My father was gone.

I searched the house, but none of my family was home. Outside, on the veranda, stood our neighbour, Auntie Cece. 

“Come, your mother has asked me to watch you,” is all she said. Auntie Cece’s house always smelled like red stew. I’d lick my lips whenever the smell of food drifted from her house into ours and wondered if she had a restaurant hidden inside her house. Often times, I overheard her daughter, Ama, clap her hands and sing along to loud Akwaba music that rang through the walls. An only child, Ama was the same age as me, robust, and as loud as can be.

Following Auntie Cece’s order, I entered her house, I sat at the dining table. Reluctant. Ama was carrying Abena and tickling her cheeks. Once she saw me, she lifted her face.

 “My mummy told me the ambulance came and carried your father and your mother was crying,” she announced at the top of her voice. I held my breath and turned to Auntie Cece. She threw her hands in the air and marched over to Ama, twisting her ear until it turned red.       

“This child will kill me! Who told you what?”

“But, Mummy, that’s what you said.” Ama began to cry.

“Quiet, before I give you a dirty slap! You have a sharp mouth! You can’t keep a secret for one second!” She shoved Ama to the side, and Ama’s crying grew. 

Auntie Cece’s gaze fell to the ground. She exhaled. “Cudjoe, your father was rushed to Maitama Hospital. Everything will be all right.”

I bent my head over her dining table and Auntie Cece drew closer to rub my back. I didn’t lift my head. My mouth filled with salty saliva. I could still hear Ama sobbing from the living room.

The antiseptic smell of Maitama Hospital irritated my nose. Unlike Asaba Field, my school, our church, and Kweshi central market, the hospital was a foreign place, as strange as a cemetery. I walked beside my mother, following the sign that led to the Oncology Ward. Oncology. I wondered what this word meant. We came to an abrupt stop at room twelve. My mother gently pushed open the door. I expected to see my father slumped in a hospital bed, shivering under heavy blankets. But he was sitting up, and as we entered the room, he gave us a wide smile.

I ran to his side and reached for a hug. “Dad, are you coming home today?”