HE'S JOKING
My mind suddenly goes back to what he said; four (4). I know he means it. Is that it? Just four? I have not even had the fun of this last one and he cuts me off.
'Father?'
'Mhm?'
'I get to finish the last one right?'
Still focused on his driving, not a stare he gave me. He throws his words at me softly as if he almost regrets it.
'Yes, you get to. Just this one. This last one then you'll go back.'
'I will go back? Where to? Phase null?' I blurt out sarcastically.
'Yes.'
I scoff. I chuckle. 'That was a joke right? That got me.'
'You are going back home Siphoned.'
He looks at me now and repeats it; bolding and underlining it: Home.
I become dumbfounded. Why? I have not even finished watching my dailies. I have not done anything yet. Nothing magnificent and he wants me what? Home?
HE'S JOKING.
'I am not going back. Please I want an odd one. Give me a plus 3 or 1. I am not going back till I get it done --all the pluses. I have not enjoyed the surpluses, father. I need more. I have become your truest daughter now, selfish.'
I give a rotten smile one almost I can not recall. It is not funny. He listens to my plea without uttering a word. He just stares at the windshield focused on the never-ending road.
My plan is different. I have to finish what I started or there'd be war. I give him a tight-lipped smile; I bet he sees that through the side mirror.
'Father, I will finish with Laylah and you'd give me a plus one. I can settle at that because I will not move an inch until I am done with the dailies, my dailies. I coined them and they do not even know it.' I hit the right side of his chest playfully and I say --it was glad meeting you.
***
He freezes like he sees a ghost. Night meets us on the road, we just can not evade it. I am still fixated on him lost in thought and not so. He still did not move. I assumed he did not want to give me the pluses.
'You know you can not stop me, father. You know right?' This is getting serious cos he is not moving an inch. I look at the road and see nothing but he seems to start slowing the car; minimizing its speed with style.
'You are scaring me, what is it?' My lips start to twitch. My parched lips ache. Parches like a cheetah's spots. I press against them both. I say to him: 'Move over, I will drive. Do not worry about my poor night's vision. I will shine my eyes like a sailor's torch.'
The moment I tapped him to move over to the passenger's seat he became stiffer. I attempt to touch the steering wheel but he grabs my arm pressing against it forcefully. I will almost swear his fingers reaches my bones.
'You are hurting me.'
'You are hurting me!'
I struggle to convince him to tell me what the matter is but to no avail he keeps mute like he has been caused to pause with a remote. It takes minutes till he gestures forward.
'Mhm?'
Still confused I was. I am still struggling to get out of his tight gripped fingers. I just can not get out. It is as if what is doing him, whatever it is that made him stopped, is transferring to me.
'Ahead?'
I am not even sure of what I am saying. My muscles start to freeze; contracting without care.
WHAT IS HAPPENING?
I have no idea of what is to happen. My dad still freezes there; I guess I am on my own. I scream from time to time releasing frustration.
I still am there, on the brink of freezing off. I can not move. My limb is stiff as wet plywood. I am struggling to hang on, to not see myself as lifeless, and to still have faith but everything is going haywire I did not know what to do next; except that I screamed, still screaming until my lungs became parched. My lips are like barren fields that have been flogged with drought, it burns me inside.
Until he says to my lost mind, 'There, right there standing is your aunty. Remember I told you we are going to "aunties"? There they are; all four of them. We are a family of seven (7); crazy seven (7). We are frozen because they made us be and until they break us out of this bond, it is going to get worse. Prepare for the worst.'
'But aren't they....'
As I am about to ask my dad that question, it comes to my head what he previously said: "crazy seven."
"Prepare for the worst."
Then I look at him almost as if we both speak through telepathy. I am still in awe. Is this it? The joy? That joy which gets Laylah overwhelmed every time her uncle visits. That spirit which possesses her anytime she learns of her uncle's visiting. But nay, I refuse, this is traumatic for me; I can not even move an inch. I am stuck!
I'M STUCK.
CRAZY SEVEN.
PREPARE FOR THE WORST?
Till when? I have got more important things to do; Laylah, the dailies, and still listing. My aunties, he's joking.
WHERE'S MY DAUGHTER?