy?” Mom asks and without waiting for an answer she heads upstairs and I follow after her. That afternoon she makes her own meal and that’s what I eat. Father doesn’t try to apologize anymore after that.
Monday comes like any other day recently, unannounced. It’s like you sleep on Sunday and wake up the next day but it takes a while before you realize that it’s Monday.
Max comes to meet me when he enters the class to ask how Rich’s burial went. “If you wanted to know how it went, you’d have been there,” I say, going to the assembly room even though the bell hasn’t been rung yet. The assembly room has returned to its original state. You wouldn’t know that a party was done here just three days ago.
I sit on one of the chairs and wait. The bell rings almost immediately and before long the hall gets flooded by hurrying students and bored teachers.
The usual assembly routine is carried out, but afterwards the principal takes the stage. He only does that when there’s something very important just any teacher can’t say. Maybe he wants to thank us for the money our parents gifted the school on Friday. But does he need a mic for that.
Just then I notice Naomi isn’t around. She’s having one of her off days apparently.
“Good morning students.”
“Good morning sir!” everyone roars. I’m too curious to answer.
“I’m here to speak to you on an issue I never thought I’d ever have to speak on in this school. But it seems the world is changing everywhere. We had a report about the immoral activities of one of our teachers towards students, but we didn’t believe it. That rumor was later confirmed to be true.” The crowd goes wild with whispers and murmurs, everyone trying to figure out which teacher it is. I do the same thing, only I do it inside of me. “Such immorality will not be tolerated in this school. So as of today Naomi Osahon is no longer one of our teachers.”
The rest of the principal’s speech is drowned by murmurs louder than a flowing river hitting rocks. My mind involuntarily drowns out the noise, leaving only the booming of the principal’s voice on the PA system. Even at that I only hear a few words.
“Let this be a lesson to other teachers… will not be tolerated… The administration is deeply ashamed… and to the students… don’t be afraid… we will protect you, but we won’t know to do so if you don’t come to us…” After that I don’t hear anything else.
After we’re dismissed I remain, unable to move. She’s gone.
Ebuka taps my shoulder and informs me that the principal wants to see me. It takes a while before I process the message and leave the hall.
“Sit down,” the principal says when I enter into his office. I do. “Do you know what this is about?”
I swallow… hard. “Miss. Osahon I’m guessing.”
“Correct. I want to know why you never reported her.”
“Why would I report her?”
“There’s no need to hide anymore, Dan. You can talk to me.”
“Talk to you about what exactly?”
“Well how about the fact that she was harassing you, preying on your innocence?”
If I wasn’t so sad, I’d laugh. She’s gone. “What gave you that idea? She did no such thing.” I want to tell him that I was the one who harassed her, but that would only make him very much convinced that I’m covering for her. “She was my teacher and my tutor, nothing more.”
The principal intertwines his fingers and places them under his jaw. “One of our teachers saw this happen after a report had been made.”
“What he saw was a teacher being there for her grieving student. I lost my best friend and she was the only one from this school that acted like they gave a damn.” This is so annoying. “Why am I here, sir? You’ve already made your decision and fired her, why are you asking me this now, why not before firing her?”
“You’re here because I need a full account…”
“You should’ve asked for a full account before taking any actions.” I’m tearing up now.
“We don’t condone any such behaviors.”
“There were no such behaviors! Excuse me, sir.” I leave without warning. I hear him shouting ‘Come back here!’ as I shut the door.