The Tattoo

 CHAPTER TEN

A START

Uju followed her mother into the ICU with careful steps, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was fear, anger, or a confusing mixture of both. The room smelled of antiseptics, and the steady beeping of the machines filled the silence.

On the hospital bed, her father lay frail and weak, his eyes closed as if lost in deep thought. His skin, once vibrant, had dulled with age, and his once strong frame looked shrunken beneath the hospital sheets.

Uju took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever was to come.

“Ifeanyi,” her mother called softly. “Ne nu, Look who is here.”

Her father’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he just stared at Uju. His gaze was unreadable—shock, maybe disbelief. His throat moved as if he wanted to speak, but no words came out.

Uju stood rooted to the ground, unsure of what to do. Should she greet him? Move closer? Turn around and walk out?

Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke.

“Ujunwa?” His voice was hoarse, cracked with age and weakness.

“Yes, Daddy,” she answered, her voice almost a whisper.

A long pause. Then, he let out a slow, shuddering sigh. “You came.”

Uju nodded stiffly. “I did.”

Another silence. It stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Her mother, standing by the side of the bed, adjusted his pillow with unnecessary focus, as though trying to avoid being part of the conversation.

Her father cleared his throat. “Kedu, how…how have you been?”

Uju swallowed. She hadn’t expected him to ask about her life. After sixteen years of silence, how was she supposed to summarize her entire existence to him?

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I work with a construction company in Abuja”

“Good,” he murmured, nodding slightly. “That’s…that’s good.”

Another pause.

“And your daughter?” he asked after a moment.

Uju blinked. For a second, she thought she had imagined it. The same man who had thrown her out of his house for keeping the pregnancy was now asking about her daughter?

“She’s fine,” she answered, keeping her tone neutral and wondering how he knew the sex of her child.

Her father nodded again but said nothing more.

Uju didn’t know what else to say, so she focused on the one thing that felt easier—his health.

“How are you feeling? What exactly happened?”

Her mother finally spoke, but only to say, “He needs to eat first.” She reached for a bowl of porridge on the table beside the bed.

Uju watched as her father shook his head weakly, refusing the food.

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

Ijeego sighed but didn’t argue. She simply set the bowl back down and adjusted the bedcovers around him.

Uju turned back to her father. “You didn’t answer me.”

A tired smile played on his lips. “Nka, Old age, Uju. It catches up with everyone.”

Uju frowned, unsatisfied with the vague response. “Mummy said you were in critical condition.”

His face remained calm, but there was something in his eyes—something that looked like guilt. “I was. But I feel better now.”

Another long silence settled over them. There was so much to say, yet neither of them could bring themselves to say it.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve grown into a fine woman.”

Uju felt a lump form in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down.

Her mother, still standing by the bed, looked at Uju for the first time since they entered the room. There was something in her gaze too—an unreadable emotion that flickered for just a second before she turned away.

The conversation was light, but the tension in the air was thick. So many things left unsaid. So many wounds still open.

And yet, here they were, sitting together after sixteen long years.

It was a start.

                                             CHAPTER ELEVEN