I still remember the first day I stepped into that house. It was a Sunday evening. We had finished taking supper and dad asked me to pack my belongings, he had spoken to an old friend and I could stay with his old friend to write my final exams. It would be just for a few months.

I was hesitant about the entire relocation business. But upon reflection, I realized what a great relief it was going to be. Each day I got home very late from school because we had relocated and our new place was very far from my school. My siblings were taken to a new school in our new neighborhood but because I had registered for my final exams, I had to stay back and finish before joining the rest of the family.

I could hardly open my book to read or study anything in it because everyday, I got home very late and exhausted. The long distance to school was financially draining my parents who at that time were already stretched beyond their means from several expenditures on their necks.

It was a short notice. But it was too good an opportunity to let it slip by. Quickly I got my smelly clothes and old shoes pressed into one dusty bag.

The impending exams had taken central place on my mind that nothing else mattered. My hygiene can wait. My health can wait. My dirty clothes can wait. My smelly mouth can wait. My bushy and unkempt hair can wait.

After the exams they’ll all be catered for. 

Girls seem to keep their eyes on my teeth when I spoke. And kissing was definitely not on their minds. Girls looked at my teeth as if they were morphing into those of a dinosaur, horror spelt all over their face. They seem to say with their looks, “please, do something about your personal hygiene”. Of course there were the blunt ones who told me in the face what I needed to do. And not in private.

But on this occasion, I put my best self forward. Neat haircut, some perfume, clean pair of sandals and ironed clothes. I got some toothpaste to tone down the storm. It was it a fine day and nothing must spoil the calm.

We drove through the empty streets, so typical of Sundays, all the way to our old neighborhood where Mr. Okpoti lived. That was dad’s friend he spoke about that I was going to live with.

Dad honked. No response. Those inside must have assumed it was a passing vehicle because the house was close to the main road. So he honked and honked. A little louder this time. The huge gates rattled, a head popped up at the gate looking at our car for some seconds before hurrying to part the huge gates. Our car slid in.

The host and his wife were out by now, it seemed they were expecting us. A smile bigger than their lips hovered around their mouths. They appeared very nice people, though the man’s smile appeared to me exaggerated to impress.

The teenager who opened the gate for us helped me with my luggage to my new room, a room to myself, with a desk for studying and a comfortable bed.

Very clean room. I wasn’t used to clean rooms. My room was always messy. Now a pig was in a clean sty. I had to live up to expectation.

“Mr. Okpoti, this is my son I spoke to you about.” dad introduced after the pleasantries.

“Oh, OK. You’re welcome,” he said looking at me.

“Thank you, sir!” I responded.

“You’re welcome.” his wife repeated.

“Thank you, ma” I responded.

“When is your exams? “ Mr. Okpoti asked.

” In April. April 20.” I supplied the answer, finding it odd that he was asking of when my stay will end when I had just arrived. Perhaps, there was no harm in the question. Maybe he was just curious. Maybe he had to ask.

His wife rose to get me some food which I preferred taking it to my room to eat. I wasn’t used to sitting at the dinning table, especially when eyes were staring. In my room I could devour the food as I please without any nosy bitch reminding me of table manners.

From my room, I overheard bits of their conversations which had now switched from school matters to church stuff and later politics.

It was getting dark and my parents had to leave. As I helped the teenager open the gates, I began to feel odd and a bit lonely. The host waved as my parents’ car was retreating.

“Be a good boy” Mother said as the car reached where I stood by the gate.

“OK” I said loudly over the noisy car engine.

My first time outside home, the beginning of my weaning process.