The next day was Father's Day.
I curled my lips like I'd tasted something bitter and nauseating as I closed from work an hour early. A storm was coming—an ironic way to usher in a day I detested. The wind was becoming fierce. It swirled, rolling up dirt and all sorts in a twisting motion.
I was going to climb the steps to my front door when a can, some balled papers and a jar, probably from a trash can rolled on the pavement to stop beside my feet.
A few people hurried to their destinations to avoid the horrors of the storm. I crouched and picked the jar. It was empty, clean and looked interesting for some inexplicable reason.
I held it to my chest, opened my door and stepped into my apartment. I dropped my bag on a table and proceeded to the kitchen to open the jar. It was difficult at first. I tried with a knife and almost cut my fingers.
I sighed, turned on my coffee maker and brewed a cup. As I sipped, I struggled with the lid and finally, it popped open!
I grinned at my little achievement when I heard someone clear his throat behind me. In shock, I jumped off the bar stool and knocked my coffee off the counter in the process. Some spilled on my skirt suit while the cup smashed to pieces on the marble floor.
"Ouch!" I exclaimed. As my thighs smarted from the pain of the hot liquid, something—or someone—got my attention.
I turned to see a very tall, muscular man, about seven feet tall, standing in my kitchen! My eyes widened in shock. He was the striking image of Denzel Washington!
My hands shook. The hairs on my neck stood erect. I was suddenly cold but felt sweat beads roll down my face. I backed away slowly. "Am I dreaming? How did you get into my flat?" I asked.
"You brought me into your home." His tone was non-committal as he glanced around my kitchen. "I was in the jar before you set me free."
I stopped moving. Was I reliving a scene from the Aladdin movie? More so, Will Smith was the genie character in the live-action, not Denzel Washington!
He smiled and my heart swooned. "You are not dreaming. I am real," he said and inclined his head in a bow.
"You're a genie??"
"Yes, ma'am."
"This is crazy but I won't question it. I'll probably wake up later and laugh about this. Wow! So genies are a real thing…" I was rambling.
I cleared my throat and raised my chin. "Welcome, genie. Shall I state my three wishes then?"
He wore a subtle smile like he wanted to laugh at the show I was putting on. "Ma'am, you only get one wish and it must be coffee related. So think carefully before you ask."
I stared at him, my mouth hanging agape. A genie with one wish! He nodded in affirmation as if he heard my thought. An image of my father appeared in my mind. I frowned and mentally swatted it away.
"What about your father?" His gentle voice was calming.
"So genies read minds?" I replied with a question. He grinned, shrugged and took the seat next to me. I felt at home with him instantly.
"I had him for a while. He was my best friend then I lost him."
"How?"
"We had a coffee plantation that produced the best coffee in the city. Father was very rich but his love and presence at home mattered more. Things changed when I became a teenager. He stopped caring, he drank more and our home became a nightmare. He sold our plantation! We were evicted like paupers. It was a very sad day for me. I just wish he never sold our coffee plantation—"
I clamped my hand on my mouth. I'd just made a wish unknowingly. The genie snapped his fingers. Just like a dream, I was back at the plantation, watching a mini-me running around with my friend.
"¡Hola chiquita!" My father dressed in a shirt, trousers and riding boots chased after me. I squealed in delight as he picked me up and turned around in circles. The scene changed to nighttime and I heard my parents arguing in the kitchen.
"How could you, Miguel?" Mother said.
"You don't understand. It's either I sign the papers over to them or they hurt you and the girls. I don't want that!"
"But it's their inheritance! It's their home. Carmen dreams of taking over from you as the eldest."
My father looked exhausted and sad. "It's a huge debt, mi amor. It's for the best. We'll move to a new town and start over."
Everything made sense then. Father sold our plantation to pay off debt and to save us.
I heard the snapping of fingers and glanced up to see Denzel—I mean, the genie smiling at me. "Now you understand. Your wish is granted." And he vanished, like a magician in a circus show.
My phone started to ring. It was father. We had not spoken in ages. I swiped the screen. "¡Hola chiquita!" His breathing sounded ragged. "Mi amor, I got our plantation back!..."
"Hi, Papi. What do you mean?"
"I didn't know how to tell you girls then but I gave the plantation to pay our…erm, my debts…the people called some minutes ago to tell me it was all a mistake. They are moving out of the plantation as we speak."
"That's good news, Papi. Are you happy?"
"Oh my daughter, you have no idea. I failed my family and now, I can redeem myself again. Do you think your mother will forgive me?"
It wasn't until the teardrops touched my lips that I realised I was crying. "Of course, Papi. Give her a call. I'll come for the weekend."
It was going to be a happy Father's Day after all.