The Irony of a Lonely Silence 1.

     She was seated at the balcony threading the melon seeds her mother bought from the market which arrived alongside with a continuous complain by her mother about the price of everything sold in the market. "This APC change people have started again o! I do not know what change they have created, it is not good o! Ah! Honey!" Referring to her husband, in a more serious way, the father of her children. Who on earth could be more important to a woman than that? He was seated on a couch, watching soccer and reading a newspaper; he believed two was better than one supporting it with his life in the his village years back which Gbemisola and her mother manoeuvred one way or the other because it lasted for quite a number of minutes most times.
"Honey! You won't believe,  a cup of melon now cost 150 naira as against 100 naira". Gbemi's father nodded in surprise or maybe a cared pretence, something parts of his brain had connived to do many times.
     Threading melon seeds was Gbemi's worst chore in the home but she seemed not to care. At least, not this time. She was physically present in the balcony, one part of her brain devoted to the threading but other parts were far gone! She took really deep sighs at intervals, a sign she was in deep thoughts.
     She jumped up pouring the threaded melon seeds into the bowl containing the shells when her mother screamed her name, "GBEMISOLA!". Unknown to her that was the third time. She stuttered "em, em, ma!". "You want to sleep there ehn?" her mother shouted. "Sorry mom" she replied trying to cocoon under the canopy of their friendly relationship characterised by American style English.
She hurriedly picked the melon seeds and dashed to the kitchen. She assisted her mother flashing made up smiles from time to time. Her mother was pleased. She had always been a good girl, obedient, loving, caring, godly and kept a good relationship with her mother. Her elder sister and brothers were out of the  country in search of greener pastures.
When they were done, she washed the plates and ate her food the same manner she threaded the melon seeds.  On her way to her savage - her room, her father invited her over to the sitting room, her mother was also seated.
Her heart began to race,  she could feel it, it was pounding really hard. She sat without comfort, she was sure she would not experience that for quite sometime, it was not necessary and she was not sure it will be for a long time.
She tried sitting far from them but her dad pulled her close to himself. She was this time shaking. She had not been good at keeping secrets for a long time. "Ogini? Hope all is well"her father asked. She tried speaking but a sound would not just come! She tried the second time but it was worse, random thoughts came pouring into her head.
Her mother stretched out a cup of water towards her, her father took it from her mother and handed it over to her. Gbemi swallowed harder than someone with an infected throat, harder than one with a bone stuck in the throat. It took longer than ever to finish a glass of water swallowing in noisy gulps.
Finally, she was done. Her father held her hand and she remembered how Bayo also held that hand, it was the same way and for a moment she compared the finger nails and complexion wondering if they were all kind of related.
     "You are shaking!! Do you have malaria? Her father asked. "Are you pregnant?!" Her mother blurted out. At the sound of that word her head started to follow the pounding routine of her heart and maybe her lungs. All these connive of organs will probably leave many doctors speechless with either flabbergast or an inability to explain what was going on in her body system.
At this point, she began to sweat profusely realising scary movies tell a bit of  truth. Her mother was already standing with questioning eyes with her hand on her waist when they heard a knock on the door.
Bayo came in...