It was exactly 5:40 in the morning when Emeka heard the truck horn outside his window.... f矛rst One long sound..
Then two short ones.
He knew that sound.
It was Mr. Monday... Nobody knew why people called him Mr. Monday... his real name was actually Okafor, so Maybe it was because he worked every Monday like his life depended on it.
Emeka got out of bed, washed his face and stepped outside.
There, the old delivery truck was parked beside the compound gate... It was badly painted, with rust around the doors and one headlight that had refused to work for almost six months.
"You are late," Mr. Monday shouted.
Emeka looked at the time.
"It is 5:43."
"Exactly. I said 5:40."
Emeka shook his head.
"Good morning to you too."
Mr. Monday laughed.
"Enter before I change my mind."
They had been making deliveries together for almost two years... It wasn't a glamorous job.
Sometimes they delivered food.
Sometimes building materials.
Sometimes things they didn't even understand.
That morning, they were carrying boxes of electrical equipment to a town several hours away.
The journey started quietly.
Emeka slept for the first thirty minutes.
When he woke up, Mr. Monday was arguing with another driver.
"Your truck almost killed us!"
The other driver shouted something back.
Mr. Monday didn't answer.
He simply drove away.
"You were about to fight him," Emeka said.
"I am too old to fight."
"You didn't look too old five minutes ago."
"I am old enough to know that fighting doesn't repair a truck."
Emeka laughed.
Around noon, they stopped at a small roadside restaurant...There was a woman selling rice and beans under a faded umbrella, She wore a purple wrapper and had a small radio beside her.
Mr. Monday ordered two plates and While they were eating, Emeka noticed an envelope lying on the seat beside Mr. Monday.
"What's that?"..
Mr. Monday looked at it.
"Nothing."
"It looks like a letter."
"Because it is a letter."
"Then why did you say nothing?"
Mr. Monday continued eating.
"Because some things are better left unopened."
Emeka looked at him.
"Who is it from?"
"My daughter."
That was all he said...
They finished eating and continued their journey and for the next hour, Mr. Monday barely spoke... Then the truck suddenly stopped then Smoke started coming from the bonnet..
"Not again," Mr. Monday muttered.
They got down.
The engine had overheated...
They were still trying to figure out what to do when a young man approached them from a nearby house... "Do you need help?".. Mr. Monday nodded.
The young man disappeared and returned with some water and tools and after almost an hour, the truck finally started...
Mr. Monday thanked him and reached into his pocket.
"How much?"
The young man shook his head.
"Nothing."
"Take something."
"No, sir."
He smiled."Someone helped my father like this when I was younger. He told me never to forget it."
Mr. Monday became quiet.
He simply nodded.
They drove away.
After a while, Emeka noticed that Mr. Monday was staring at the letter again.
"You should read it."
"Why?"
"Because you have been carrying it around all day."
Mr. Monday sighed.
"My daughter and I haven't spoken in four years.".. Emeka said nothing.
"She left because of me."
"What happened?"
"I was angry because She wanted to marry someone I didn't approve of and I said things I shouldn't have said."... He looked down at the envelope.
"She sent this letter two years ago."
"And you haven't opened it?"
"No."
"Why?"
Mr. Monday stared through the windscreen.
"Because I am afraid of what it says."
For once, Emeka had no joke to make.
They drove in silence.
When they finally reached their destination, they unloaded the boxes but Before entering the truck, Mr. Monday stopped.
He looked at the letter.
Then he opened it.
His eyes moved slowly across the page.
Emeka didn't ask what it said... He didn't need to..
Mr. Monday's hands started shaking and then he sat down on the roadside.
"What happened?"
Mr. Monday wiped his face.
"She has a child."..
Emeka sat beside him.
"A girl."
He smiled through his tears.
"She named her after my mother."
For a few minutes, neither man spoke.
Then Mr. Monday folded the letter carefully.
"She wants me to come home."
"Then go."
"What if she doesn't forgive me?"
Emeka shrugged.
"At least you will know you tried."
Mr. Monday looked at him.
"You know, for somebody who sleeps through half our journeys, you sometimes say useful things."
Emeka laughed.
"You're welcome."
They returned home the next morning but before dropping Emeka off, Mr. Monday stopped the truck.
"I'm not going to work tomorrow.". ."Why?"
"I'm going to see my daughter."
Emeka smiled...
"Good."..
Mr. Monday reached into the truck and pulled out the purple wrapper they had bought from the roadside woman.
"What's that?"
"For my granddaughter."
"You don't even know if she likes purple."
Mr. Monday smiled.
"Then she'll learn to like it."
The truck drove away.
Emeka stood by the roadside watching it disappear.
It was still the same old truck.
Same rust.
Same broken headlight.
Same terrible horn but somehow, that morning, it looked different.
Maybe because sometimes a journey isn't really about where the road takes you... Sometimes it is about what you finally find the courage to face along the way.
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