A WIFE TO A BILLIONAIRE

"Hold on, I am coming, please be patient, I am coming!" I shouted, cleaning off the remaining particles of clay from my hands as I approached the door. Whoever is at that door, is being annoying at the way the person is ringing the doorbell, and if this continues my next door neighbor Mrs. Marissa will shove another angry aggressive note under my doorjamb. Just this month, she has already left nine angry notes, and we were only halfway through this month.

I forcefully open the door. "What is it?" I quickly yelled. Then I was taken aback.

Johnson Derrick, pioneer of a thriving multimillion-dollar enterprise, Oracle limited, my biological father, who was also my nominal one, stood silently in the walkway.

"Jessica," he whispered.

I banged the door shut right in front of him.

Damn I fucked up, I would have taken hold of the expired fire extinguisher from the walkway, that particular one that has been sitting right there since last year; and beat him to death or if I knew it was my father that was at the door, I would have carried my drawing stick that is on the table right there, then used it to break his head- but wisdom often comes after the moment has passed. Instead of killing him, I calmly went around my house, in search of my iphone while he was still at the door, ringing the doorbell. I found it in the kitchen beside the pot of sauce on the cooker.

Oh god! I forgot my phone on the cooker, what was I thinking, What if the cooker was on? I had a plan of eating sauce and bread this morning as a poor artist, but I forgot because of the work I had on hand, I needed to make some cash.

I turned on my phone, and dialled my therapist number.

"Jessica? Jessica please open the door!" He stopped ringing the doorbell and started pounding hard on the door with his fist.

"Mr Derrick, will you shut your mouth? Just shut up," I mumbled as I waited for the therapist to pick my call. My heart race, when I heard someone else voice,then sank when I realized, it was a recorded voice of my therapist telling me that she not around at the moment, that blah blah blah blah, she will love to hear from me... blah blah blah, leave your blah blah and blah, beep.

"Fuck! I sweared, preventing myself from not getting angry and throwing my damn phone at the wall.

"Jessica please we need to talk!" He shouted. The flimsy piece of wood between us barely blocked his voice.

"Please leave me alone, and go away!" I cried out, heading my way back to the sculpture. I stared at the statue helplessly. I totally forgot what I was supposed to be making. I started rearranging things, moving around and thinking, telling myself it is time to clean up my workstation . Anything I can do to distract my mind from my moron of a father standing outside my apartment. Will you believe if I tell you I have not seen him for the past six years ? For good six years! He is an awful father. In fact, I barely got to see him during my upbringing. I remember vividly,when I was six years old, he mistook me for our housemaid's niece. That was how bad a father and daughter relationship was.

"Jessica..."

My jaw locked with frustration. "Leave me, I do not want to have anything to do with you."

"Jessica, it is about your mother!"

I immediately stopped rearranging my work tools. My Mom!

What is wrong? Was she okay? We spoke few days ago and she sounded fine then. Oh God oh God!!

I started biting my lips.

I know a lot could have happened, I thought.

My therapist had advised me to set boundaries with my family. She even make jokes that I should stay away from them by moving to another country but here I am, I have to open the door for him. That means I have been paying huge sum of amount for her advice to ignore it. Now he is here, telling me about my dear Mom.

I inhaled deeply and opened the door gently. His hand was still in the air fist, wanting to give another knock.

"What happened to my mum? Is she alright?* I asked sharply.

His face became calm, like he was relieved. "Jessica, I need to talk to you," he said.

"If you need to talk to me, you have to say it here, I was in a middle of something important and be fast about it," I said. Once upon a time, he would have be proud of the way I am talking, how tough I sounded.

Instead, to my surprise, he burst into tears.

I looked at him with surprised, I have not seen my father cried before. He was always acting tough and strong. If you reach out to me ten minutes ago and ask if my father is capable of crying, I will tell you he does not produce tears.

I halted in the entryway, wavering, not knowing what to do next. He was terrible a man, no doubt, but he was my father. Looking at him now, He was not looking clean like the man I use to know. His hair was always neatly cut and combed, but now his hair was messy, and his very expensive suit looked rumpled like it was removed from a bottle. The suit looks oversized, I was not plead to realized he had reduced in size. My father, Johnson Derrick had long been characterized by his physical strength and vitality, he was a university volleyball star who'd gotten a bit soft with age. But now, he does not look like my father but someone wearing my father face, so slim and not looking healthy, in a way I'd never seen before.

Looking over my shoulder, at the work I was doing, I hesitated.

He noticed my vulnerability. What a fuck! that was another mistake.

"Jessica, please can we talk, it is important?" He asked.

Deep down, I knew I will regret this moment with him.

Yet despite this, I saw myself agreeing to him, just like always, I have given in to him so many times before. I did all these, for him to love me like a father would love his daughter. I desperately needed his approval like a baby needs breast milk. But I could not stop myself from saying no to him.

"Alright then," I said. I took my purse, my house keys from the table, stepped out, shut the door behind me. ",Let us finish this."