Bébé's Day Out
“Ouch, Maman you stepped on my foot! You should say sorry?“ Bébé spoke to me without looking me in the eye. If only she did look, my five-year-old would have realised that I stepped on her toe because I didn't want her to eat the sausages. Perhaps I was the one who expected too much from my adamant and loquacious daughter. No doubt, the slim, dark skinned daughter must have been sent to punish me for some sin in my previous life. It was enough that her biological father did not want to marry a mute, now he has burdened me with a high-spirited and talkative child.
“Maman, can I have more sausages?” She asked sweetly. The old couple smiled and the wife placed her last sausage on my daughter’s plate. “Thank you, Ma’am.” Bébé smiled back whilst burying her head into the crispy hotdogs served on immaculate white China plates. I groaned inwardly, giving her the Medusa stare for her persistent audacity. She did not freeze for a moment rather she ignored my stares - Gen Alpha and their independent minds! The two sausages she had eaten before were from the plates of the old couple sitting across the table where we sat enjoying the Chef’s special for the day at Finisse Restaurant. She was unaffected by the events happening around her. Bébé was the shameless and brazen child of her father, Pappy. He could walk into the president’s chambers and casually ask for a glass of water without batting an eyelid.
I fixed my eyes on the immaculate, glossy walls of the restaurant trying to chew the soft bones of the marinated chicken without making an awkward sound. A large TV hung on the wall above my line of sight and I absentmindedly watched some dancers prancing like monkeys while I thought about Bébé ’s familiarisation with the old couple. She did not know them from Adam yet they were sharing sausages with her like family. I heard the old couple ask Bébé if she wanted some ice-cream and the gluttonous girl replied in the negative while her eyes spoke the opposite. Soon a large bowl of ice-cream was sitted before her waiting to be devoured. Bébé waited a while after saying “No, thank you” and soon began digging into the chilled plastic of dessert without throwing a slight glance at me. I did not know when I grunted and deliberately stepped on her toe again under the table but her response stunned me.
“What did I do now Maman? “She asked innocently. I was more frustrated that I could not berate her with words as words would have failed me as always. It is a frustrating feeling being the dumb mother of a vivacious 5-year-old.
“Is her father in town?” The couple asked me but before I could respond in the negative, Miss Can’t-Keep-My-Mouth-Shut jumped in saying her father had abandoned us. Immediately she uttered those words, I wished I could melt like the ice-cream she was eating and evaporate into thin air or better still, stuff three hotdogs through her fine thin lips to keep them occupied. Imagine saying her father abandoned us. I don't remember putting it like that to her.
Pappy used to dot on me but it must have been for my curvaceous body and alluring face. We dated for six months and when finally Bébé was conceived, he said he was not ready to be a father. His words “Abort it! We are not ready for this.” send righteous shivers through my nerves. But now it is said that he has fathered two other children with another woman since the breakup. Funny how stories about celebrities travel fast. He kept a low profile but some friends in the musical industry who knew him well said he moved out of town to marry a South African and had kids with her. It is true that not many normal people would want to marry a dumb woman even if she was a musical prodigy. Memories of how I used to be a talker in my early years filled my heart with melancholy. I wish I could be a singer but I never got my voice back since I lost it to an injury of the larynx. Writing songs for celebrity artists is a profession I had to opt for. I used to write for Pappy before passion got in the way of my career.
“I’m sorry about the queue incident.” The old man said for the umpteenth time. I nodded and smiled at him, waving my hand to say it was fine but my mouth-piece, Bébé , stepped in again.
“Mum said it’s fine!” She waved her hand mimicking my previous gesture.
“You’re so lucky to have a daughter like her. She speaks up for you.” The old woman smiled at Bébé one more time as if she was a cherub that had just descended from heaven. She had also told them that I could hear them even if I couldn't respond. Jumping into my space without being invited was her father's style.
“Lucky?” I thought again. Bébé has just completely embarrassed me and now she is acting autonomously as if I don't exist. I wish I had not brought her for lunch on her birthday. I would have averted such an unlucky day.
“See the way she stood up for you when we tried to jump the queue in front of you. She saved you from a fight by politely telling us that jumping queues is an act of Indiscipline.” The old woman stroked Bébé’s ponytails like she was a horse. I was uncomfortable with the way they were getting too close to my daughter. I reached for a pen in my bag to inform them that we were leaving but the old man’s request stopped me in my tracks.
“Can we sponsor your daughter's education? I was discussing it with my wife after we have observed you for a while. It will make us happy to do so. Please let’s support you.” He looked like he meant well but I felt insulted.
“Do they think we are beggars?” I was irritated by their self importance. Must people with disabilities be considered lowlifes? Or could it be because of my appearance. It was baby who wanted to eat out so l did not feel the need to overdress. I had casually packed my long curly afro in a puffy bun and worn a fitted faded Jean with a tank top. I was expecting to see anyone familiar so I chose my favourite bangle-like earrings forgetting that they were already losing their colour. Did this paint the picture of a struggling mum especially not with my glowing skin? I know I take extra care when it comes to caring for my skin.
It was Bébé’s fault. The way she was eating I could feel my fury discolouring my face. They probably think we might be struggling to eat but then would a struggling mum be able to afford a meal in a restaurant at the centre of the the Island? I started to write on a paper that we were doing fine and did not need their support when a towering presence cast a shadow on the paper before me. I looked up slowly and Pappy was standing there looking as stunned as I was.
“Meet our son, Papilo.” The old man announced, ignorant of the fact that a fresh storm was brewing.
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“Maman, can I have more sausages?” She asked sweetly. The old couple smiled and the wife placed her last sausage on my daughter’s plate. “Thank you, Ma’am.” Bébé smiled back whilst burying her head into the crispy hotdogs served on immaculate white China plates. I groaned inwardly, giving her the Medusa stare for her persistent audacity. She did not freeze for a moment rather she ignored my stares - Gen Alpha and their independent minds! The two sausages she had eaten before were from the plates of the old couple sitting across the table where we sat enjoying the Chef’s special for the day at Finisse Restaurant. She was unaffected by the events happening around her. Bébé was the shameless and brazen child of her father, Pappy. He could walk into the president’s chambers and casually ask for a glass of water without batting an eyelid.
I fixed my eyes on the immaculate, glossy walls of the restaurant trying to chew the soft bones of the marinated chicken without making an awkward sound. A large TV hung on the wall above my line of sight and I absentmindedly watched some dancers prancing like monkeys while I thought about Bébé ’s familiarisation with the old couple. She did not know them from Adam yet they were sharing sausages with her like family. I heard the old couple ask Bébé if she wanted some ice-cream and the gluttonous girl replied in the negative while her eyes spoke the opposite. Soon a large bowl of ice-cream was sitted before her waiting to be devoured. Bébé waited a while after saying “No, thank you” and soon began digging into the chilled plastic of dessert without throwing a slight glance at me. I did not know when I grunted and deliberately stepped on her toe again under the table but her response stunned me.
“What did I do now Maman? “She asked innocently. I was more frustrated that I could not berate her with words as words would have failed me as always. It is a frustrating feeling being the dumb mother of a vivacious 5-year-old.
“Is her father in town?” The couple asked me but before I could respond in the negative, Miss Can’t-Keep-My-Mouth-Shut jumped in saying her father had abandoned us. Immediately she uttered those words, I wished I could melt like the ice-cream she was eating and evaporate into thin air or better still, stuff three hotdogs through her fine thin lips to keep them occupied. Imagine saying her father abandoned us. I don't remember putting it like that to her.
Pappy used to dot on me but it must have been for my curvaceous body and alluring face. We dated for six months and when finally Bébé was conceived, he said he was not ready to be a father. His words “Abort it! We are not ready for this.” send righteous shivers through my nerves. But now it is said that he has fathered two other children with another woman since the breakup. Funny how stories about celebrities travel fast. He kept a low profile but some friends in the musical industry who knew him well said he moved out of town to marry a South African and had kids with her. It is true that not many normal people would want to marry a dumb woman even if she was a musical prodigy. Memories of how I used to be a talker in my early years filled my heart with melancholy. I wish I could be a singer but I never got my voice back since I lost it to an injury of the larynx. Writing songs for celebrity artists is a profession I had to opt for. I used to write for Pappy before passion got in the way of my career.
“I’m sorry about the queue incident.” The old man said for the umpteenth time. I nodded and smiled at him, waving my hand to say it was fine but my mouth-piece, Bébé , stepped in again.
“Mum said it’s fine!” She waved her hand mimicking my previous gesture.
“You’re so lucky to have a daughter like her. She speaks up for you.” The old woman smiled at Bébé one more time as if she was a cherub that had just descended from heaven. She had also told them that I could hear them even if I couldn't respond. Jumping into my space without being invited was her father's style.
“Lucky?” I thought again. Bébé has just completely embarrassed me and now she is acting autonomously as if I don't exist. I wish I had not brought her for lunch on her birthday. I would have averted such an unlucky day.
“See the way she stood up for you when we tried to jump the queue in front of you. She saved you from a fight by politely telling us that jumping queues is an act of Indiscipline.” The old woman stroked Bébé’s ponytails like she was a horse. I was uncomfortable with the way they were getting too close to my daughter. I reached for a pen in my bag to inform them that we were leaving but the old man’s request stopped me in my tracks.
“Can we sponsor your daughter's education? I was discussing it with my wife after we have observed you for a while. It will make us happy to do so. Please let’s support you.” He looked like he meant well but I felt insulted.
“Do they think we are beggars?” I was irritated by their self importance. Must people with disabilities be considered lowlifes? Or could it be because of my appearance. It was baby who wanted to eat out so l did not feel the need to overdress. I had casually packed my long curly afro in a puffy bun and worn a fitted faded Jean with a tank top. I was expecting to see anyone familiar so I chose my favourite bangle-like earrings forgetting that they were already losing their colour. Did this paint the picture of a struggling mum especially not with my glowing skin? I know I take extra care when it comes to caring for my skin.
It was Bébé’s fault. The way she was eating I could feel my fury discolouring my face. They probably think we might be struggling to eat but then would a struggling mum be able to afford a meal in a restaurant at the centre of the the Island? I started to write on a paper that we were doing fine and did not need their support when a towering presence cast a shadow on the paper before me. I looked up slowly and Pappy was standing there looking as stunned as I was.
“Meet our son, Papilo.” The old man announced, ignorant of the fact that a fresh storm was brewing.
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