This month started on a good note for me, as on the 3rd of December, I planned to take my boyfriend home to my parents. We had been dating for two years and in those times, I’d met his parents twice but he hadn’t met mine at all; my parents can be a hard nut to crack.
My mom had always been a very religious person and from the way she treated my siblings’ matters, I could guess what she would want from her to-be-in-law, and I was ready to please her. “If I would want any issue with anyone about my choice of a spouse, it should not be my mother,” I had always thought. So, I knew I had to talk to Adedayo.
I had known Dayo long before we started to date, and he had always loved dreadlocks, not just dreadlocks, with golden tips, which he had, elegantly styled, on his head. I could say it was one of the things that drew me to him, I loved his haircut and his choice of wear. Dope sneakers, plain stock jeans, and T-shirts or shirts constituted the larger parts of his wardrobe, after which he had a few traditional agbadas from his friend’s wedding ceremonies and some perfectly fit suits, for quarterly board meetings. As the programmer that he was, his casual dress pattern was the deal. His beards too were full enough to earn him the title, “Osama”. I just loved everything about him.
I knew mother wasn’t going to have issues with his dress sense, all of her six children dressed that way. However, something I knew was that she would definitely have issues with his coloured locked hair and full beard. I mean, the last time I fixed a gold-coloured weave-on home, had my dad not intervened, Mom would have locked me out. Yeah, Dad could be unusually very cool.
I told my boyfriend he’d have to cut his hair and hell broke loose for some minutes.
“What?!”
Silence.
“This dreads is 6 years old!”
Silence.
“I can’t cut it. I can’t do anything about it.”
Silence.
“Is it compulsory to meet her? Plus can’t I just wear a cap?!’
Silence. Wild stare.
“Babe, are you sure that’s the only way?!”
“I’m sorry, Dayo!”
Moves closer. Holds hands.
“Babe, tell me I don’t have to touch the beards, it’s just the hair. Please.”
“It’s for our own good, Adedayo,” I whispered.
“Shit!” Sighs. Door jams.
On the 3rd of December, we were on our way to see my parents, me and my boyfriend, with his low-cut, dark hair and his trimmed beard. The day he cut the hair and trimmed the beards, my heart broke when I saw him. He must have noticed from my expression, as he said “Actually, I love my new look. I look more like my dad now,” with a smile on his face.
“Oh, so you’re keeping this look now?” I asked.
“You kidding? I don’t want you to look more beautiful than me. I’m growing my beards back!” He said with a smirk on his face. I simply laughed.
We got to my house around 11am that morning, and I could tell he was feeling a bit uneasy. So, I held his hands and gave it a brief squeeze just like he did, the first time I was in his parent’s apartment. The television was on and tuned in to CBS Reality channel, my dad’s favourite channel and my dad was seated on the couch when we entered. I flew my hands around him, and I didn’t need to introduce Dayo to him, he had been expecting him for the past six months. He only gave him a firm handshake, smiling, and said, “Your pictures look better than you do, where did all that beards go?!” They both laughed and I was so “awwwned” to see the two men in my life laughing in such a perfect symphony.
I left them both there to go inside and get my mom. As I reached in, greeted her with a blissful hug, gave her a walking stick, and led her outside, I already knew I had a very big explanation to do. When we got to where the men were, she greeted my boyfriend with such joy and cheer in her heart, so much that it lighted up her face. I had never seen her so happy in months.
Everyone was very happy, except Adedayo. He was confused. He couldn’t fathom why mother had to be led inside the room, why she couldn’t really maintain eye contact with him. Why she said the words, “I’m sure you must be looking very good and responsible’” when she could see him herself, right there. However, he tried to stifle everything in and move with the flow until we were on our way out, about three hours after.
“I had always known your mom lost her sight some few months ago, but you told me she was being treated. I thought she was fine and could see now!”
I asked, “Why would you think so? If she got her sight back, that’s good news! I would have told you.”
“Well, you told me to cut my six-year-old hair and beard because of her! It was safe to assume she could see now,” he said trying not to shout.
I stared at him for a few seconds, and lowered my head as I could feel the burning tears building up in my eyes. Before the first drop escaped, I managed to say under my breath,
“My mother may be blind. However, I would forever choose to appeal to her sense of sight. The fact that if she could see you today, she would definitely have loved you, is my greatest joy.”
