MAKING ME

EPISODE 2
  The way he laughed, you would think there was a stand up comedian performing in the house, or his favorite comedian Kevin Hart. My mother just stared at him as he tried helplessly to catch his breath. My father was the clown of the house. He always made us laugh and he laughed at almost everything. My mother even told me he laughed hard when she told him she was pregnant. Well, he was at it again. I was sure he was going to make fun of me. We literally waited five minutes for him to catch his breath. "C'mon", he finally said with water in his eyes from laughing too hard. "And you couldn't throw a single punch? Not one?", he burst into another round of wild laughter. My mother took off one leg of her slippers and flung it at him. "Tunde be serious for once!", she yelled. "Okay okay", he said wiping his eyes with the back of his palm. "But you have to learn how to stand for yourself champ. Nobody is gonna do that for you." I think that made my mother more angry because her tone increased. "Tunde are you okay?! What if he fainted? Or was hospitalized eh?"
"You take things too seriously dear, it was just a face wound", he said as he stood up from the couch to face me. "Champ, this weekend I'll take you to the gym. You need to build those muscles of yours", he said and took off into the passage leading to the bedrooms as the second leg of my mother's slippers went flying at him.
  Aunty Wunmi, my father's immediate younger sister arrived the States from Nigeria today and I heard my father tell my mother some days back that she was on a business trip and would be staying for two weeks. I had seen her once before now, three years ago when she came for her first business trip. I think it's natural for every family in Africa or Nigeria to have one female sibling that just talks a lot. God! I've not seen anyone who talks as much as my aunt Wunmi. The last time she came when I was ten, she talked so much to the extent that I began to thank God I wasn't living in Nigeria because I thought everybody living there talked as much as she did.
  By four o'clock after I was back from school, the door bell rang and I went to get the door. My father stood there with my aunt Wunmi, a stunning replica of her elder brother. Well, only facially. They were a complete opposite in everything else. I got my lanky body frame from my father, but not my height. Aunt Wunmi was a short, chubby woman. Her face lit up immediately she saw me and my eyes immediately focused on her lips, those thick lips clothed in purple lipstick just like the last time. They parted. "Americana!!", she screamed in a high pitched voice just like my mother's. She never called me my name. "How are you eh?", she asked as she pulled me to herself, gave me the tightest hug I had ever received, pushed me back to take a better look before giving me an even tighter hug. "You are now a big boy o. What is your mother feeding you? Bawo lara e?" I knew she asked me something in Yoruba and the look on her face made it clear she was expecting an answer. I just looked at her and smiled. "Eh? Egbon mi", she turned to face my father with arms akimbo like she was preparing to fight him. "So you have not taught this boy our language yet. What are the two of you waiting for eh?" My father just smiled, told her there was still time and we all went inside. A high pitched scream met another high pitched scream and my mother and my aunt Wunmi started chatting like two long lost sisters reuniting for the first time.
  I have a bad habit of eavesdropping on my parents conversation. That night, my father and aunt Wunmi were discussing and I decided to pick up my bad habit. My mother was in the kitchen. It seems they were talking about me because I heard 'Americana' and there was laughter. I was sure my father was telling her about my encounters with the eleventh grade bullies. "But why is he like that? So quiet", she asked my father. " You were not quiet like this when you were his age o", she added. "I believe he would adjust at his own time", my father said. "My last son, Jide is his age and that one is as wild as anything you can think of. You know, it wouldn't be a bad idea if our 'Americana' goes back with me to Nigeria. All these 'ajebutter' would shake off", she said looking serious. I felt a knot in my stomach. Aunt Wunmi had a way of making my father succumb to whatever she feels is right. The last time she came, she told my father I wasn't old enough to have a phone. I don't still have a phone till date. I almost fainted when my father said he would discuss the topic with my mother. If he didn't say no now, there was no 'no' later.