Dedicated to CuteyBola42❤❤

•

As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. --Psalms 42:1 (KJV)

Posi was seated in her office as usual, penning down details for a new painting she had been given to do. It seemed the portrait painting side of her studio was beginning to pick up and she was glad to do it.

Her phone rang out with I am titanium playing out. Ever since she had made the decision to make Jesus the Lord over her life, she had been feeling, for lack of a better word, like she needed to forgive her parents. She was just too wound up to take the first step. It had even seemed like her mother had sensed her reluctance because she had also stopped calling.

She's calling now though. She dropped her drawing pen and took in a deep breath. The hour is here.

On the second ring, she picked up. "Hello."

She felt a pause and some seconds of silence before she heard, "Ayomiposi."

A single word. Her name.

Just the mention of her name on her mother's lips and she felt the weight of her thirty-three years in it.

Posi didn't know what to feel. She didn't know whether to be angry or sad or indifferent. So she kept quiet too.

"Hello, Ayomiposi. Are you there?" She heard her mum breath out. She had even forgotten what her mum's voice sounded like.

Her eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall, she replied, "Yes, ma. Good afternoon, ma."

"Good afternoon, my child. How are you? How have you been? How's your work? How's everything?" Her mother rushed on.

"I'm fine, ma. Everything is fine too. What is it, ma?"

Of course, her mother wasn't expecting her to be cordial, was she? It had been almost five years since they last had any form of interaction. She surely wasn't expecting her to be fine with her sudden reappearance, even if it was in Telecommunications Land. Not after everything.

She heard the sigh. "Yes. I mean, nothing, dear. I just wanted to ask if I could maybe see you. I need to talk to you. There are some things I need to tell you."

Things? What things? How I am not the child you wanted? Or how I am not good enough?

Be still, Daughter. Be still. There was that voice again.

Taking in a calming breath, she spoke. "Things? Okay, ma. How do we do it? I can't come home now. I have a lot of work currently."

"Actually, I'm in Lagos. I just came in yesterday. So, we can meet up somewhere. I mean, only if that's alright with you."

Posi wanted to ask what she came to do in Lagos and who she was staying with. But she refrained from asking. Too much water had gone under the bridge and it had weakened the bridge to the point of collapse. There was no point playing the perfect daughter role now.

"Okay, ma. I will call you soon, ma."

"Alright, my daughter. It's so good to finally hear your voice. Take care of yourself. Bye, dear."

And whose fault is that?

"Hmm, yeah. Bye, ma."

Once the phone call ended, Posi released the breath she hadn't known she was holding and held her face in her hands.

"Help me to forgive. Help me to move on from the past," she whispered and sniffled simultaneously.

And help me to love her. Them.

*****

"It's almost like she's paying me back for my previous behaviour, isn't it? I mean, we also took a while to schedule our first meeting."

Tayo was saying to Kazeem who seemed to be watching every nuance his boss gave off.

"I'm not sure, sir. But her secretary finally called to fix up the meeting. It will be next weekend. And I have the list of clothes, accessories and all you will need with me. And she also said to inform them if we have any challenge with any thing. It's a good thing because the P.R team just informed me of another interview. So, we can make use of the pictures she takes. Well, provided they are good enough."

"Of course, they will be good," Tayo said with a fervour that he was sure Kazeem didn't miss.

Clearing his throat, he readjusted in his seat and smiled as he remembered the very brown-eyed artist. She definitely took her work serious and she was a lovely person.

When she isn't cold and stomping off.

He understood why she had walked away that day when it had seemed like they were relaxed in each other's company. And he felt like he owed her some sort of explanation. He just wasn't sure how he'd go about it.

At the shoot maybe.

Kazeem shifting in his seat reminded him that his P.A was still in the room.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "Any other thing?"

"The magazine edition of The Next Shot was just released. I wasn't sure if you had seen it yet. They did a fantastic job on it. And you looked regal on the pages, sir," Kazeem praised enthusiastically.

Smiling, Tayo acknowledged the praise and asked to see the magazine.

*****

As Posi made her way home, she thought back on the past few days. It had been nothing short of amazing what letting God in had done for her. She was sleeping so well, without nightmares anymore. She felt lighter, literally. And finally, she felt enough.

Truly enough.

Like a parched soul, she had been consuming the word. Every leisure moment she had was spent studying her Bible which she had begun doodling in and she even highlighted her favourite verses. She listened to messages from her church, attended services consistently, asked her besties so many questions and most of all, she was getting the hang of praying.

It was almost like she had finally found the missing piece in her life. The perfect piece that held her life in the perfect balance.

No, she wasn't jaded about everything being rosy from there on, but she was confident that she wasn't alone anymore. There was Someone Who cared enough to have her back always. Always.

She had even been having these strange moments in which she'd hear a voice as clear as day speaking to her. She knew it wasn't the old nasally and creepy voices she used to hear.

This voice is different. I'll ask Funmi or Gerald about it.

She didn't miss her old life. She didn't miss the nightmares or the loneliness or the uncertainty of the past. She had found a never-drying well she could drink from and she was never letting go. Never.

Call her now.

Posi's mum had been doing all she could to get to her child and she had given up calling her for the past few weeks. Sometimes, she even felt like maybe she was calling the wrong number. Other times, she felt like she deserved the silent treatment.

She had come to Lagos to see an oncologist as advised by her good friend. Plus, she decided to use the opportunity to visit her.

Since then, she had been having a prompting to call Posi. Other times, it was to pray for her and that urge was so strong some nights ago. She had prayed till she felt a relief in her spirit.

The prompting came again. And she heeded. She knew she had done a lot of damage and she needed to help her child heal.

My only child. My daughter. My gift from God.

Picking up her phone, she dialled her number. It rang, no answer. She sighed.

I'll try again. Just one more time.

She dialled again and heard, "Hello."

She couldn't believe her ears. Her child picked her phone call. With all the love she could muster, she said, "Ayomiposi."