On that day, I was invited by my good neighbour for a sleepover. Mr Andrew’s son is one of those few people I have remaining, that I can call a friend.
We devoured on the delicious meal that was meticulously served by Kevin’s mother. At that time, his father had not checked in yet. I could actually sense the sensation of concern that pervaded that dining room that had pictures of this beautiful family hanging in African-themed frames.
“Thanks for the meal Mrs Andrew! It was sumptuous! ”
“There’s no problem John, you know that you’re always welcomed to this family. You’re like one of us. ”
“I’ll wait for Kevin’s father, let Kevin lead you to his room. And good night! ”
I quickly replied back and walked upstairs with this good ally of mine.
Scarcely had two hours elapsed when we heard the final roars of an engine that was almost getting stopped.It was Mr. Andrew. I quickly woke Kevin who was fast asleep and snoring in a way that surely pissed me off to inform him that his father had arrived.
“OK, it is fine! I’ll meet him tomorrow!”He said in mid-sleep .
That was a rare gesture! I thought. Why can’t he even go to say hi to his father? Who knows, maybe he might have brought him something that will evoke in him some positive interest if not enthusiasm?
I rolled back the fragrance-laden duvets and tried to catch sleep.
Suddenly, my heart was somewhat filled with trepidation. I knew something was not right! (I usually trust my guts. Trust me!)
I heard an air-piercing yell from downstairs. It sounded like Mrs. Andrews.
“Kelvin! Come here! ”
Was I having a Deja Vu at night? This was ridiculous!
Kevin was alarmed and stormed out of bed to behold whatever that was transpiring downstairs.
I was caught between two stools. Should I go or let them sought themselves out?
I could actually not arrive at a decision.
The screaming became persistent even after I assumed that Kevin was already there.
I was worried! Why did I come for this stupid sleepover? I sobbed.
“John! ” Yelled a voice familiar to Kevin’s.
Even as I write this article, I still remember the awful scenes that I saw.
Mr. Andrew, a man I had respected, thought of as a role model, was drunk, his pants were loosely hanging mid-thigh, and he was strangling his wife!
This was insane! Mrs. Andrews however, held the phone that I occasionally saw her husband with. On closer examination, I realized that it was her husband’s smartphone. I was shocked if not flabbergasted!
What demon was in this man whose teeth were set on edge?
…to be continued