All the Time in the World
I’m a pretty… nice guy. I mostly live a carefree, fun life. Why not? I’m blessed with a good wife, a great job and near perfect children. I’m living the good life, and it shows. You’d like me if you met me. Just not today. Today, I’m sitting a conference room, gloomy and ruminating on the fickleness of life. We’re here today and gone the next. Sometimes without warning. It in sucks, you know. Even if you win the lottery and live forever, there’s so much we have to live with. The stress, heartache, betrayals.
The Loss.
I sit up when my colleagues walk in. I don’t like where this is going. This… existential crisis that was triggered during my quiet time gleaning from the wisdom of King Solomon will have to stop at this point. I have no plans of tumbling down a dark tunnel that would only open Pandora’s box. No, I keep the lid on that tight just so I can function as a sane human being.
My colleagues seem blissfully unaware of any this. Jessica is setting up her laptop for a presentation and Adobea is going on and on about some disaster. I tune in to the chatter.
“… then Daryl says I can’t plan the event because I made this one mistake. And I’m like, really?”
Jessica hits a button on her laptop and looks up. “I’m not surprised. Partnerships can get messy.”
“No, he made this impossible. Everything was in place before ….”
“Okay, I’m ready. Shall we start?”
Adobea’s mobile phone starts to ring. She reaches for it . The ringing stops.
“You can take the call if you want.” Jessica pushes on her glasses.
Adobea flips her hair. “No, it’s just my mum. I’ll call her later.”
“Okay.” Jessica projects her slide and starts talking about financial projections. I try to stay focused, but for the life of me, I can’t get over that last word.
Later.
And just like that, Pandora’s box is opened.
The conference table disintegrates. I’m at another table. Smaller. There are four other guys around it. They’re chomping down on burgers talking to each other. It takes a minute, but the reality hits slowly. I’m at a cafeteria in Texas. It was ten years ago. I had just joined a multi-national company and was their training center. That was a job offer that turned my life around.
My family was dirt poor. Even one square meal a day was a luxury, and all sickness was prayed away because we couldn’t afford to do otherwise. My parents sent me off to the university on empty pockets. By some miracle, I survived on hard work and the kindness of strangers. My father owed all his family members, friends and enemies.
When the call came in from the HR of Merit Tech, my father burst into tears. If I remember correctly, he threw a lavish party. And why not? I was at the cusp of turning our lives around.
“I don’t understand a word the instructor says,” Goklas says wolfing down his steak..
I take a sip of my milkshake. “Yeah. He speaks really fast.”
It was a Monday, third month of training. We had exams all week so there was a lot of things to do.
My phone started to ring. It was my dad. I groaned. It wasn’t about the phone call. My father and I could talk about anything. It was the timing.
“Who is it?” Soumen asks.
“My dad. I can’t talk to him now.”
“Why?”
I shrug. It’s a number of reasons. Well, one, if I’m being honest. It would be four p.m back home. I could bet my monthly salary that at that very moment, my father had gathered around friends, uncles, and aunties to whom he would boast about his beloved son who was in ‘aburokyire.’ I’d have to listen to every one of them shower praises on me. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. My father had caught me off guard a couple of times. This was not going to be one of them.
So I put the phone away.
I meant to call him back.
I did.
But it wasn’t until after the last paper on Friday that I remembered. I listened to the instructor’s commentary, checking the clock behind him. I still had time before he went to bed. Ten minutes later, class was over. I got my phone out of my backpack and turned it on.
15 missed calls.
My heart stopped. That many calls from home when you’re away… you know something has gone horribly wrong. I decided to call my uncle first.
“Hello, Uncle.”
“Tony, how are you doing?”
I nod, waiting, dreading what was coming.
“Have you closed?”
Thump. Thump.
“Yes..”
He sighs. “Tony, your father is dead. I’m sorry.”
The world is silent for minutes, maybe hours after he says those words. And then there’s only one thing I want to know.
“When?”
“Monday night. We wanted to wait till you finished the exam.”
Monday night. I had time.
There’s really no way to quantify a moment like that. It’s mercilessly brutal and unforgiving. You know it’s on you. You made a monumental mistake you can never take back. The regret that it comes with is … overwhelming. And it leaves you broken beyond repair.
“You should answer that.”
Adobea stops mid-sentence. “What?”
“You should call her back.” I push my chair back. “There might not be a later.”
I step out into a corridor, grabbing at fresh air.
There was no audience. That day when my father called, he was alone. I’ve asked. He had spent the whole day in his room. The audience I was trying to avoid, they were never there. He must have known what was coming. So, he called me. His son. And I put him down for later.
Back in my office, I close the door and lean against it.
Lord.
It hurts, physically, like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.
I never got to buy him his dream car or build him a new house. He poured his blood and sweat into me. The least I could have given him was a chance to say goodbye. But, no. I was busy preparing for an exam that would give me a good life.
I would give all of it up in a heartbeat, just to hear his voice one more time.
As I blink tears away, apologies run through my head, over and over again. But there’s no use for any of that now. There’s no do over. I’ll never get to know why my father called that day.
And that’s a cross I have to carry for the rest of my life.
Photo by Maatla Seetelo on Unsplash
