The Helen Drama

Dear God,

When the gentleman held my hand, the first instinct was to snatch it and run. But there was something about his hands, or rather, I have something about hands. People’s hands tell me a lot about them. And I knew even without the shakings that the man was a good man. I had no reason to be afraid. He touched me with so much kindness. Whoever “The Helen” was, my gentleman loved her a lot. Accepting Helen’s identity may help the family take him home.

“Who is Helen?” I asked Annie. (Knowing Helen will help me understand the part I needed to play)

The lady hesitated and then said slowly …” She’s dead”

“Aaahaa!”. “Well done, Lord, just well done! I am greeting you!”

(Don’t even laugh, Lord, because I am not finding this funny at all. How can you make this man identify me with a dead person? No, keep laughing, it’s okay)

I was speechless, how can I now act like a dead person? The man was so adamant and stubborn in his resistance to the daughter. In fact, he was getting irritated and agitated and I knew I had to do something to help but what? Become Helen the dead? Even in all the back and forth with the lady, the man was soft spoken and coherent, just totally certain that Annie wasn’t his daughter.

“Who is Helen to him?”, I asked again. I must understand this Helen to connect with her and the man.

The lady paused for some time again. She looked at me uneasily, but it was very clear to her that the only way her dad will listen, or bulge was if I was involved. She needed my help and for me to help, I needed to know who I was going to impersonate. She was also buying time for mum to get there.

“Helen is dad’s sister; she died in a car crash some years ago. She was going for a ride with dad when a drunk rammed into them. Aunty Helen died. And dad had a head injury.

Hiaaa! (Father Lord, not only is Helen dead but she was an older woman. My gentleman is identifying me with a 60some years woman. Chai. Father…see my life? But what can I do. I have to be Helen whether I liked it or yes)

“Was that why he lost his memory?”, I asked quietly

She frowned and hesitated.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to ….”, I started

“No, but that’s how it started, and it has become degenerative since then……” she trailed off

“I am sorry”, I said. “I just wanted to understand who he thought I was. He must have loved her a lot”.

She nodded, bravely holding back her tears. But I saw it. So, I became Helen automatically.

(Aaaaah, Dad, I can act oo. Chai. You needed to have seen me acting Helen. Where are all these Nollywood people? They won’t see me now, when my fees are still cheap.)

By the time the wife and son caught up with us, I had the man sitting near me, I was listening attentively to him, nodding in agreement as he explained that he didn’t know Annie. I had told him where I have been and explained why we had to go home and get some of his hot chocolates. Annie also cued into my act and was subtly supplying me information on his favourite things. When the man asked me who Annie was, I told him she was my favourite friend’s daughter. He was surprised he hadn’t met my friend before.

“So why is she claiming to be my daughter?”, he frowned

“She has always looked up to you as a father,” I replied.

He nodded.

We almost messed up the effect with over-acting. The wife and son had called the estate security just in case they needed to force him home, but when the security team drove up and saw all of us gisting and laughing, they went back.

My newfound brother didn’t recognise his wife nor son either, just me…. “The Helen”. Immediately they saw the scenario, they cued in too. I was the one who introduced all of them to their father. I confirmed their mum as my friend and Annie and Dave as her children. The pain in their mum’s eyes was tangible when she realised that I was acting “Helen”. But what could I do? Either that or they all sleep in that park or in my house. I foresee the man wanting to go home with me.

Finally, my newfound brother agreed to go home, and we all entered the car and drove home. I took him into the living room, settled him into his favourite chair and turned to leave. He had slept a bit during the ride home and fell asleep on the seat immediately we got home. When Annie came to adjust his pillow, he woke up stared at her for some time and then said……

“Annie dear, please get me a glass of water.” He said it so naturally like the past few hours never happened.

The look of relief on Annie’s face would make a worldclass painting. The tears were gathered, but they didn’t fall. They just glazed her eyes like diamonds. Annie ran off, came back with a glass and gave the father. He drank and thanked her, touching her hand lovingly. Annie, sat at his feet holding his hand. I knew it was time to go.

My gentleman was back home, and a bit of the memory was jogged back in. At least he remembered Annie again. Will he remember me again? Will he remember what happened at the park that day? Will I see him again? Should I?

They offered to have the driver take me home, but I refused. I wanted to walk, to reflect. Annie walked me into the street before going back in. You could tell that they love their dad a lot and his condition was heart burning for them. Annie and I are still in touch and “my brother is doing well. We call him “my brother” now.

Dad, seriously, watching someone you love suffer is painful. It is and I know that you know that. You have watched your own son suffer on the cross and I know it took a lot for you to let him go through that. Do you remember how David suffered and begged and entreated you when Beersheba’s son was ill? It is painful. Do you remember Mary and Matha over Lazarus?

Can I entreat you on behalf of everyone caring for a sick one? Can I entreat you on behalf of “my gentlemen brother” and every other parent going through that challenge? Can You hear me? Am I getting through to you at all? Can You see them? Can You make them feel alright? I can still see Annie as she held her father’s hand, and she tried not to cry as the tears fill her eyes. It hurts Lord, it is painful to see.

Where did you keep that healing balm? The balm of Gilead? Can you just use it? Hmm. Seriously, Lord, I submit, you know best. Your time is the best.

This is

your daughter, I am checking in.