Yusuf looked at his father with disbelief in his eyes. His mother had just died, and all his father could say was Allahumdulilah.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.
Truly, he had expected a different reaction. He had expected his father to be hurt, broken, depressed even.
He wanted to see him suffer.
His father had loved his mother with every fibre of his being, with every air he took in. She was his weak link, his Achilles heel, she had control over everything that concerned him. During her last trip to Mecca, which he could not attend because of health issues, he kept acting like a robot with a missing remote control, all the while she was away.
So when Yusuf saw his father lift hands to the sky and say, “Allahumdulilah,” he was speechless.
This was not the plan.
His mother’s death was supposed to destabilize him. At least that’s what he thought when he pushed her head into the filled tub.
He didn’t have to do much.
Mother was already tipsy. Like, who takes a bath when they are tipsy? She had too much to drink and went soaking in a tub. He felt guiltless, she killed herself.
But that was not his main concern. His father had to suffer for embarrassing him in front of people, whenever he had the chance to. Mother never helped in anyway, she always supported him.
Yusuf could never understand why his father had way too much hatred for him, he didn’t care anymore.
Her death might not have had the effect Yusuf needed, but hey, he was glad she was gone. One foe vanquished.
Alhaji Danjuma saw the surprised look on his son’s face, he smiled within himself, Yusuf probably expected him to grieve.
He was grieving alright, just in his own way.
She liked wine, and she liked to soak in a tub, all he had to do was drop a few sleeping pills in her wine glass and the rest would take care of itself.
Well now, she’d go explain to Allah why Yusuf isn’t his but his gateman’s.