The last thing he remembers was a loud crash and his car veering off the bridge and plunging into the river.
Now he was sitting at the back of a moving car, with a shirt bigger than his frame and fingers trembling on his lap, watching a neighborhood he used to know wear a new look. Everything looked different, the buildings, the people, the road, everything.
“There was a building here,” he mumbled.
"Sorry?" The young girl in neat braids and sharp eyebrows, driving, replied without turning.
He leaned forward. “There was a building here." This time he said out loud
The young girl smiled. “Well, it was sold to a bank."
Mr Tunde blinked. He turned and looked at the girl as she held tight to the steering wheel. This time there was a hint of pain in his eyes. Her face held some memories. Memories he couldn't vividly remember but they were flashing through his face. Memories of his wife's lips, her eyes, and a familiar voice he had known years back before the accident. Before the co-ma. A voice that had grown to be more womanly.
They said she was his daughter, but why was it hard for him to easily recognise her? Even though she had his nose and a big birthmark like his own on her hands. The coma must have affected his memory too.
He saw her return his stare with her side eye. Mr Tunde quickly turned his face away and looked out the window. Was he ever going to be the same again? Although the doctor said he would, it would only take time. But to him, he wasn't sure about that. He only hoped for the best.
She turned sharply onto a street with a signboard that read "Treasure Ville Phase 3.” Mr Tunde took a deep breath. At least he could still remember his neighbourhood even though everything feels changed.
She pulled up in front of a cream bungalow with potted flowers at the entrance and parked. “Home,” she announced.
He hesitated. Eyes darting around like he wasn't sure “Are you sure?” he asked. "I used to live in a white house."
The girl smiled, “Yes, Daddy. This is home. We did a little renovation months back." You could tell how tired she was by her eyes.
One thing that didn't feel different to Mr Tunde was the smell from his compound. It was the same. The wild orange and guava trees that seemed to be fighting for space with each other for years now. He shrugged and stepped out of the car. His knees cracked. His back winced. He tried to move but his weak knees almost gave up. His daughter rushed to him for help wrapping her arms around him. He leaned lazily on her shoulders for help. That was when he smelled it. That familiar scent he had known years back from when she was a little girl. His memories opened up and all came rushing back
He froze and stared at her like he had seen a ghost.
"What?" She was shocked at the way he looked at her.
"Mimi," he called her for the first time after he woke up from a coma by the nickname he had given her.
Shocked. "Yes, yes. It's me, Mimi." She gasped, holding back tears.
Mr Tunde didn't reply anymore. He only let her walk him into the house.
Inside, the living room was cool and soft with silence. No ticking clock. Just the low hum of an inverter. The curtains were new. A flat-screen TV sat in the corner like a quiet giant.
At the corner was a large photo frame of him and his wife on their wedding day. He walked over to it and rubbed his hands over it.
"Where's Mide?" He asked again for the tenth time. "Where's my wife?" He turned and looked at Mimi. "You said she would be home, to welcome me. But I see no sign of her."
Mimi's face fell. She didn't know how to say it. How to tell him that his beloved wife, who was the first person he asked for when he woke up, had died just two years after he fell into a coma. How was she going to explain to him that the pressure of seeing her husband helpless for years had worsened her blood pressure and eventually led to her death?
Mimi only shook her head and hoped it told him all he needed to know.
He sat down suddenly, like the weight of her silence had knocked something loose within him. The only person he didn't lose memory of was gone. He tried to shout but the pains in his body were way bigger than the pain in his soul.
“But… she said she would wait. I heard it all while I was out. She promised.”
"She did." Mimi bent down to him and held his hands. "She waited two years for you. But when the doctor said they weren't sure if you'd wake that tore her up. Everyone thought you'd be dead, but even in her sickbed, she asked me not to give up on you." She paused. "Even after her death, it took you another two years to be here today. Thanks to family, well-wishers, and the trust fund you left in my name. That's what helped me fight for your life."
He stared at the floor as tears dropped from his eyes "I'm sorry. I.... I didn't mean to put you all through all this."
"You don't need to be sorry. You just have to get better. Thank God that phase is over now."
Tunde chuckled softly, though it cracked halfway. “She begged me. Not to drive that day. I remember now. The rain. That stupid pothole on the bridge.”
Mimi didn't reply. She only rubs his back.
He looked up suddenly. "COVID? What is that?" He asked, eyes wide as he stared at a pic-ture of a calendar with Mimi's face on it distributing relief materials. "Are you into politics? Is that your party name?" He continued asking.
Mimi burst out laughing, and for a moment, the air loosened. “You really slept for so long,” Aramide answered. "Don't worry there's a lot of catching up to do. But for now, you've got to dress up. Your siblings are coming over with their family for dinner. I'll take you to your room now" she stood and helped him stand up
"Siblings?" He groaned as he stood up. "What else do I need to catch up on? Are you mar-ried? Did I miss your wedding? Is Yar'Adua still the president? Did Arsenal win the Champi-ons League?" Mr Tunde kept going on and on.
"Don't worry Dad. We'll discuss all that later." Mimi kept on laughing.
And just like that, the atmosphere changed and it was no longer heavy. The years might have taken so much but she was happy that finally her father was back.
