There is news that strikes us boldly, head on, pushes us violently off our feet. Hits us unshielded, unexpected, and then finds us responding unguarded, wailing. This was not such an occasion. Of course not. This was nothing yet.
Karl jerked in a funny way. You could see it. Inside, thoughts speeding, mind flying all over. Like major fast.
‘What do you mean, disappeared?’
‘Karl.’
It was sad. This name-calling thing everyone seemed to do. Was it a grown-up thing, like a proper issue, or just a way of stalling time?
‘I don’t know exactly what to tell you. We don’t have the details.’
No details, no/know nothing.
‘He came back to Port Harcourt a few days before your arrival.’
‘But then what? I talked to him the day before I left!’
‘Exactly. He was ready, he had prepared everything. Then on the day of your arrival …’
Uncle T gestured for Karl to come to the living room. John was sitting on an armchair close to the front door. He flashed a smile (without the teeth thing, didn’t open his mouth enough). The man Uncle T had been meeting with was still on the couch. He rose and shook Karl’s hand. He was a business partner of Uncle T’s. More importantly, he was a close family friend, a close friend of Adebanjo. Karl sunk into the armchair right next to the couch, facing the man, Mr. Layeni. Uncle T poured water in a glass and placed it on the little side table next to the armchair. Karl’s glass. A weak attempt of keeping a rising fire in check. Fear, such a powerful accelerator. No need for fuel.
They had thought he would be back by now. Hoped so anyway.
The security guard emerged from the dark spot by the entrance, positioned himself close to the armchair John was sitting in. Hands clasped in front.
John came to the bungalow on the day of Karl’s arrival and found the house quiet. The door locked. The car in the driveway. The man himself gone. The security guard said he left early that morning, long before John came. That it seemed like he had gone out to service the other car. The one he hardly used. Nothing suspicious really; he sometimes left that early. Traffic. To beat it. Before the morning rush hour.
The other car. An old one. ‘Na de small one,’ the security guard said. One that was parked on the other side, where there was another driveway, a narrower one, and another gate but that one was just locked shut and never in use. Unless the car was moved. Which was not often. Not often at all.
When John had come, ready to drive to the airport, to pick up Karl, there was no father. The security guard looked uncomfortable.
‘Him neva come back. We wait small but sah neva come.’
‘I couldn’t call anyone. It was too late. It was time to get you.’ John’s teeth were in competition. Which one could make it out first? John used the car keys he had. Made sure there was a welcoming committee at the other side when Karl came through the gates at the airport. Only without the main man there was no committee at all. Totally unspecial.
Uncle T had been on the phone to John when he left the plane. Had raced ahead so he could catch him first. Find out what the heck was going on. Grateful that John had made an executive decision and come to pick them up.
‘And nothing has been found out? No word at all?’
‘Nothing Karl. Nothing.’ Uncle T looked deflated. The entire facade crashed.
Mr. Layeni’s eyes were narrow, piercing. ‘I’ve called his work. They are not expecting him back yet. I didn’t want to alarm them so I couldn’t ask too much. It is best to keep this between us.’
Karl thought about the secrets of this story. The father who required so much silence. It had been a bad idea. It was, like, so clear now. Out of control, knee-jerk reaction, so totally romcom it wasn’t even funny.
Mr. Layeni cleared his throat. ‘I saw him on Monday, the day he returned. All was well.’ He exchanged glances with Uncle T. ‘He had called the mechanic the day before. To service the other car. So it would be ready for you. Karl …’ And he shot another glance at Uncle T. ‘He worked for the oil company.’
It was supposed to be an answer for something. Give a clue about the situation. Like hello!, say what you have to say or leave it, right?
‘Yes?’
‘Sometimes there are complications. Usually it involves foreign workers.’
Karl’s trousers buzzed. He put his hand into his pocket and grasped the phone. How comforting that gadget could be. Direct line to sanity. All you had to do was treat it right, give it juice, keep it charged, and it would recharge you.
‘I don’t understand.’
Mr. Layeni shifted in his seat. Uncle T got up from the couch.
‘We are making some more calls, waiting to see whether your father will get in touch. The country … many things happen here, Karl.’
‘You think something happened?’
And Karl’s face went from one to another. Uncle T, Mr. Layeni, John, the security guard.
‘No need to worry. We wait a bit. Things will resolve themselves. It’s only been a day.’
‘And a half.’ It shot from Karl’s mouth. ‘A day and a half.’ His voice trailed off, not as sure as it had started.
‘Yes, a day and a half,’ Uncle T confirmed. ‘Not long at all. He probably got stuck somewhere and his phone ran out of battery.’ It sounded like a lazy effort. Uncle T continued. ‘For now we have to figure out what you will do with your time here, eh?’ His tone, supposed to be light-hearted, dropped flat on itself. No one smiled.
‘Do you not go to the police or something?’
The four men all looked at Karl.
‘Yes.’
‘I mean at least they can register it, right?’
‘Yes, they could.’
Uncle T looked tired. Of course it wouldn’t make any sense. They wouldn’t register anything. Not here. Not now. And why would they? If not for some large sum, nothing would be done.
‘It is late. Try and get some rest. Tomorrow is another day. John will take you around. Show you Port Harcourt. Then, in the evening we figure out what needs to be done.’
Karl was relieved. At least he wouldn’t be trapped inside all day again.
John rose and extended his hand. ‘I come for you in the morning. You get up early?’
Karl nodded. He didn’t need to sleep in on holidays. Although it wasn’t so clear what exactly this was. Not pleasant, not holiday-like at all. What to do with this?
Mr. Layeni got up too. ‘If I have news I will let you know straight away. Very nice to meet you.’
And he put his hand on Karl’s shoulder. When everyone left, Uncle T showed him the fridge. It was full. Bottled water, soft drinks. The house help was coming back the following day. She would cook.
There were too many questions. He felt numb and without energy.
‘What if he doesn’t come back?’
‘He will, Karl. He will.’
It almost sounded convincing.