Short story/Self
Does The Absentee Parent Belong to The VIP Table?
Part IV: Jordyn’s ex fooled, manipulated, and then dumped her. After a few decades, he appeared at the VIP table during his daughter’s wedding.
Our second serious argument came when I hired someone to clean our apartment before the holiday. Efa was furious that I could not clean the house on my days off. That was true; I worked three days in a nursing home, and cleaning houses was not my hobby.
My husband taught me that I was not a good woman. Good women cleaned their homes every hour and baked cookies every second, haha!
Continue to read parts II and III here.
Part IV
My green card arrived, and I passed the licensing exam. I was so happy, and he was pleased, too. He helped more around the house and mainly worked at night because he said the night paid more with less traffic.
We settled our differences, and I accepted him as he was. More importantly, I discovered my assumptions and looked forward to entering my pharmacy career. As my mom advised, I began to have strong feelings for my husband, and I did everything I could to focus on our family.
I had the best pregnancy and no issues at all.
After 42 weeks, I had a baby girl, Ariana, who was lovely and calm. I stared at my baby and saw my mom’s eyes. Efa was excited about our daughter, and we agreed to visit home with her. I couldn’t wait to see my family again.
Efa got tickets for us, and I was surprised he bought one for himself. He purchased business class tickets. That was nice for a three-month-old baby. He said, “I can’t be separated from my family for long. I will stay with you for two weeks and return to the US. Then you come later.” That sounded good to me and thoughtful of him.
Efa joining us was another shocker in our relationship. The original plan was for the baby and me to visit Nigeria for three months, and my mom would accompany us back to the US.
We arrived in Nigeria, and my brother picked us up from the airport and drove us about an hour to our hometown. Culturally, we should have headed to his parent’s home, but he insisted on going to my family, which was fine. My brother dropped us off and went back to his family.
I was thrilled to see my family, and they were so happy to see their first grandchild and all the celebrations followed.
We were tired and went to bed. Early the following day, Efa visited his good friend, Godwins, and asked me to prepare to go to his parent’s house in the evening. He left around eight in the morning, and at approximately noon, he was not back.
I felt terrible and checked my passport and green card. I did not see mine or the babies’. I was startled. Then I realized he fooled me again. I kept quiet, but my mom picked up on my energy and wondered what happened to Efa after 2 p.m.
My dad wondered what happened to him. “Has he been kidnapped or had an accident in his friend’s house?” he asked.
Hours passed, no show. I told my parents about the missing passport, and maybe Efa had dumped me and the baby. My parents were terrified.
My dad sent my youngest brother to Efa’s parents’ house. His mom, Lola, said, “Efa came in the morning and told us that he was visiting his business partner nearby, and he would be back with his family later in the evening. He only spent less than fifteen minutes with us.”
My mother-in-law rushed to our home and saw me and the baby. She held the baby and said, “Where has he gone?” Everyone was shocked by his disappearance, but I was not. He continuously blindsided me because I was a fool the second time.
Anyway, anyone can be fooled and manipulated. The worst was I had been out of the Nigerian workforce for a while. What could I do now?
I was stranded in Nigeria for about a year without hearing from Efa. To his parents’ credit, they provided emotional and financial support to their granddaughter. However, they did not discuss their son and what he told them. I heard that he called his parents weekly.
Why did Efa leave me and his daughter without an explanation?
I kept asking myself what I did wrong and what kind of human he was. What was going on in his life? I felt terrible, resentful, and depressed. In short, I hated him and what he represented.
According to what he told someone, “Jordyn was too much for me. I didn’t want her to stay in the US because I brought her here, so I took her back.”
Many people called him a chicken and a coward. I called him a rat.
Efa was a small man. His parents were outstanding citizens of the community, and his siblings too. This apple fell millions of miles from the tree. I contemplated returning to the US or continuing my new job in Nigeria.
I chose to return to the US.
I got a police report for the lost passport and green card; I reapplied for new green cards. It took several months before I got them back.
I had an aunt who lived in Sugarcane, TX. She asked me to come over if I still wanted to live in the US.
After two years, I left my daughter with my parents and returned to the US. I worked in a nursing home for a few months before I got a job in the leading pharmacy in the country and moved to Atlanta, GA.
Life was simple, and I made new friends.
I felt relieved; however, sometimes, I revisited the pain and rejection I felt when Efa left me and the baby in Nigeria. I kept asking myself what went wrong. What was going on in his life then?
I let it go and focused on the lessons and how to improve my life. I worked for two years, bought a house, and brought my daughter to the US. It was time for her to start preschool, and my mom joined to help.
V.
My spirit was down the day my daughter arrived, and my thoughts of Efa returned. My daughter looked exactly like her dad. I became concerned about liking my daughter. How could I like this person? It seemed Efa was living in my house — mannerisms, intelligence, and weirdness were there for me to see every minute.
My mom is a wise woman, and one day, she commented, “Efa will always be your business partner. I shouted at her. “God forbid. No way, I’ll let go of that business.” She quickly pushed back and suggested, “Look forward, my dear; your future is bright. Business is your child. Unfortunately, Efa is here for you to see every day.”
I screamed and sobbed. Then I saw Mom’s tears travel down her full-faced makeup, and we hugged.
She quietly shared, “My first husband dated my bridemaid after our honeymoon. I caught them having sex in our guest bedroom near the kitchen. And I divorced him right away without an argument or seeking advice. I carried that pain every day for three years until I met my second husband. I married him to relieve the pain, and it didn’t last long.”
I almost passed out 😵My mom’s confession shocked me because she had never detailed this part of her life. I knew she did not have close girlfriends. All her friends were family members and older women.
Mom cleaned her face, sat straight, squared her shoulder, and continued, “You’ll be fine. It is almost five years, and I pray you forgive yourself first and find a place in your heart to love and like your daughter. I feel terrible for not listening to your suspicion. I’m so sorry. Ariana is like her grandmother, Lola, and I believe her dad is like that, too. That woman…turned architecture business upside down in the era where most women were terrified to be themselves. She made name for herself and inspired many women of my generation. She is a broken record.”
I listened to my mom that day, made peace with myself, and worked every day to like my daughter with what she had — a piece of her dad. It was not easy, but I worked hard with what I had.
Time flew, and my daughter developed into a beautiful and brilliant young woman. We traveled the world together and had fun.
I met a kind man, Abram, on one of our trips, and we dated. My daughter asked me to find her father a few months after I started dating.
I agreed.
When she turned thirteen, I hired a private investigator to find her dad, and I took him to court when they found him. I saw an unsettled man standing before the judge in the crowded family court. He told the judge that his ex-wife ruined his finances, and he was the sole breadwinner with his third wife.
He explained that he had married his second wife for ten years, and they had four children under ten. The two older children were in an expensive private school, which he was responsible for as his ex. and his third wife had no income.
The judge looked at his finances, listened to my story, and asked him, “Do you know what you did to her? I can’t send you to jail because the state will be responsible for your four children and ex.”
I felt disgusted by what I heard. After taking a deep breath, I felt terrible for the man I knew and was shocked at how delinquent his great finances were.
I could not say anything and concluded that my child would rather not be a part of his trouble at that time. The man’s finances were in the red with all the money he had to pay for his second wife and care for his third wife, a housewife.
Eva almost ruined my life, and I didn’t want him to ruin my daughter.
Second, Efa’s financial situation was a lesson for me — people struggled to make a few hundred dollars a month but could squander thousands or millions in a minute.
Efa did not pay child support or try to support his first child. However, his parents helped their granddaughter as much as they could.
When my daughter turned sixteen, she reconnected with her dad through Facebook. They tried to work out their relationship, but he was ashamed and chickened out.
Last year, my daughter got engaged and invited him to the wedding. At first, he said no, but his third wife encouraged him to participate in the event. I wondered where the third wife was all these years.
I removed myself from the man’s drama and invited my family to the happy event. Efa attended the wedding with his third wife, who looked like an uninvited guest at the VIP table.
Did he belong to the VIP table? Our culture dictates that he belonged there, and I chose not to cause any trouble.
I feel so happy for my daughter and the good human being she is.
That was my story, and I hope my son-in-law treats my daughter well.
When they show you who they are the first time, believe them.
A version of the story was first published on another website.
Disclaimer
Jordyn’s story is human — positive and negative in each character. The characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by me.
A human story like this one returns next time. Have fun and happy reading. Thanks for being here.
A version of the story was first published on another website.
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