IN THE BACK OF THE FRIDGE, MAMA HID MY REAL FATHER

I have not opened that fridge for 3 months.

Since mama died, nobody opens it. The fridge is in our parlor in Nnewi, old Thermocool, humming like a tired old man.

My sister said "let's sell it." I said no.

Today, NEPA took light and brought it. Fridge started making noise, gbo gbo gbo. I said let me finally clean it before it spoil.

I opened it. Empty. Just ice covering everywhere.

Then I saw it — in the back of the fridge, behind the ice, one black nylon, tied three times, frozen stiff.

I used knife to comot it. My hand was shaking.

Inside that nylon: three things.

One small bottle of Fanta, still cold. One folded paper. And one old Nokia phone, the small torchlight one.

The paper was mama's writing. I know her handwriting.

It said: "Nne, if you see this, I don go. Inside this Nokia, na your papa number. I tell you say he die, but he no die. He dey London since 2007. He dey send money inside fridge because I no get bank account. The money dey inside that Fanta bottle — open the bottom."

What?

I turned the Fanta bottle. The bottom had tape. I peeled it — $400 dollars, folded, inside plastic.

Inside Nokia, one contact: "PAPA LONDON".

I sat down for floor, in front of that fridge. Cold air blowing on my face.

So all these years, in the back of the fridge was my school fees, my real papa, and a lie mama keep cold for 15 years?

I never pressed the call button. The phone battery still full.

Should I call?

IMAGE IS AI GENERATED