Whenever I look at a blue pen, known by the brand name of Bic, I feel pain right into my bones. This pen caused me to receive a beating I have never forgotten. It is only a pen but it means more to me; it means, PAIN. The story of that pen is quite interesting.
I was only thirteen at the time. My father had gotten a job transfer and naturally, the whole family moved to the new town. Life was quite easy in this new town because food was cheaper, housing was no problem. The only problem we had to deal with was the weather. We had moved from a hot town and this place was extremely cold. One had to dress up in all manner of warm clothing; mittens, pullovers, scarves, leg warmers, jackets. I didn't spend much time at home because I was in boarding school at the time.
The August holiday is one I will live to remember. I was so excited like all other students on Thursday night as we went for the release of exam results in the school's assembly hall. This meeting was best known to us as “Reckoning”. I was pretty excited because I had improved tremendously and I was going to be commended. The most exciting thing was that I would have a peaceful holiday at home without being scolded for poor academic results. As I said goodbye to my friends on Friday, I was one happy lady to begin the homestretch.
I arrived home quite early together with my elder sister because we were schooling at the same place. Our youngest sibling, Richard was more than glad to welcome us home because his boredom was coming to an end- so to speak- for a month or so.
Saturday was the fateful day whose happenings have stuck to mind like a leach. Since we had just closed school, I still had the psyche to read books and I was more determined than ever to make it to the top ten class positions the next time. It was not my duty to prepare supper that evening so I reclined to our bedroom to read some Biology notes. I was reading my favorite topic "Cell Physiology". Thirty minutes into the reading, my elder sister Lid came into the bedroom. “Becky, dad is borrowing a pen. He says he wants to do some writing.” Lid said. “Tell him am so sorry I carried only one pen from school and am using it at the moment because am making notes as I read.” I thought that was a polite answer. More so it was also genuine. My father could not take no for an answer.
Almost five minutes later, Richard came in and said, “Becky, dad wants that pen you are using.” I got agitated. Couldn't he use any other pen or even borrow from Lid or Richard? However this was my answer “ Tell him, I only have one pen which I am using and Lid has said she forgot to carry her pens. I'll be through with Biology in the next half an hour after which I can lend him the pen because I will be reading a novel and I won't need the pen. I'm only asking for a little patience because I desperately need to complete what am doing. Surely you know procrastination is a thief of time.” Richard's rejoinder was” I was sent to get a pen, not a lecture on how "focused" you are. Are you giving me the pen or not?”
“Well, you expect an answer so here it is. Come back after thirty minutes and I will give it to you.” When he told my father what I had said, he kept quiet and continued watching the day's news. I thought the case was closed and I could now continue studying in peace. Little did I know the drama of the night had just begun! When the broadcaster begun reading sports news, Richard was back demanding for the pen. Why was my father making such a big fuss over that particular pen? It was not like he didn't have a pen of his own. In fact Richard had taken to him his own ballpoint pen and he had refused to use it. The pen was still new and full of ink. Or was it that he did not just want me to study that particular evening? If he had something else for me in mind he should have been courteous enough to tell me. I was tired of him nagging me so much over that pen. I gave it to Richard and hoped that I would finally have a peaceful moment that evening.
