Mediocrity | Okorie Jennifer Adaugo

You know, words of my pops still rings a bell.

When you don’t have any breath, it’s hard to speak; I’m searching through the piles of words in my head, picking the most important ones. And they all have a cost.

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They all didn’t get it. It was on a rainy day, too quiet to shake the sadness off.

"There isn’t anything you get right, or is there?" 

"All you do never makes progress, and sure your mom would be disappointed in you wherever she is. You suck, Thomas, if you read through my history, not just mine; my family history. We have a Name, and I’m expecting my son to sustain the same.  It isn’t just a movie if you think you could always change a channel. I do them all, and you know what I’m expecting from you?"

"No pops!" Thomas replied. 

"Build us up again, we've got no family bloodline, no fame, no legacy, and you call yourself a son, my son, you call yourself a man. Come on; you know what men do? Do you know how a son carries his family? You’re not that son I prayed. You are not the son I asked God to give us. I guess your mother asked, well for you but now where is she? Oh! Tracy, may you rest well. The one thing I know is, I see no person in you. Your future is a side piece. Do what you've got to do, either way, you might not still hit the number."

You know, words of my pops still rings a bell.

When you don’t have any breath, it’s hard to speak; I’m searching through the piles of words in my head, picking the most important ones. And they all have a cost.

Pops words offended me; I believe if Mom were here, she’d shake it off my feet.

People didn’t want to know that I could be more. When I graduated from high school, they were always pessimistic about who I grew up to be. Grams supported Pop even when she knew I was trying to be my best self by picking up a job at the book shop.

I was an artist, I knew I couldn’t stop drawing and making paintings because that was what I was good at, but pops didn’t see it as anything. He wanted me to be a lawyer or the president, and it doesn’t just happen as soon as you’re awake.

Can you take out words accumulated in your head like garbage? I wish I could.

A word is a lot. 

I wake up few times to see a handy-dandy list Pops made for me to get, I don’t have a good-paying job, and my paintings aren’t helping either way because that already Pops sees as trash, and I can’t possibly make a thing out of anything.

I am Thomas Wise, a young man who quietly saw himself through high school that most people feel pops; ever since Mom died, I think I lost my strength and encouragement.

To all my surprises, each time I wake, I see the day the same as yesterday. Pops came up with some stories of our daily activities, and his words are always part of my daily chores.

Today it was my words against pops.

"I’m sorry, but how can you call your duty statement of apology? You always feel my decision is bold. Dad!"

"You might become the end of vegetables, and I’m trying to help you restructure your values system, which I get from you." Pops spoke to Thomas. 

"I love you, pops; I’m trying to be more potent than an excuse; give me a chance to prove that. I might not be perfect, but I’m good, so I’m going to be needing your trust and a push forward, but if that alone, I can’t get from you. I’ll hit the number." 

Thomas walked out on pops and never appeared home for close to three months, and Pop wasn’t worried.

On a Tuesday night, Pops turned on the TV to see a movie, and on the first channel, he saw an image that looks so much like himself; he moved to want to know more, so he relaxed a bit. Pops just realized that the person who made that painting of him was his son, and there he was declared as the winner.

It was a world competition that he signed up for and kept following up, and over 60million dollars was the price tag, and Thomas happened to go home with it.

Thomas went back home to let his pops see his progress.

"I saw it." Pops said. 

"I hit the number Pops!" Thomas wore a great smile on his face.

Pops cried, walked up to him, tapped his shoulder, and said.

"Son, indeed it wasn’t useless after all. I’m proud of you." 

That was all he wanted to hear from a father, from his father. So he said to pops.

"I hit the number Pops!"

"Yes, you did hit the number at the end of it all. I’m proud of you, son." They both smiled and hugged each other. 

"I know I made you feel less of a person." Pops said. "And, I’m sorry." 

"Learning is a gift"  Thomas Wise.

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Bio:

My name is Okorie Jennifer Adaugo, I hail from Abia state, ohafia precisely.

I’m a girl with colorful  dreams, having my own drama. So I obviously can tag along.