The apartment is shrouded in darkness, the sudden shift from the brightly lit hallway leaving Obinai momentarily disoriented. His breath catches as he steps inside, the oppressive quiet and blackness amplifying the tension in his chest. He stands frozen just past the threshold, his eyes straining to adjust.
A soft click sounds behind him, and the lights flicker on. The small living room comes into sharp focus, the overhead bulb casting a harsh glow. The modest space feels colder than usual tonight. The worn sofa sits slightly askew, facing an old TV stand cluttered with framed photos and a stack of magazines. The dining table near the far wall is buried under a pile of unopened mail and Maria's neatly stacked work documents.
The room might have looked welcoming at any other time, but tonight it feels unforgiving. Maria steps past him, her movements precise, and turns to face him. Her expression is sharp, her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowing as they lock onto him. She crosses her arms, her posture stiff, and he knows there's no escaping this.
"Where have you been?" she asks, her voice cutting through the silence. It's calm but razor-edged, demanding an answer. "And don't say out, Obinai. I'm not in the mood for vague answers."
Obinai's hand instinctively moves to scratch the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I was just—" he starts, but Maria cuts him off with a quick shake of her head.
"Don't lie to me," she says, her voice rising slightly, her fingers drumming against her forearm. "It was Darren and Angel again, wasn't it?" Her eyes narrow further, and her tone hardens. "You know they're a bad influence. How many times do I have to tell you this?"
Obinai opens his mouth, then closes it again, his thoughts scrambling for something that won't make things worse. "Mom, it's not like that," he says finally, his voice soft and hesitant. "We weren't doing anything bad. Just hanging out."
Maria lets out a sharp exhale, her hand moving to pinch the bridge of her nose. Her frustration is palpable, and her jaw tightens as she looks at him. "Just hanging out?" she repeats, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Obinai, do you know how worried I was? It's late, you're sneaking around, and you don't even bother to check in. What am I supposed to think?"
"I didn't mean to worry you," Obinai says quickly, his hands moving in an awkward attempt to reassure her. "I just lost track of time, that's all. I'm sorry." His voice wavers slightly, betraying his nerves.
Maria exhales sharply, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. She shakes her head, her expression shifting from anger to something heavier—disappointment. "You boys used to be such good kids," she says, her voice rising with frustration. "Always studying, coming straight home after school, respectful. What happened, Obinai? What changed?"
Her words come faster now, piling on top of each other like waves crashing against him. "Is it those friends of yours? Darren and Angel? Are they dragging you into trouble? You think I don't notice when you start acting different? Staying out late, sneaking around—"
"Mom, it's not like that," Obinai cuts in, his voice quick and defensive, though it lacks conviction. He shifts his weight nervously from one foot to the other, avoiding her piercing gaze. "We weren't doing anything bad, I swear. We were just… just talking."
Maria raises an eyebrow, her fingers tapping against her arm. "Talking?" she echoes, her tone skeptical. "Talking about what? And why does talking require you to sneak out and come home this late?"
Obinai opens his mouth, trying to form an answer, but his mind stumbles over itself. Come on, think, think…
"We were, uh…" He hesitates, his eyes darting to the side as he tries to piece together something plausible. "We were helping… someone. A friend. They had this, uh, problem with their car, and we were—"
Maria's sharp inhale cuts him off. "A car?" she says, incredulity etched into her features. "None of you even have cars, Obinai. Try again."
He scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing. "Well, not our car. It was, uh, someone else's…"
"Someone else's?" Maria's eyebrow arches higher, and her lips press into a thin line. "Do you even hear yourself right now? You're just making this up as you go."
Obinai's hands drop to his sides, his fingers twitching slightly as if unsure what to do. "Okay, fine," he mutters, his voice edging toward desperation. "We were… studying! Yeah, studying at Darren's place. We just lost track of time, that's all."
"Studying." Maria's tone is flat now, and her arms drop to her sides. She leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. "At Darren's place. The boy who can barely spell his own name without autocorrect. Studying what, Obinai? Creative storytelling?"
The sarcasm lands hard, and Obinai winces, his shoulders slumping. He rubs a hand over his face, groaning softly. "Okay, okay. I messed up, alright? But it's not a big deal. We weren't doing anything bad. Just… hanging out."
Maria's lips tighten again, and her hands move to her hips. Her frustration radiates off her in waves. "It is a big deal, Obinai. You're sneaking out, lying to me, and who knows what else. You think I'm being hard on you, but it's because I care. What if something had happened to you? What if—"
Her voice falters for a moment, and the flash of worry in her eyes makes Obinai's chest tighten. He drops his gaze to the floor, unable to look at her. "I didn't mean to make you worry," he mumbles, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry."
Maria exhales slowly, her posture softening slightly. The disappointment in her expression lingers, but the anger seems to ebb. She shakes her head, her voice quieter now but still firm. "You need to start taking responsibility, Obinai. I'm not asking for perfection. I'm asking for honesty. Can you at least give me that?"
Obinai nods stiffly, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Yeah," he says, his voice strained. "I'll… I'll do better."
Maria suddenly stops mid-sentence, her nostrils flaring as she inhales deeply, her sharp eyes narrowing. Her expression shifts instantly from anger to suspicion, and she tilts her head, studying him with unsettling precision.
"What is that smell?" she asks, her voice dropping into the same deadly whisper Obinai had heard over the phone earlier.
Obinai freezes. His heart plummets as the realization hits him. The faint scent of marijuana clings to his hoodie—a damning detail he had completely overlooked in his panic. He opens his mouth, his lips parting uselessly, then closes it again, his mind scrambling for a response.
Maria takes a deliberate step forward, her gaze unrelenting. "Well?" she prompts, her voice low and cutting through the tension like a blade. "I'm waiting for an answer, Obinai."
His throat feels dry, and his palms are clammy. The room feels smaller, the air thicker, as his mother's eyes bore into him. "I... I was out with Darren and Angel," he finally stammers, his voice barely audible. "We were just hanging out at the park, and..."
Maria's expression hardens further. "And you decided to smoke weed?" she snaps, her voice rising, each word sharp and biting. "In the park? Just hanging out? Do you think that's acceptable? Do you?" Her voice cracks like a whip, making Obinai flinch.
"I didn't—" he starts, but his voice falters as he tries to find the words. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't think—"
"Exactly!" she cuts him off, throwing her hands up in frustration. Her tone is louder now, almost shaking with anger. "You didn't think, Obinai! You never think! Do you have any idea how serious this is? What kind of trouble you could get into? What kind of trouble you're dragging yourself into?"
Obinai shrinks back, his hands gripping the hem of his hoodie like it might shield him. "I just—" His voice cracks under the weight of her fury. "I wasn't trying to do anything bad. I just needed to blow off some steam, that's all."
Maria's eyes widen in disbelief, her voice sharp with incredulity. "Blow off steam?" she repeats, her hands dropping to her sides as she takes a step closer. "By smoking weed in a park? You think that's just blowing off steam?"
Her voice rises, raw and emotional, spilling over like a dam breaking. "Do you know how many people ruin their lives with that stuff? People who thought they were different, thought it wouldn't affect them? You think this makes you cool? You think this is some harmless teenage mistake?"
"Mom, I—" Obinai's voice is weak, barely cutting through her anger, his words floundering under her intensity.
"You!" she yells, pointing a finger at him. "You're better than this, Obinai! You're smart! You have so much potential, and this is what you're doing with it? Throwing it away on—on stupid decisions?"
Her voice cracks at the end, and the sharpness in her tone falters. She presses a hand to her forehead, her breathing uneven, the fury giving way to something quieter but no less intense. "Do you have any idea how scared I was tonight?" she says softly, her voice trembling. "You didn't call. You didn't tell me where you were. And then you come home smelling like this… What am I supposed to think, Obinai?"
Obinai looks down, guilt creeping over him like a heavy blanket. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."
Maria exhales slowly, her shoulders slumping as she leans against the back of the couch. The anger in her face softens, replaced by an exhaustion that cuts deeper than her yelling. She shakes her head, closing her eyes for a moment before looking at him again.
"I'm not mad because you made a mistake," she says, her tone calmer but still firm. "I'm mad because you didn't think. I'm mad because you scared me. And I'm mad because I know you're better than this." She straightens up, her arms crossing again as she meets his gaze. "You need to figure out what kind of person you want to be, Obinai. And you need to start making choices that reflect that."
Obinai nods slowly, his head hanging low, unable to meet Maria's piercing gaze. "I'm sorry," he mumbles again, his voice barely audible. "I'll do better. I promise."
Maria exhales sharply, pressing her fingers to her temples. She begins pacing the small living room, her steps quick and purposeful, her frustration palpable. She mutters under her breath, her words half-formed, fragments reaching Obinai's ears.
"Disrespectful… after everything… doesn't think…"
Her voice fades in and out, and Obinai shifts uncomfortably, his hands twisting together as he stands frozen, unsure if he should speak or stay silent.
Maria stops abruptly, her head snapping toward him, and her expression hardens. She steps closer, her movements deliberate, her presence looming over him. Without warning, she grabs his shoulders firmly, her fingers digging into his hoodie, making him wince.
"Listen to me," she says, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. Her eyes lock onto his, intense and unyielding. "If I ever catch you doing this again, things won't be so easy for you. Do you understand me, Obinai?"
"Y-yeah," he stammers, nodding quickly. "I understand. I swear."
Maria's grip tightens briefly, as if to make sure her words have landed, before her fingers relax. She doesn't release him right away, her gaze holding his as if searching for some flicker of sincerity. When she finally lets go, she steps back with a sigh, her shoulders sagging.
Obinai rubs his shoulder, avoiding her eyes. "I get it," he mutters. "I won't mess up again."
Maria studies him for a moment longer, then turns away, walking toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Her steps are slower now, heavy with the weight of the conversation. She pauses near the entrance to the hall, her back to him, her hand resting lightly on the wall.
"You've got dinner on the table," she says softly, not looking back. Her voice carries a mix of normalcy and the lingering tension of the night.
Obinai blinks, surprised by the shift. "Thanks," he murmurs, unsure if she even hears him.
Maria turns her head slightly, just enough for him to see the profile of her face. The anger is gone, replaced by an expression that cuts deeper—sadness and exhaustion etched into her features. "You only have one life, Obinai," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "Why not live it to the fullest? Why waste it on choices you know will hurt you?"
Obinai doesn't respond immediately, the weight of her words settling over him. He nods silently, his throat tightening, unsure if he could speak even if he wanted to.
Maria looks at him for another beat, then disappears down the hallway, her footsteps fading into the quiet of the apartment. Obinai stands there for a moment, staring at the spot where she had been tears starting to form in his eyes.