The Sweetest Remedy by Jane Igharo

Author:Jane Igharo [Igharo, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-09-28T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

SEGUN

Segun stood on a step, frozen. He extended his head above the railing. When he saw his mother enter her bedroom, he climbed the rest of the steps and approached Hannah.

“Well, look at you,” he said, clapping slowly. She spun to face him, and he smiled. “First, you took on Tiwa and now, Mom. All in one day.” He stopped clapping. “I gotta admit, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Segun, where in the world did you come from?”

“From the movie theater, where you guys left me. Y’all couldn’t even wake me up and tell me the movie was over?”

“Well, you said you were trying to sleep so . . .” She rolled her lips into her mouth and fought back a laugh.

“Haha. Very funny.”

Her lips were straight again. “So.” She eyed him. “You heard all that?”

“Every word.” He was tempted to give her another round of applause.

People didn’t go around confronting his mom. The woman was intimidating as hell. She had a soft side, but reserved it for her family—the people she loved. The rest of the world got icy, assessing glares and passive aggression glazed over with elegance. And people put up with it because of who she was. But Hannah hadn’t. And it had been damn entertaining to watch.

“I wish I had gotten it on camera. It was epic.”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to put on a show. I was just pissed. She thinks I’m here for money—an inheritance.”

“Yeah. I heard that.”

“So?” She considered him, her eyebrows furrowed. “Is that what you all think?”

Segun huffed and pushed the hood off his head. He dropped on the white velvet bench set against the wall. It was more of a decorative piece in the hallway, small enough for just two people. He motioned for Hannah to join him, and she did.

“I heard what you said about Dad. How you’ve met him only once—how he never showed up for you. That’s fucked up.”

He imagined how it must have been for her—not knowing their father. He put himself in the same position but pushed the thought out of his mind almost immediately. He couldn’t imagine it. He didn’t want to. His father was gone now, but at least he had known him. At least he had memories, and they made his loss somewhat bearable.

He’d been staying up lately—unable to sleep, recounting those memories. He had a new appreciation for them and his father, now that he was gone. Segun remembered how he’d taught him to drive. He’d been such a patient and coolheaded teacher, even when Segun mistook the accelerator for the brake and drove into the gate. Why hadn’t he appreciated his father’s temperament? Why had he rolled his eyes during each of his father’s lectures on business and life? Why hadn’t he taken an interest in his hobbies—the many novels that filled his office shelf or his collection of old Fela records?

His father had loved music, and that was the reason Segun learned to play the piano as a child.

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