Chapter Sixteen

Another festive Christmas, another high days and high holidays. MyAngel had called this Friday night to announce the problem she encountered on the road, after a long time the Nosy-perker fallout had gone with no communication between them. She needed his consoling words now. She needed his prayer as much. The car they were coming home with broke down along Owerri—Onitsha lonely road. SonOfMan had some budging indictment against her that he harboured and waited like a devouring tiger, but he sagely concealed them.

There in his room, he sat secluded—looking at everything unbelievably. Anyway, it was almost bed time and he picked his pocket bible and tried to read before night prayer.

The bible contained the mind of God and light to direct him, comfort to cheer him and perhaps food to support him. Yeah, to turn his dis-advantage to this-advantage. He would read it to be wise here. He finished one chapter and another, but they didn’t do much good. He tried to think, to figure some angles and to put things together—but nothing fell in credible place.

…He tried falling in conjugal love with someone, or getting someone fall in conjugal love with him in a clingy way.

…He tried picking up clues that trailed back some time now—but had tried to do them without dipping his hand into undue scandal.

…So far it was awful; he got spontaneous infatuation, seduced, negotiated in fools-paradise, and got humiliated with disrepair.

Pale into insignificant, he knew how underplayed he was. Either to be used as a purposeful stopgap, or outright mockery. But why? Damn it, why the cruel mockery if he could be a failsafe to start with? That much was clear. It was self satisfying to engage with him and make him real stupid in a mirage world. But why, damn it, why?

Did she use him as disrepair mockery or as a stopgap to fill her sexual desire, and then failsafe in case the causative respite turned permanent? Either one was a reason for that oath of engagement, but which one?

He closed the bible and walked out of the house. Maybe it would be better if he should stay with old friend in distress; maybe in a lively joint.

He turned to a phone booth and tried to call MyAngel, but couldn’t get her. The next attempt got him to Prince Williams, who recently lost his father. He was all obliging when he told him it was him.

(What are you fixed? You’re anxious; aren’t you?) Prince Williams said.

“Nothing is amiss; I’m trying to have a think. You got any negative inkling?”

(Not really; it’s about your girl?)

“How’s she?”

(She surely was stranded; called to tell me.)

“Yeah… but too bad; tomorrow is the burial ceremony of your father, and we supposed to attend it together.”

(Right… but I thought of it and send my younger brother, Lloyd, to pick her up. She has some bags of rice and other home needs.)

“Good and generous to pick her up that far distance. How about calling me if she arrives?”

(Why, yeah…) Princewill slowed up a bit and then added; (She needs that; she can’t come home to you this night.)

En route the next day, SonOfMan had statement to pick from the verse of the very Christian’s charter, while a bus hauled him down to Owerri. He passed it around in his mind, and it made better sense each time; immoral women are deadly trap; they wait for you like robbers.

Women! His cousin, Chinonso, was among. Aye, she was right there at the end of the wooing line, when he came into MyAngel’s life. The very front end. They were inextricable, because Chinonso patted her back, with equal optimism, on her acceptance of his proposal. They played it cordial and harmonious, and many other things, confidentially. Yeah, confidentially.

Later on a passenger’s tricycle come to a halt at the open compound of Prince Williams’ family house—giving the rider a reason to hold out his hand. SonOfMan put money in it and climbed out.

Prince Williams’ guests, especially kith and kin, were inside the parlour. The sitting-room had a television entertaining with music. Majority of the men were doing justice to their empty bowels, and Princewill was not just around to welcome SonOfMan at the door.

Sitting alone over the other extreme was beautiful MyAngel. She was a nice cute-looking dish if you hadn’t got too close to the eye-opener to her hypocrisy—to her goddamn silent subterfuge. She was in sitting position that tried to pick out her sensational taut breasts, watching what was showing on the TV in the manner that exposed her comeliness. Then her gimmick clothe, yeah! It didn’t take a second look to see that if she had had some desperate sexy hot wear, it wouldn’t have been more charming in the glossy world of fashion. The flared dress was rather far from being décolletage, just as her shoes were far from being flatties. Nevertheless, it was flamboyant and that gave a lot of sense of draw. The confection was tight around her waist, but it was specially designed that way to shove out the curvature of her hips for some provocative display.

She saw him but wasn’t exactly sure whether to get excited and rush to him, or get glum and sit put where she was sitting. His face must have made a picture of everything that went on in his mind. Maybe she would have stood for him by the next moment, but Prince Williams appeared.

Prince Williams took him to the dinning side of the room, where they sat down with his face glimmering amid good sense of conversation.

Not SonOfMan.

SonOfMan sat ramrod straight with his face averted from the besetting MyAngel; and when Prince Williams moved his lips as if to start some chat about her, he waved it off.

“What’s wrong with you? I just…”

“Did I tell you I got negative inklings about her?” SonOfMan cut Prince William’s sentence. Then he waited for him to throw a look over to MyAngel in a wondering mood, before he continued. “Yeah, did I tell you what somebody is going to let happen on my helpless fate on the intended wedlock with her?”

“What… are you… talking about?” Prince Williams frowned at him.

“Somebody is going to exhaustibly use me as a stopgap,” SonOfMan said. “Somebody was going to get self-fulfilling satisfaction from blowing abrasive mockery to my face… which is tantamount with cataclysm.”

“WyiWorri!” Prince Williams let out a startled grunt.

“I got tricked with that engagement oath.”

“Just shut up!” Prince Williams cautioned and stood to leave him. “Anyway, we’ll find time later and talk this.” Now he sounded emollient. “Now go and see her; she’s been lonely waiting for you,” he charged him. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Prince Williams might be emollient but not nimble. Aye, not in the least. SonOfMan was going to say more, the words were there in his mouth, but for Prince Williams' unnimbleness, they didn’t come out. He flicked a glance over to MyAngel; she was watching him lugubriously. His mind was going round in cute little circumference, making mind-verification meet here and there. He caught wise hurriedly; she was a damned bitch. She had nice shape and nicer air of palpable comeliness, but they were not going to draw admiration from him anymore. He looked at her, a conclusive picture started to form. It was vague but with definite outline that could print an image of a murderous hypocrite. He waved her to come and started moving out.

Now he took her to a nearby alehouse that was as good as being empty, because of the on-going ceremony at the next compound.

“Did I ever inform you some bitch is out-using me as a stop-gap, after getting certain she has survived the vicissitude that triggered her failsafe measure? Did I ever tell you some bitch is going to get fulfilled from my piteous woe? For crying out loud, did I ever tell you it’s insupportably cruel?”

MyAngel’s fingers locked together. “Say it,” she snapped out, her blazing eyes were nasty and wouldn’t help matters; “WyiWorri.”

“I was contrived into a fake engagement.”

“Who?” she let out stubbornly. It was a curious mixture of emotion.

“It’s not a matter of shouting,” …bitch. “There were a couple of things that never make sense to me, Dumebi. They looked nice, but they really didn’t make sense. One was that quick way you got around to engage with me. Many ladies wouldn’t want a plebeian of nebulous future, of course, place a noose around their necks. You didn’t put up any form of objection… even a slight one. I mean, to a guy who has only daydreams to offer.

“You hopped in this relationship on a cryptic agenda… agenda of hidden mission… mission of hypocrisy and whatever cruel mind you pre-plan. When I wanted us to take it easy, you’d had unfathomable passion you wanted every nooks and cranes of the parcels to be opened and tasted. That’s something I should have thought about. You didn’t think it twice to be ready to take that vow, so as to force into me some libidinous desire… allowing me unto your body. Was it a good disguise… that oath? It was a damned good gimmick! Some vivacious wonderful dish making herself a cheap flirt right down to fake engagement. You, Dumebi, you.”

“Not me, of course, you know,” she simply denied.

SonOfMan took his time. He expected to see horror. Real fear. He wanted to see her eyes get big as he threw the expensive indictment on her. But now he didn’t know why the fear wasn’t there, or why it had faded into defiance before he could even see it. “I was informed you were coming home with a lot of home-needs and foodstuff; how come?”

“Why this now?”

“Answer me… you’re not working anymore!”

“It was bought… someone bought them.”

“Somebody bought them,” he stressed. “And why?”

MyAngel’s eyes got glazer if not anything. “Don’t be so damned suspicious and domineering. I never liked austere guys… if you’re getting real austere.”

“I’ve been austere enough. You can find that out if you want to; I mean now, if you really want to try. Some other bitches already did in my life so far.”

“So now you think I planned to give you some cruel humiliation… after I might have used your naïve love to selfishly fill some stop-gap?” This was her question, though that fetching face had looked strained.

“Maybe… Dumebi, maybe; it’s pretty simple when you think of it. Why else I had those warning strange dreams… like protective divine snapshots? I wrote them down in their series and can rattle them here off-hand if you want. Maybe I should throw in that suspicious disregard… the episode of that boycotted party.” He watched her. “It even gets simpler; the first strange dream wouldn’t have followed by another stranger dream, pointing seriously with same snapshot in making. The height of that disregard wouldn’t have come with another loomed up mystery that rather made good your escape.

“And now this gigantic generosity; a kind of this favour from a man who’s not your fiancé amounts to deviation and becomes reprehensible. It calls for an explanation that might not again keep your status with plaudits. And that leaves the truth. Funny; isn’t it?” He grinned.

Anyway, she didn’t smile; the beautiful face that strained now faded. For the first time since the day SonOfMan saw that it grew soft and tender; and if he hadn’t known better, would have thought she was feeling pity and remorseful.

“Before you took notice of me and came to woo me, I’d known you and liked you,” slowly she started with the benefit of hindsight. “So I became your girlfriend and was besotted by your love… then I longed so much to allow free rein to my passion. And in order to boost you with greater mastery to love me better and sweeter, I allowed a matrimonial vow that rough and ready hush-hush way we did it. It was with every fibre of true love in me, because all my dream has been the world of us as husband and wife.

“Did you ever wonder why I let myself carry your baby? I think I could tell… and I’ll say it with every bit of credence, since you’re accusing me of fake love. I was never part of any mind… mine or another… to deride your proposal or our pre-nuptial oath. I actually thought you and I together was matching predestination… and I still think.

“Now your little prayer all the time was God to give you a home and children of yours before thirty, and I had so much wanted to help that dream. Throwing away shame that unbelievable way, I conceived by you and for you. That wasn’t enough; I was expected to abort that baby because of the danger it posed on my life, but I wouldn’t dare see your seed in me get rid of. WyiWorri, I couldn’t for the sake of this love. I went through hell with that pregnancy until Satan, the evil sadist, at last got that child miscarried. Was it even miscarriage? It was stillborn at the dangerous sixth month, but upon that you were…”

“That’s enough!” SonOfMan, in short, felt foolish. He didn’t have to stretch his memory much backwards to hook up again with that desired thought. It was a niche for one horrible fact of remarkable interest. Except MyAngel was the greatest actress that a generation of talent scouts had overlooked, or his own judgment had gone completely cockeyed, the alleged cruel plan against him hit her with the same shock-sad syndrome it had given him. He didn’t call for a waiter; he went over the counter and demanded for beer himself. The way she seemed to move events to suit herself was quite defusing, and also disturbing; his thought was too labyrinthine to make sense now. A lot of pointing crazy things was going on his head, and he couldn’t level them. He thought she realized what he had come for—to make her tremble with compunction, not having the power and smartness to hark back, exploring avenues for an easy let-out. Meen, it weakened him. Yeah, it broke his legs and arms.

He stood there and gulped all, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand instinctively, and then demanding another. He went back to his seat, took a good gulp from this second bottle before he said; “I’m sorry, my Angel; I know it’s a big-big mistake, but it seems in love race I never make small ones.” He looked at her cowardly.

MyAngel levelled her eyes with his; the fire of love was in them once more. “That’s okay, sweetheart.” She gave a smile that said she meant it too. “I perfectly understand.”

It felt good now, and he laughed. Hell, it felt good! But, how? Yeah, how did it feel good when you confronted your wife-to-be with villainous charges—villainous hot charges of double-booking her marriage, and in which yours was the fake? How did it exactly feel good when she let you throw some blatant infidelity charges in her teeth, and then perfectly understood why without being sore about it?

Well, it was a pretty joke, because MyAngel thought it crazy and was laughing too. The idea was you could laugh off worries that you couldn’t scare off with a frown.

Prince Williams walked in.

They were still laughing until Prince Williams sat down and fixed inquisitive eyes on them. MyAngel briefly narrated him what went between them.

“You, WyWorri!” Prince Williams spat out.

“Don’t even call my name; I survived it.” SonOfMan gulped the last of his drink and moved his hand to call for another, but Prince Williams stopped him with disapproving gesture. He then continued; “I get in trouble a fucking lot that way. I make mistakes… big mistakes,” he admitted freely.

“Maybe you’re ready now to curb your uncultured inklings,” Prince Williams said to SonOfMan. “They’re too abusive.”

“Of course,” MyAngel agreed readily; “or else, sweetheart, you’d get in too much to get out hardly, if you do that big mistake to the wrong people.”

“Right, my Lady… to the wrong people,” SonOfMan regurgitated; but she was the wrong people? No, my Lady, to the right people—for I tell you this; you’re fake—you’re the pure wrong people!

Prince Williams learned close to SonOfMan. “You’re with empty stomach, you’re drunk already; now let’s go inside the house.” He stood and looked at MyAngel who stood also.

SonOfMan stood as well.