It began raining before the time of the closing.
At 8 o'clock water had already begun to collect in small muddy pools outside the old supermarket at Ojodu Berger. The signboard was feeble over the door and the guards were no longer inspecting bags, since everyone wanted to get home before the storm hit.
Twenty-six-year-old Tobi was seated at the customer service desk rubbing his tired eyes in the store.
“Madam, I said that we can't refund if there's no proof of purchase,” he repeated gently.
The woman in front of him shrieked noisily. “So you think I stole blender?”
Tobi made the best of his face. “No ma, it's company policy.”
She stormed up with the blender, mumbling to herself. Tobi watched her slip away through the sliding doors, and sighed deeply.
From behind him, Amaka his co-worker told him, “Your face looks like somebody stole your destiny.”
Tobi laughed weakly. “One day this job will be the death of him.”
Amaka accidentally let go of a nylon bag of puff-puff which fell on the table. "First eat before fainting.”
The supermarket gradually began to go down. Workers counted cash. Shelves were covered. Wet tiles were mopped.
After that, the lights went on flashing.
Twice.
And, there he was, standing out.
“NEPA again!,” someone shouted in the back.
Screamed the groans throughout the store.
Tobi pulled out the emergency torchlight from his drawer. He was displaying it to his desk as he passed by and something caught his eye.
Small crumpled receipt.
Most likely abandoned by one of the customers.
At first he picked it up carelessly, and was already intending to throw it out. However, when he saw the date, he realized.
June 14th.
His expression changed.
It was a nail on that date that hung in his mind.
It was the day his father went missing 3 years before.
That same day, his mother fell down from crying in their one room apartment at Mushin. On the same day neighbors whispered about Mr. Adebayo abandoning his family due to another woman.
Tobi swallowed slowly.
This was the same supermarket the receipt was from.
Time: 7:42 PM.
Items purchased:
Small chocolate cake.
Blue candles.
Children’s juice packs.
Party balloons.
Tobi frowned.
His birthday was on the 15th of June.
He stared at the paper again.
The night before his birthday his father left.
“Tobi?” There was a voice that called out from the midst of the darkness, Amaka's voice. “You dey there?”
“Yeah.”
His voice sounded far away, however.
With one black nylon bag, his father had left home. No explanation. No goodbye. After that, no phone calls. Nothing.
But here was evidence that just hours before his disappearance, the man purchased birthday items.
For him.
It was getting heavier raining outside.
Tobi then carefully folded up the receipt and put it in his wallet.
He couldn't sleep that night.
The following morning, before going to work, he went to see his mother. She peeling beans into a plastic bowl, sat outside their apartment, listening to an old radio.
“Early,” she said, “You're here.”
Tobi was silent, sitting beside her.
“Mummy… if someone wanted to go away forever, would he go out and buy birthday cake first?”
Her hands ceased to move.
"What do you mean 'what kind of question is that'?"
He handed her over the receipt.
She adjusted her glasses and started reading sub vocally.
She remained silent for a lot of time.
Then gently, “Birthdays were a favorite thing of your father's.”
Tobi looked away. “Birthday lovers don't go away.”
Carefully, his mother folded the paper. “Maybe something happened.”
“For three years?”
She had no answer.
But once Tobi had come home from work that evening, he went back to the supermarket storage room. There were dusty old filing cabinets there where they stored old transaction records, which no one would touch unless an auditor came.
He searched for almost two hours.
After all, he did find it.
Register 4. June 14th.
Transaction 88421.
Cashier name: Hassan.
When Tobi rushed out, it was right away.
He asked one of the older members of staff, “Hassan still works here?”
The woman nodded. “Last year transferred to Ikorodu branch.”
The next Saturday, Tobi traveled there.
The branch was smaller, and hotter. Lazily revolving ceiling fans overhead customers.
Hassan was now of an older age, and had grey hairs around his beard.
Initially, he had none of the memories.
Then Tobi presented him with the receipt.
The old cashier looked at it for some time.
“Ah,” said he in a low voice. “That man.”
Tobi leaned forward. “You remember him?”
"Yes, he asked me strange question.”
“What question?”
Hassan slowly scratched his chin. He enquired whether there was a hospital nearby, treating kidney ailments.
Tobi froze.
So my father was diseased with the kidney?”
“You didn’t know?”
Tobi slowly shook his head.
Hassan sighed. “That night he was in a very weak condition, very ill and after paying, he even sat down for some minutes.”
“Where was he heading?
The old man nodded slowly.
“LUTH.”
Tobi felt like he could come to the end of his life.Tobi felt as though the world was shrinking around him.
So that night he went home and looked in some old boxes of his family. Under old papers and old bills for school fees, he discovered hospital papers.
His father’s name.
Dialysis treatments.
Huge debts.
Dates.
Many dates.
That includes the week he went missing.
At the end there was a letter for his mother.
The envelope had never been opened before.
His hands were trembling when he read it.
Bisola,
I know you will be angry with me for leaving like this. However, the treatment is too costly at this time. I had almost everything being sold on the sly. As long as I am here the debt people will pay all of you. I can't stand that kind of thing happening.
Access the funds in Chief's account that are for Tobi's school. I'm sorry for his birthday, tell him.
He stopped reading.
The bank slip was inside the envelope that was faded.
Tobi was sitting quietly on the floor for a while.
The children were playing football in the outdoor area, making lots of noise when they scored.
Behind him his mother stood at the door.
“Yes, it is here,” she whispered.
He lifted his gaze, easing his way upwards. “You knew?”
Her worn-out eyes were filled with tears.
"He told me not to tell you.”
The pain in Tobi's throat was a bad one. Where's he now?
She carefully dabbed her face with her hands.
He passed away 2 months after he left.
They all fell into silence.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Implicitly silent silently he arrives, truth in the heavy way.
Tobi checked over the outdated supermarket receipt again in his hand.
Three years.
The whole story was on the smallest sheet of paper and had been transported silently in someone's pocket all along.
