Prologue: Present Day
Matching combed-out Afros,
Matching nervous smiles,
Matching electric-blue agbadas:
Dad and I are a matching pair.
But Mum’s not here.
She can’t be.
Although I feel her,
Like a gentle hand between my shoulder blades.
I stand taller.
“It’s go time, gentlemen,” says Gem,
Dad’s once-assistant, now-producer.
She taps me and Dad on our backs.
Gem’s jasmine perfume
Complements Dad’s spicy cologne.
I turn to her voice,
Signature black bob and red lipstick.
She models an electric-purple dress,
One shoulder uncovered.
Gem would look perfect
On the red carpet beside Dad.
But that’s my role.
Gem’s purple dress
Makes me think of someone else
I need to keep out of my mind
Right now.
Smell the flowers.
Blow out the candles.
I inhale the present
And exhale the past.
“Mack!” loud-whispers Gem,
With a snap of her fingers.
My cue to step onto the carpet
And pose for the cameras,
Before Dad takes questions
And I stand in his shadow.
With Dad always a step ahead of me,
There’s little chance
The cameras will pick up
The shimmer of my blue eye shadow
Or the bling of my earrings.
Dad’s ears aren’t pierced.
He doesn’t need diamonds to shine.
He marches ahead,
Ready to take on the world.
I turn back to Gem and quiet-whisper,
“Matching outfits was cute when I was ten.
But I’m almost seventeen.”
“What would you rather wear?”
My red dashiki.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
I pick up my pace, as I spot Dad ahead:
The reporter by his side turns to me
Instead of him.
Weird.
“Mackintosh, rumor has it
That you and Finlay are dating.
You appear in multiple posts on his social media.
There’s
even a hashtag for the two of you.
Is it true?”
A microphone in my face.
Through the flash of camera lights,
Dad’s eyes fix on me: W I D E.
My forty-year-old father
Caught up in my teen drama.
I can picture the clickbait headline:
Director-in-Law:
Director’s Son and Lead Actor’s Secret Steamy Love Affair.
I stifle a laugh.
The reporter laughs along:
“Can we take that to mean the rumors are true?”
Gem moves in from the wings.
She holds up her palms.
“These questions weren’t authorized.
Since you have no questions about the film,
Teju and his son Mack are done here.
Thank you.”
Gem’s “Thank you” is polite but final.
She has an authority all her own.
I look away, relieved.
This isn’t my night.
It’s Dad’s moment. It’s not right
That I steal his thunder with my own storm.
This is
even a hashtag for the two of you.
Is it true?”
A microphone in my face.
Through the flash of camera lights,
Dad’s eyes fix on me: W I D E.
My forty-year-old father
Caught up in my teen drama.
I can picture the clickbait headline:
Director-in-Law:
Director’s Son and Lead Actor’s Secret Steamy Love Affair.
I stifle a laugh.
The reporter laughs along:
“Can we take that to mean the rumors are true?”
Gem moves in from the wings.
She holds up her palms.
“These questions weren’t authorized.
Since you have no questions about the film,
Teju and his son Mack are done here.
Thank you.”
Gem’s “Thank you” is polite but final.
She has an authority all her own.
I look away, relieved.
This isn’t my night.
It’s Dad’s moment. It’s not right
That I steal his thunder with my own storm.
This is A Tejumola Fadayomi film premiere.
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