Kathrine: I’m An Orphan But I Won’t Do It
– Episode 23
I couldn’t believe it – my uncle was calling me after a whole month of cold silence. My heart raced as I stared at my phone, wondering why he was reaching out now.
It had been him who’d refused to help with the money my mom needed for her breast cancer treatment. All because he had demanded something unthinkable from me, something I had stood my ground against, and as a result, I lost my Mom to cancer.
The memories flooded back, and I felt a mix of ænger, sadness, and confusion. I decided not to pick up his call. I watched as my phone rang and then finally stopped. But he was persistent; he called again. I silenced my phone and tried to sleep, hoping to escape the memories that his call had stirred up.
Morning came, and I woke up to a text message from him. My heart sank as I read his words. He accused me of snubbing him and losing respect for him. The aúdãcity! He even had the nerve to mõçk my mom’s dēãth, blaming it on my refusal to comply with his s!ck demands. The pain was unbearable, and I deleted the message in frustration. How could he be so hēartlēss?
My mom’s letter had opened up a whole new layer of my past. She had been married into a wealthy family, but they had cast her aside, accusing her of causing my dad’s dēãth.
They even fired my grandmother, who had worked as an accountant in their company. The story was painful, and I understood that there was still a lot for me to discover about my family’s past.
But some things were better left unknown. I was glad my mom hadn’t mentioned my grandparents in her letter. It saved me from more heartache, although I couldn’t help but despise them for what they had done to my mom and, indirectly, to me.
Putting my chaotic thoughts aside, I readied myself for another workday. I was committed to concentrating on improving my life, even if I had to hold back the emotions that were ready to overwhelm me.
I had made up my mind about something. Despite Mrs. Abigail’s kind offer of transport money, I was going to board buses to work. I wanted to save any extra money for more urgent needs. So, I left home at an ungodly hour – 4:30 am – to beat the notorious Lagos traffic and ensure I’d be at the salon by 7:30 am.
When I arrived at the salon, about 15 stylists were already bustling around, getting things ready for the day. I joined them in their morning cleanup routine, quietly observing and learning how they meticulously tidied up the space.
They suggested that I watch and learn for a week before I could actively participate in the cleaning schedule. It was a chance for me to prove my dedication.
As customers began to trickle in, seeking various beauty services, I felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. The salon quickly filled with activity – hair styling, makeup, nails, and more. It was a whirlwind of colors, scissors snipping, and brushes sweeping across faces.
In the midst of the busy surroundings, Mrs. Abigail made her appearance. She appeared glowing in a white chiffon blouse combined with pink palazzo pants.
A feeling of warmth enveloped my heart as she greeted me with kindness. Her being there had a method of soothing my anxiety and giving me confidence that I was where I belonged.
She approached me and asked how my night had been. I replied with a simple “fine,” not wanting to burden her with my troubles. She introduced me to the salon’s product specialist, and I realized that the day was about to get even more interesting.
Mrs. Abigail explained that the product specialist would teach me about various cosmetics and hair products. I was going to learn about different hair types and textures, as well as the procedures and products needed for each. It was an overwhelming but exciting prospect.
Besides learning about the products, Mrs. Abigail had arranged for me to follow the stylists during the day. I would observe and gain knowledge from them as they performed their expertise on the customers. Haircuts, applying makeup, and every other detail – I was going to soak up everything.
But Mrs. Abigail’s generosity didn’t end there. She had a vision for my growth beyond just technical skills. She mentioned that she’d periodically teach me about customer service and the difficulties of running a successful salon. Her belief in my potential gave me a renewed sense of purpose.
She spoke of the possibility that my learning journey might be shorter than three years, depending on my dedication and peculiarity. I was humbled by her faith in me and motivated to give my all.
The day continued, and I completely engaged myself in this fresh realm of beauty and imagination. The salon was vibrant with energy, as stylists and clients united in a dance of change. I moved through the bustling scene, taking in each element and every method.
A fresh chapter was starting, and I was committed to welcoming it wholeheartedly, leaving the darkness of my past behind.
As the day progressed and the customers became fewer, I at last found a moment to relax. In this calmer period, I noticed Mrs. Abigail making her way towards the spa room. Gathering my courage, I went up to her and gently asked, “Ma’am, if you don’t mind, could I have a brief conversation with you, please?”
She gazed at me with kindness in her eyes, offering a warm smile. “Certainly, Kathrine. What’s on your mind?”
Taking a deep breath, I shared that I needed her approval to take a short break from work the next day. I explained that I wanted to visit the bank to cash the check my mom had left me before it expired. The money was my last hope of survival, and I didn’t want to lose out on it.
Mrs. Abigail paid close attention, nodding in comprehension. “I understand. That’s a valid reason. You don’t need to worry, Kathrine. Tomorrow, I’ll accompany you to the bank. It’s a substantial amount, and it’s always better to have someone with you in such situations.”
A sense of relief flooded over me. Her willingness to stand by me was truly comforting. I sincerely thanked her, appreciative of her empathy.
The next day, she arrived punctually at 10 am in her blue Toyota RAV4 SUV. We headed to Guarantee Trust Bank, and upon arrival, Mrs. Abigail’s presence seemed to carry a weight that made the process seamless.
With her influence, I managed to cash the check without much difficulty. However, a minor problem arose – my student account couldn’t accommodate the full 500,000 naira. She used her connections to ensure that a regular savings account was opened for me on the spot.
The entire process took less than an hour. I was amazed by the power and influence Mrs. Abigail exercised beyond the salon. With the money securely deposited into my new account, we left the bank, and I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude towards her.
However, as we started our journey back to the salon, Mrs. Abigail’s phone rang. I couldn’t help but notice the caller’s name on her screen, which read “Victoria.” It left me feeling anxious.
She answered the call, and even though I couldn’t clearly hear the other side of the conversation, fragments of words reached my ears. “Yes, yes, now? Alright, I’m on my way there immediately.”
After she hung up, she turned to me with a gentle smile. “Kathrine, I apologize, but I need to make a quick stop to visit a friend. It won’t take long, and then we can head back to the salon.”
My heart skipped a beat, and my chest tightened. An indescribable uneasiness settled in, and I managed to stutter, “O… Okay, Ma’am.”
As we turned and made our way to meet Victoria, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled through my mind. What was the urgency behind this sudden meeting with Victoria? And why was it Victoria again? Was my dream about to come true in a different dimension?
To be continued ✍️