Intuition. I know it’s inbuilt in everyone but sometimes, I think it’s a sense that’s prevalent in women. That Spidey sense that goes beyond what we would call the sixth sense kicks in and we are able to decipher. To know. Sometimes we may choose to live in self-denial but when chaos strikes, we beat ourselves about it. Not because it happened but because we knew it would happen but chose to ignore it.
There was something that ticked when I walked into the house that day and saw the lanky man saying something so enthusiastically to Dad. And no, it wasn’t just because once I came in, he had his beady eyes trained on my chest and refused to look up from it even when I offered a greeting to him. Or even because I felt those disgusting beady eyes follow me like a needle to my back as I walked out of the parlour.
It was in his gesticulations. The look of desperation in those eyes as he tried frantically to convince Dad of something. I watched discreetly from the tinted glass doors for more than thirty minutes, feeling the heat rise in my chest and arms as I watched Dad shake his hand like something was decided.
Hours later, I felt my heart break as Dad droned on how genuine the guy looked and how sure that his proposed business deal would change our lives. I saw the kindness in his eyes and I almost freaked out. It was the look. That look of blind trust that had cost us so much in the past. And looked like it was about to be repeated. Mom had travelled. And she was usually the voice of reason in things like this. She couldn’t leave where she was going to rush back and save Dad from what I knew was impending doom.
And so I begged. And I mentioned how the heat spread in my tummy and the hairs at the back of my neck had been standing the entire time. And how the skin above my left eye kept twitching infinitesimally. All the signs that usually told me that something wrong was about to happen. Dad was adamant.
“There’s no reason he would want to lie to me. I’ve been good to him in the past. He wouldn’t hurt me. You’re just being paranoid.”
“But that’s it, Dad. Life isn’t like that. You’re the embodiment of kindness, but you’re heading for a collision course if you think that because you’re kind to people, they will be kind to you. Life doesn’t work like that.”
It felt so weird telling Dad that was several decades older than I was these things but he didn’t understand why anyone would be like that. And I understood that it was just in his nature to trust. But my Spidey senses had never failed me. It wasn’t going to start now. And so, Dad got quiet and I felt I’d succeeded.
I woke up one morning, a week later and knew something was amiss. That churning and queasiness in my stomach that spelt impending doom was at full blast. I barely donned my bathrobe as I raced out of my room and dashed outside like a woman possessed. I saw him handing the papers to Dad with a pen. And my world stilled. Slowing down to a painful halt as my mind worked in double time. I saw the law enforcement. I saw the house being seized. All manner of destruction before my mind's eye like a movie.
I was quiet for the longest of seconds. Then, I went ballistic. And made so much ruckus. Flaying my arms and displaying a lot of madness that I cringe a little about now. But whatever I did must have been done right. Dad didn’t sign the papers but the look he gave me after I’d “calmed down” was that of gross disappointment. And for a moment, I worried that I may have caused us something huge.
Dad was still silent. And then Mum came back and I didn’t have the heart to tell her what I may have caused the family with my impulsiveness. But, I didn’t need to. After morning prayers, a week later, Dad said I should wait behind. And as I sat with Mum and the rest of the family, he narrated the entire incident. And when I felt my heart about to explode from tension, he began to thank me profusely.
I was wide-eyed as he said that the deal was actually fraudulent and that signing it would have cost us everything we had and more. We asked how he knew this and he said that the man had been picked up by the police three days ago as he was about to con another person into signing it. And then everything was revealed.
In between my family’s praises and the tears of joy I shed that my intuition wasn’t wrong, Dad said he thought he had a mad woman as a daughter and asked if I was sure I was pursuing a Law degree and not one in Theatre Arts. We laughed long and hard.
We were safe, I said to myself. It ended well.
My entry to The Inkwell Creative Nonfiction Prompt.
