Some things in his life were just unavoidable, he thought. Things like family dinners or meetings, whatever name they called it to drag him here. As he walked down the street leading to his father's bungalow, he remembered that there was a time he thought of this place as home. Now, it was just a house in which his family lived, a meeting venue.
Nothing ever changed about the way the house looked, each time he visited, which was almost never, the house looked gray. He took off his headphones, as he walked into the small compound with a short wrought iron fence. Not needing to knock, he took a deep breath, and opened the wooden door. Well, Here goes nothing, he thought.
"Oh Jeff my boy! I'd heard you were coming around." she held him in a hug, as she cooed. He held her frail figure hesitantly, not expecting that she'd be the first person he would see in the living room, no wonder she was alone here, everyone must have done their best to stay out of her way.
"Hi, Aunt Maggie. You look well"
"Oh! Jeff, what did you expect? That your old aunt would wither away and die? especially since none of you ever checks up on me...."
"It's been just five months, Aunt Maggie" he said, cutting her short.
"Well, that's too much time for you not to check up on family. Come, sit with me, How have you been?"
"I've been fine, Aunty", thinking of an escape route immediately, "I'll be right with you, Aunty. I gotta go drop my bag, and pee." He headed to the kitchen instead.
He knew she'd be here, the sound of scraping pots, and the smell of food, gave her away.
"Hi, Mom." She turned at the sound of his voice, her smile was so beautiful, she always looked beautiful.
"Jefferson! she called out joyfully, I thought you wouldn't come. It's so good to see you."
"Of course, I came, mom, he said hugging her. He towered above her, and she had to look up, when she spoke.
"What's Godzilla doing here?" He asked, reaching for a bottle of milk in the refrigerator.
"Jefferson! you do not call your Aunt that. I told you and your sister to stop calling her that."
"What? Mom, she hates you."
"So, does that give you the right to hate her back? I thought I raised you better than that."
"I don't hate her, mom. I just don't like her"
"Get over yourself, Jeff. We're good Christians, we do not reciprocate hate."
"Where's Dad?" He asked, changing the subject.
"He's up in his room, resting. Are you Hungry?"
"I'm always hungry, mom, if you're cooking."
"Alright, dinner will be ready soon. Jeff?"
"Yeah?" He looked at her quizzically.
"Why does your hair look that way?"
"It's called Mohawk, mom." he hadn't heard her come in, and he turned to find his Seventeen year old sister, standing behind him.
"Good day to you too, Lucy" he said, patting her head, knowing how much she hated it when he did that, her eyes instantly changed to fire.
"Whoa! those eyes can kill from a mile" he laughed.
"Lucy, don't mind him, please get the chicken out of the oven, and Jeff, that hairstyle makes you look like a ghetto thug, you need to change it." his mom fixed her eyes on him.
"Mom, I'm an adult, I can cut my hair how I like", he snapped.
"Jeff?" Her features were ashen.
Not wanting to upset her, he said, rolling his eyes, "Fine, mom, I'll change it.
" Good, You should go, see your father."
He hesitated, before knocking twice and opening the door.
"Hello, Dad."
He was in bed, with his nose in a book. He was never in bed, by this time.
"Dad? , are you Ill?" He asked, walking across the room.
"It's nothing, Jeff, it's just my blood pressure, it's gone up lately. The doctor wants me to rest more, and your mother is making sure I'm doing just that." his face showed his disagreement. "How are you, my son?"
"I'm fine, Dad. You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, you're probably wondering why. I want you to move back home, Jeff."