One Night And What You Wish – 2

Please click here, if you missed part 1.

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Toun Salami hissed, as she paced around the room in anger. Samuel, the young man who handed her the tape and who she had earlier contracted to wiretap the house, was trying in vain to calm her down.

“Take it easy, madam. Things like this happen. You just have to take it easy, okay?”

“Mtscheww! How could he? How could they?”

She hadn’t bargained for this. The other day when she had invited Samuel to install a listening device in the house after everyone had gone out, all she wanted was to spy on Idara and hopefully chance on her conversations with whoever was responsible for her pregnancy, seeing that she had refused to open up on his identity. But nothing prepared her for this betrayal.

For the first time in her life, she felt alone, lost and completely clueless about her life – her husband, who had stooped so low to cheat on her, their only son – Dotun – whose brazenness knew no bounds. He had no qualms blackmailing his father at the expense of his mother. Then there was the housemaid she had literally picked up from the gutters, who thought of no other way to return her kindness than to direct her lustful tendencies towards her mistress’ husband! Whatever happened to family? Whatever happened to love, devotion, gratitude and one good turn deserving another? She fell on her knees; this was too much to bear. Tears flowed as her whole body shook.

“Haba Madam, take it easy now, ehn. You have to approach this matter with a calm mind. Here, take a sit.” Samuel pulled a chair close for her and helped her up. She gratefully accepted. Just then, the doorbell rang. It was Idara returning from the errand that had been concocted to keep her out of the house long enough to attend to this necessary business.

“I think I’ll take my leave now, madam.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need you again.”

“Yes madam. And don’t worry, I’ll help myself out.”

“Yes, thank you,” Toun accepted graciously, for she was sure that if she went to get the door herself, nothing would keep her from strangling Idara. “And please let the maid in,” she added.

When she left the study a few minutes later, she was resolute. She would play this game the way they all wanted it. She would take it all with a smile, continue to be the good wife, the doting mother and benevolent lady of the house. The game had only just begun. “Let’s see for how long the bunch of you idiots can hold out,” she muttered.

 

 

One Night And What You Wish

He paced nervously back and forth in his private study.
”I need you to claim responsibility for Idara’s pregnancy,” he announced to his son.
“What!”
“You heard me.”
“Dad!”
“Name your price.”
“Dad, I can’t believe……”
“Name your price!”
Pause. 15 seconds.
“I….I….I’ll need to sleep over this dad.”
“You will not sleep over anything! I said, name your price!”
“I’m sorry dad but this will have to wait till tomorrow.”
Dotun could read his father’s desperation. Suddenly he felt like Duncan Mighty. He shook his head in disbelief at how quickly the table could turn when you “stumble” on “important” information. He blessed the day, no, the night – that opportune night – when he had caught Idara and his dad in “the act.”

“How dare you tell me to wait?” his father barked, breaking into his thoughts. “In this house, I call the shots…..”
“Well not anymore dad!”
Uneasy silence.
Now helpless, he said, “Alright son, please just say what you want and I’ll do it for you. Anything. Just name it.”
Dotun reeled out: “A university education in the US. Freedom to live my life without your busybody interference. And a well-funded bank account, so that nothing goes wrong.”
His father’s eyes narrowed a bit. “What could possibly go wrong? And how much are we looking at here?”
“I don’t know dad. You call the shots, remember?” The scorn on Dotun’s face was obvious.
His father thought long and hard, before acqueising. “Done. You start in September.”
Dotun smiled. He knew that if his mother ever learnt the truth about the housemaid’s pregnancy,  his father was toast.
There was something else about that smile. It was the realisation that he had just unlocked the door to an endless goldmine.

‘Sweet’ Find

She stared, then blinked several times mouth agape, at the most embarrassing drama just unfolding before her eyes! Segun her husband stole a quick glance at their guests, who each looked away either out of  embarrassment for their utterly bewildered hosts or to hide the laughter that was just refusing to be stifled and would soon give them away.

Standing in all of her innocence before them was 3-year old Tonye, their hosts’ brilliant daughter, brandishing something  in abject i-told-you-mum defiance. A tongue-tied Preye bit her lip.

10 minutes earlier Tonye,  her daughter,  had nagged and nagged her for a wrap of Tom-tom sweet. Preye had refused, because it was bedtime already. Besides, she was totally against going to bed with a sweet in her mouth – a complete no-no in their family’s dental regimen.

Several more ‘harassments’ after and Preye ordered her daughter to bed with one mean look of gavel-like finality. Slam! The defeated young lady sulked her way upstairs to her room. Or so she thought.

Until she returned defiantly with her ‘sweet’ find. ”Mummy I won’t give you my sweet,” she taunted in her slightly musical voice. She then turned towards her daddy and implored him to help her open this ‘sweet.’ When mummy turned to look at her little girl’s spoil, there it was: a tired-looking, teeth-battered but still intact wrap of unused Durex! The ‘contingency plan’ that had never left the ‘shores’ of her handbag. Until now.

Revenge. Really?

His laughter pierced across the room, above the noise of the television, clinking glasses and loud chatter in the bar room. Some of the occupants simply threw a quick glance in his direction and immediately went back to their business. Others got quite curious at the lone stranger’s mien. This wasn’t a regular face in this bar.

The middle-aged man, whose vocal chords had just commanded attention, had a newspaper in his hands and was clearly unaware of the twenty something pairs of eyes that looked in his direction. He emptied his glass in one last big gulp that burned its way down his throat and into his stomach and slammed the glass back hard on the table.

The laughter suddenly disappeared and he became pensive. .

A few minutes passed and I walked up to him. It did not seem that he was aware of my presence so I tapped the table lightly, at the time saying, “hello buddy.”

From his startled response, it was obvious that I had snapped him out of some memory lane he had plunged deep into. The ruffled hair, undone tie hanging loosely around his neck, eyes that looked like they needed a year-long sleep…., my eyes took all of him in.

“Hello,” I said again, hoping he’d at least return my greeting. Silence. Something was obviously stuck in his throat I cynically decided and was about to make towards my chair, when my eyes caught something – a tear. He had been crying! Silently!

That drew me back. As I tried to reach out to him, he withdrew, at the same time standing up to his feet. I stood up too, to be in equal measure. Perhaps he saw the question in my eyes, for he inched closer to me, his forefinger poking my chest in rhythm to his parting words. He said, “Not when you love her buddy. NOT-WHEN-YOU-FREAKING-LOVE-HER!”

Was he drunk? I didn’t think so. Was he reciting a poem? That could hardly be explained by the tear sliding freely down his cheeks, nor by the reddened eyes.

He turned towards the door and walked out of it into the cold dark street. I decided to take a look at whatever it was that he had been reading, and there it was – the answer to my question.

Slightly above where his tear had fallen on the ‘Quotable Quotes’ column of the newspaper, I saw the marked out words that I was seeking.

It read, “When a man steals your wife, there is no better revenge than to let him keep her.”

Now, you tell me, is it really the best revenge?

Random Memories

Rousing in the morning

Just when the day is dawning

Stretching out and yawning

Alarm clock clearly warning!

 

Gobbling up a muffin

Gulping lots of coffee

Popping in a toffee

My body simply bluffing

 

Snapping close my briefcase

Doing up my shoelace

Kissing Cutie goodbye

Awaiting not her reply

 

These are random memories

Of my city hustles

Not without the bustle

And occasional reveries

Now has come the sunset

With seeds of mighty regret

For Cutie is another’s

Our love has grown asunder

 

 

Finding my way to Forgiveness

I couldn’t go back to her. Didn’t know how to. After 47 months of separation from my wife Sue, how could I possibly ask her to take me back? It was comforting to know that she didn’t remarry or get into another relationship but then maybe she didn’t want to. Didn’t need to. Not after I abandoned her and my kids without explanation. How she must hate me!

I knew she was angry. It was obvious from her zillion messages to my inbox back then, that she was seething with anger, which I had ignored. At the time, I dismissed them as the ranting of an angry woman but if I were in her shoes, I’d probably have done much worse.
I noticed the sweat on my palms and my heart racing so I decided to sit, all the while asking myself how on earth I drifted away from those that mattered most to me. It all started with a brief moment of weakness (or lustful greed when I look back now). I tasted infidelity and wanted it over and over again. I couldn’t just stop, the lure was overpowering, uh!

Suddenly the bible story swept through my mind, of Jacob and Esau* and how they became reunited after animosities threw them apart for many years. I’d write her a letter I decided. No emails, no calls, just write. I wanted her to see and feel my regret as she read. I was prepared to do anything to make it up to her, gosh! How had she managed with my littluns all these years? Not even a dime from me in support of their upkeep. And come think of it, she didn’t even take up the case with Child Welfare! “You’re completely useless Istvan,” was all I could say to myself. “Your case is pathetic. How can you throw love like this away?

I waited for 2 long weeks, in the hopes that I’d get a reply to my letter. I was ready for any kind of response, anything at all except silence. But nothing came. So I decided again to write, this time ordering some flowers in accompaniment. Still nothing. I’m not sure how many letters I wrote after that but when I came to my wits end, I knew it was time to do the brave thing – walk up to her door and say how truly sorry I was, for everything. I’d understand if she didn’t want me back but I had to let her know how truly sorry I was.

When I rang the bell, I did not know what sort of reception I would get. It took a while for the door to open but when it did, I saw in an instant all the array of emotions on her face: shock, fear, uncertainty, not so much of joy but  I was unsure if there was still some anger lurking somewhere in those glassy eyes. I imagined she would slam the door shut and then reappear within seconds with a glass bottle aimed at my head or even a knife….

Something of a million years passed before I finally picked up the courage to speak. She had grayed a bit, lost some weight too but it was obvious from the wrinkle lines now forming on her face that it was a lot for her to bear. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I wanted to reach out and comfort this hurting woman but I was just hung…..my voice was heavy. I got on my knees not trusting them to bear my weight any longer…. My body shook in uncontrolled spasms as I just poured out myself, my stupidities, my regrets, everything. Would I ever be able to right the wrongs?

Then I saw her fall on her knees too, right in front of me. She held me, looked into my eyes, her frail gaze holding mine. “I read every one of the letters,” she began, “every one of them; but my heart was too heavy and my hand….. couldn’t hold the weight of a pen…..” This time it was my turn to hold her as she gave way to all emotion. She had every right to, even though by far, she was the stronger one and I was a coward, more than I had cared to admit.

I held her for a long time, knowing from then on, that holding her forever was all I wanted to do.

 

*The account of Jacob and Esau’s reunion can be found in Genesis Chapter 32:11-20 & Chapter 33:1-11

The Phantom

It oft is said, “when something seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

You came, Whirlwind, you came,

Sweeping me off my feet,

Charting me a new course,

One I’d rather not walk.

Friends you said we’d be,

That was just fine by me,

For you see, I belonged to another,

And Us asunder, I would not have.

But that manner, that gait, that subtlety,

Your finesse that took my breath away,

Found me asking, loyalty flinching,

“Where have you been all my life?”

You gained me slowly but surely,

Then voom, in the flash of an instant,

You’re gone and lost forever,

Was that a mirage I saw or something?

I smile that knowing smile:

I should have known

You were the Phantom

The fleeting fantasy that never was