Mummy, We Need Daddy

"Who is our father, Mummy?" David inquired, his naive tone breaking the stillness of the living room.

I went cold. The question hung in the air with far more weight than I had anticipated. From their seats on the couch, two sets of wide eyes, David's and his twin sister Dara's, peered at me with anticipation, their little features contorted with interest.

I looked at the time. It was just ten in the morning. Even though the day had only started, I immediately felt as though it was choking me.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

A teasing smirk twisted David's lips. "We've had this question for a while. You never mention him, but you always talk about grandma and grandpa.

I let out a trembling laugh. Even though I had been dreading this day for years, I didn't think it would arrive so quickly, let alone today. The twins were growing up quickly, and they were asking more pointed and persistent inquiries. They were demanding the truth and were no longer content with evasive responses.

I bit my lip to keep their interested eyes off me. "You know, I promised you both we’d talk about this when the time was right."

They glanced at each other, obviously not impressed by my avoidance.

"Mummy, is he coming to see us?" Dara inquired in a gentle, hopeful tone.

My chest began to ache. How was I going to tell them? The reality was much too complex for kids their age.

"No," I murmured softly, averting my gaze from their features. Instead, I tried to force the torrent of recollections that threatened to overwhelm me back into the back of my mind by looking out the window.

For years, I had kept the truth to myself. Even after ten years of meticulously crafted falsehoods and concealment, they were still able to catch a peek of it. They were intelligent, sometimes too intelligent for their own benefit. It appeared that the past was catching up to me and making its way to the surface whether I was ready for it or not. I had believed that I could keep them safe and shelter them from the complex mess that was their father.

David remained unfazed. "But, Mummy, why isn't he here? Is he far away?

I inhaled deeply. The room's air was oppressively heavy. I tried to speak as evenly as possible as I said, "He's not in our lives anymore." "He departed a long time ago. It's just the two of us now.

It was just partially true. Yemi Black had not truly "disappeared." Somewhere, he was still enjoying his life, prospering in a way that only the wealthiest, most prosperous men could. I had no trouble imagining him—tall, black, the type of man who turned attention everywhere he went. And that was the issue. He embodied all of my fears: danger, allure, and unpredictability.

The type of man who, without hesitation, would completely upend your life.

David scowled. "Mummy, why don't you want to discuss him?"

Even though I could feel the truth weighing down on my chest, I resisted giving in. Not quite yet. They were not prepared to learn their father's identity.

However, I realized I couldn't continue to avoid it as their eyes grew confused and hurt.

"How about we grab some ice cream?" My voice a bit too bright, I proposed. "All right, let's discuss it in more detail later."

Despite their lack of conviction, the twins nodded, indicating that they were eager to get the tension out of the room. The truth lingered in the air, even though I was glad they didn't pursue it further.