I had always known that Mum wasn't her happy self anymore, months after Papa's death. But I never knew it was so serious until one Sunday night I needed a glass of water past midnight. I caught her curled on the couch in her old green wrapper with the TV blinking light across her face. At first I thought she was engrossed in the TV show but she wasn't really watching the TV. She had this glassy look in her eyes. And before I knew it, tears began to slip down her cheeks.
To worsen it all, she pressed her face into the couch pillow to stifle the noise. I made sure she didn't know I was awake. Quietly, I sneaked back to bed but what I saw that night stuck with me.
I was ten, but smarter than my age, and could tell what heartbreak looked like. I've seen Aunty Chika cry like that when she broke up with her boyfriend. The only difference was that Mummy didn't scream or make a fuss about it.
That night, I made up my mind that I was going to find a husband for Mummy and a new fa-ther for myself. To my little brain that was what could solve Mummy's problem. Besides I've heard Aunty Chika tell Mummy several times that she needed a man.
But how was I going to do it? I didn't really know but I was confident I would come up with something.
The next day, I borrowed Mummy's laptop when she was busy cooking dinner. I quickly googled
"How to find a husband for your mother."
The pop-ups left me confused for a while. It was a list of weird websites that I saw Aunty Chika browse through at times. I've always wondered what social media it was. It was so confusing, but I took my time to study it, and before I knew it, I was already setting up a pro-file for Mummy.
"Tall black beautiful woman who can make the best fried yams and egg sauce with a very nice smile. One small boy included. And you must love cartoons."
Then I used one of Mum’s old photos from when she was still happy.
Soon I was getting messages from men on the app. I kept replying with my own little knowledge like Mummy. I even set up a few blind dates with the men. Although it was my first time in the app, it felt so easy. Thanks to a smooth user interface.
Mr. Beard was the first man to come knocking at our door. He had a beard that looked like he didn't remember where his clippers were. That was how I earned him the nickname Mr Beard. To worsen it all up he smelled like onion and sweat.
I watched as Mummy opened the door, then she blinked twice, surprised.
“Sorry, who are you?” she asked.
“Who am I? Don't tell me I look so good, you don't remember your lunch date?” he said, smil-ing.
“Lunch what? Must be at the wrong door” Mummy said, trying to close the door.
I quickly ran out of my hiding place and held the door. "Mummy, don't forget so soon. I told you the date was today, remember?" I said dragging Mr Beard inside.
Mummy turned to look at me in her 'Chisom?' look.
"Come on Mummy. I'm trying to get you to make new friends." I quickly whispered to her after I made sure Mr Beard was seated.
She stared at me, at Mr. Beard, then at me again. Her mouth opened, closed, and then she gave me that sharp look that usually makes my neck itch. I knew I was in trouble later. But I didn't care. It was for her own good.
Mr. Beard spent thirty minutes talking about his generator business. I sat behind the door eavesdropping, judging him with all my might. When he said he didn’t like cartoons, I knew within me he wasn't the one.
I set up a second date, ignoring Mummy's warnings. This time I made sure to go for a pastor. To me, they were God's servants and would take care of Mama just as Christ takes care of us. At least that's what I heard in Sunday school every Sunday.
Pastor Praise showed up at our door wearing a shiny suit. When Mummy opened the door to see a man standing there with a flower in his hands, she looked at me in disbelief.
“Chisom, again?” she asked looking at me
“I thought maybe he could pray with you,” I said, smiling sheepishly.
But Pastor Praise was worse than Mr Beard. He called everything a "blessing. He even tried to lay hands on Mum’s head to pray for healing from "past wounds."
Well, I dragged him out myself.
While I banged the door shut I turned to see Mummy with the deadliest stare I had ever seen on her face.
“Chisom,” she called calmly.
"Mummy. I'm just looking out for you. I don't like it when you cry at night into the pillow. I saw you the other night." I revealed.
Mama didn't talk for some seconds. I guess she was surprised to know that I saw her.
“The next time you bring a stranger to my door, I’m calling Grandma.” she threatened before walking into her room.
My head spun as I heard that name. That was when I knew I had to call it off. Grandma, an old soldier who claimed to fight in the Civil War, wasn't someone you'd want to fall into her little black book.
Weeks passed. And I never saw Mummy cry again. Although her smile had reduced. But yet, something was missing. Something I couldn’t name. But this time I couldn't help anymore. I didn't want to be reported to Grandma.
Then one Saturday, there was a knock on the door as I watched cartoons in the living room.
I opened it to see a delivery man with a box of pizza. His shirt was neatly tucked in, and his eyes looked kind.
"Sorry, we didn't order pizza," I said, banging the door shut and jumping back onto the couch. I didn't want to miss any scene in my cartoon.
The knock came again, but before I could get it, Mummy walked into the room and answered the door. I stood there watching her. Turns out she ordered the Pizza.
“Delivery for Mrs Mathew.”
"That's me." She smiled. "Sorry, my boy can be a mess at times."
I rolled my eyes. Mummy was always disgracing me to strangers.
The delivery guy smiled. "I have one at home. A daughter. I can handle one bad attitude." He joked.
Mama smiled. She quickly picked up the box and signed. "Have we met before? Sorry, you... You look familiar."
"Where did you school?" The delivery man asked.
"The Central School, downtown."
"Cindy?*
"Yes," Mummy paused. Her eyes brightened.
"Jeremy! Fifth grade?" He explained.
"Oh yes!" Mummy leaned by the door. "The one that had a ..."
"..Crush on you"
I crossed my arms on my chest and watched them go on. Somehow, things were getting in-teresting. I could sense the chemistry already. Maybe the universe was helping me without me putting in the work.
"So, you're married now?" Mummy continued.
He hesitated. "Was, once. She died giving birth."
Mummy shook her head. "I'm sorry."
They stood there for a few seconds in silence. Then Mummy turned to walk back into the house. I groaned. "Have a nice day Jeremy". She tried to close the door but was held back by the delivery guy.
"Uhmm. Cindy? I was thinking... maybe we could grab some lunch later?" He asked, his voice shaking.
Mummy smiled. "You know I'm married right?" She asked.
"Not anymore. My dad died years ago. So she's single and lonely." I quickly blurted out even before I realized what I was doing.
I didn't just understand why Mummy was turning him down. From what I could see already, he was a nice guy who loved cartoons. If he truly had a daughter, that means he would love cartoons.
They both looked at me. I pinned my mouth with my hands and stared at the floor.
"Well, so what's it gonna be?" Mr Jeremy asked with a smirk on his face. He dug his hands in his pants and handed Mum his phone.
Mummy looked from him to me. Then back to him again. She took the phone and punched her number. "Still don't know how to give up, huh?" She asked.
"Not when the universe gave me a second chance with you." He winked. Then turned to me "Thanks for the assist, big man." Then he walked away.
Mummy shut the door and stared at me for a while. Then she smiled and walked back to her room with the box of Pizza.
I waited for her to close her door before celebrating my little win.
Maybe. Just maybe, Mummy will be happy again.
