I’m living with my dad because I don’t want him to be alone. Also, I must admit, living with him saves me a lot of stress from Accra's high rent and transportation costs. Here, I can use his car to go to work if he doesn't have anywhere to go. He's become a friend, and he advises me on so many issues. That's also a bonus.
My girlfriend comes around a lot, so he knows her, and the relationship between the two of them is cordial. My girlfriend can come over even when I’m not home, and she always receives a warm welcome in my absence.
She spends the night with me and sometimes the entire weekend. This is our last year of dating. Early next year, we're getting married.
My dad sometimes struggles to sleep, so it's very normal to wake up at dawn and see him walking around. I've seen him in the kitchen at 1 a.m. eating. I've seen him still watching TV at 2 a.m. It all seemed normal until a few weeks ago, when I opened my bedroom door and accidentally hit him.
I felt he had been standing unusually close to my door, so I apologized and even asked, “Still finding it hard to sleep?” He only smiled.
Another night, while my girlfriend and I were busy making love, I thought I heard footsteps behind my window—the crackling sound leaves make when someone steps on them. I paid attention and even stopped for a while to listen, but the footsteps stopped.
Just when I had finished and was getting off her, I turned around and saw someone at the window, with his face pressed against the mosquito net, looking inside. The moment I turned, the person quickly ducked down.
I went to the window to check but didn't see anyone. I didn't go outside to find out who it was.
Then, early yesterday morning, after we had finished another intimate moment, I opened my bedroom door and hit my dad in the face. He screamed, “Ajei!” He covered his face and started walking away. I felt so bad that I followed him, asking whether he was hurt. When he removed his hand from his face, I saw it was swollen.
I immediately wondered, “What was he doing standing so close to my door that it hit his face instead of his leg?”
Then everything started making sense.
My dad had been spying on us.
The person at the window had been him. All those times I'd woken up and found him wandering around, he had probably been listening in while we were being intimate.
I haven't asked him anything yet, but these days I can see guilt in his demeanor. It makes me wonder why my own father would spy on me. What exactly does he want to see or hear? It's just the two of us sharing private moments. Why does he want to be part of it?
I'm looking for a new place to rent. Kindly let me know if you know of one. I think this is the sign that I'm too old to be living in my father's house.
I'm leaving.
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