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I never had a problem with Olu being Dad’s favorite, maybe it was because I could tell that I was the next in line. He loved a person with a talent, Olu’s being languages, mine being music. When they discovered that I could play whole songs on the piano from what I’d heard from gramophone records, all at the age of three, my mother insisted that we move back to London so that I could get proper training. Dad refused, though, and suggested that we hire an instructor to come to Africa to train me. Mother didn’t think it would be possible to get any reputable music instructor to live so far from civilization for so long, so we ended up moving back to England, just Mother and Anna and I, leaving Dad in the bush. By the time we came back from our first season in London, Dad had moved Olu into the house, and they’d bonded, almost like father and son. But Mother constantly reminded him, and the rest of us, that Olu was basically nothing more than a glorified servant, and that my father. I took the seats directly in front of him, slightly pissed I wouldn't get to lie down this trip. The bus took off and as it made it's way up North it became emptier and emptier. Eventually after a few hours I noticed it was just myself, and the man behind me. When we made our rest stop I went into the cafe and got myself a coffee, and some soup. When I tried to pay I only had my debt, but theirs was down, the older man from the bus was behind me and offered to pay for my meal. I thanked him and he told me I was more than welcome.We boarded the bus just after the sun had set. It was dark on the bus. I put in my ear buds for a while and tuned out. After an hour the coffee hit me and I used the bathroom, as I exited the older man turned to me and said "Miss, are you all alone tonight?".I replied, "Yes, just going home to visit some familie." As am I. Won't you keep me company for the remainder of the trip?" he asked me.I couldn't say no. He was so sweet and his smile made me melt. I.
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