The Old Man's Debt.

The thing about Baba was that he had never apologised to anyone in sixty three years of living, Not once. Not to Mama when he missed her graduation because of a contract in Kaduna that ultimately fell through anyway, not to his younger brother Emeka when he borrowed money he never returned. Certainly not to Rotimi.

Rotimi knew this, which's why when his cousin called to say Baba wanted to see him, his first thought was to say he was busy, He was not busy he was just sitting in his flat in Surulere eating noodles and watching a movie he had already seen twice.. saying he was busy was easier than saying the truth, which was that he had not spoken to his father in four years and was not sure he wanted to start now.

He went to see Baba anyway because deep down he was still his fathers son.

The house in Ikorodu looked smaller than Rotimi remembered, the mango tree in the compound had lost most of its leaves, His Aunt Chisom met him at the gate, she squeezed his hand without saying a word, which said a lot.

Baba was in the living room sitting in his chair, He looked like himself, not as strong, more like a phone with a dying battery it was still the face but not as powerful as it used to be.

"Rotimi."

"Sir."

They stayed like that for a moment, the four years sitting between them like a third person in the room.

"Sit down."

Rotimi sat.

His father looked at his hands for a long time, Outside, a generator somewhere was coughing to life, a hawker was calling something in the distance, normal life, happening just outside the window, completely unbothered.

"I heard you got the promotion." Baba said finally.

"Three months ago. Yes."

"Good, that's good."

Rotimi said nothing, he had not driven forty minutes on Lagos road to talk about his promotion.

Another silence.....then

"That thing that happened, between us." His father's voice came out differently now, careful ,ike a man walking on ground he wasn't sure would hold him. "I have been thinking about it."

"Which part of it, sir?"

His father looked up then. Rotimi held the look.

"All of it." Baba said, "The way I talked to you, what I said about your choices, telling you that you were wasting your time, that you would not amount to anything doing that kind of work , "he stopped, pressed his lips together, "I said things I should not have said."

Rotimi felt something move in his chest, he had thought about this conversation many times, in the shower, on the bus , before he sleeps, He had thought about what he would say, how he would make his father feel bad for not speaking to him for long.

What came out was, "You told me I was an embarrassment."

"I know."

"In front of Mama, in front of everyone at Uncle Emeka's house."

"I know, Rotimi."

"I was twenty six. I had just started that job, I was proud of myself, " His voice was steady but only just, "You killed that in about five minutes."

His father nodded slowly like old men do when they are not arguing, when they are listening. "I was wrong " he said, his voice rough, "I was wrong. I was proud and I was afraid you would fail. I handled it the way my own father handled things by being hard of supportive." He breathed out. "That is not an excuse it's the truth."

Rotimi looked at his father, this proud man and felt something he did not expect to feel. Not forgiveness, not yet but the start of it, like a door opening, The generator outside settled into its rhythm.

"Okay," he said quietly.

Baba looked at him, "Okay?"

"I heard you." Rotimi stood up slowly. "That's where we start, I heard you."

He left the chair empty when he walked out, but he left the door open too.

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