Chapter 25

 

 

MICHAEL TOSSED UNCOMFORTABLY ON the futon in his study. Last night, he’d felt too ashamed to sleep in the bedroom with Esi. How could he face her after the way he’d reacted?

Standing up, he stretched his aching back. The house was unusually quiet, making him frown. Normally, Esi would be working with the radio on while waiting for him to wake up, then she’d serve him breakfast. She’d been immeasurably kind to him, always doing things to make his life easier and more comfortable. She gave herself freely to him regardless of his actions, yet, each time, he gave her pain in return. Had he gone too far this time?

He needed to find her and apologise—for everything. He couldn’t bear to let another minute go by without telling her he was sorry. Shame engulfed him. He didn’t understand how he could possibly have lost control, and he feared it might be too late for him to win her back. He needed to apologise not because of the guilt he felt, but because, he admitted without shame, I don’t deserve her, but I love her.

He rushed out of the room, bumping into Ama in the corridor, passing her as if he hadn’t noticed her, but she followed him like a shadow. He checked the sitting room and the kitchen and then the bedroom. Where was she? When he came out of the room, Ama stood at the door.

“What is it?” He didn’t yell, but his impatience was clear.

“Auntie Esi is not at home.”

“Where is she?”

“She isn’t at home,” she repeated and began to cry.

Not wanting to betray the dread that had started creeping up his spine, he said, “Calm down. She must be in the garden or somewhere around.”

“I’ve searched everywhere.”

“She’s probably gone for a walk.” He stepped out and checked the compound.

“No.” Her cheeks were soaked with tears. “She—I don’t think she slept here at all.”

He shook his head. His wife might be capable of a lot of things, but not that. Besides, where would she go?

“I don’t think so,” he assured Ama who hadn’t stopped crying.

However, the stubborn determination in her eyes compelled him to do a thorough search. Esi was nowhere to be found. Her clothes were intact, which indicated she couldn’t have gone far. The dread intensified, though, but he didn’t know where else to look.

Three.

Four.

Five o’clock, and Esi still wasn’t home. Panic set in. Terrible thoughts haunted him. What if she had left him?

Marriage can always be dissolved, but guilt is a lot harder to erase, he remembered saying before.

Isn’t this what you wanted? a voice in his head taunted.

That was then, he thought. He’d married her for convenience and to avoid guilt, but now, all he wanted was to have his wife back. He wanted to pray, but he could only think of “Dine with us, oh Lord.”

He brought out a decanter half-filled with Brandy and gulped down a jigger. He poured out another, then, giving that up because it wasn’t helping, he slumped onto the carpet in the sitting room.

“Won’t you look for her?” Ama asked.

“I don’t know where to look,” he said more to himself than to her.

“It’s your fault!” she yelled and ran to her room.

Michael continued to wallow in self-pity. If this had happened two weeks after the marriage, he’d have thrown a party. Now, he realised how much he needed her. He was addicted to her. His every vein, every muscle, every organ cried out her name. What if something had happened to her? Could he ever forgive himself? He longed to have her in his arms, to wake up with her every morning, to tell her he loved her. Now, it was too late. If only he could know she was safe. What was he going to do? What would he tell her parents? He reached out for the phone and dialled Osei’s number.

“Hello.”

“Osei.”

The recorded voice went on, “You’ve reached the voicemail of…”

He swore. Where the hell are you?

“…please leave a message after the beep…”

Osei seldom checked his machine for messages, but there was nothing wrong with hoping.

“Osei.” He passed his hand over his head. “Erm…” Tears misted his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He swallowed. “Oh, God, bro…I think sh—she’s gone.”

He hung up and broke down.

From where he sat, he prayed. “God, if you’re really there, please let me find her. Even—even if she doesn’t want me anymore, just let me be sure she’s okay.”

He opened his eyes. He’d never really prayed. Or at least, he’d never meant a prayer as much as he did this one, and if God really heard prayers, then he had to answer his—for Esi’s sake.

The doorbell rang, but he didn’t mind it initially. Ama resurfaced and went to open the door.

“Mr. Badu,” the visitor said. “I’m Dr. Cruickshank.”

Michael sprang up like one possessed and threw himself at the doctor.

“You bastard.” He grabbed the doctor’s shirt. “Where have you taken her?”

Dr. Cruickshank held his hands but didn’t fight back. Gradually, as Michael’s energy left him, he released his grip, breaking into tears again.

The older man waited until Michael had calmed down before he asked, “What is the problem between the two of you?”

“None of your damn business.”

His choice of language would be considered extremely improper, but he didn’t care, and in any case, if the doctor took offence, he didn’t show it.

“On the contrary,” Dr. Cruickshank said easily. “Your wife arrived at my doorstep incredibly early this morning, looking tired and dishevelled. She refused to eat or have a bath.” He shook his head, as if getting rid of the memory. “You see, your wife reminds me of my own daughter, and I can’t help being troubled by her distress.”

“She’s fed up with me.” He tried to suppress the pain he’d brought upon himself.

“She begged me not to come here. In fact, she doesn’t know I’m here.” The doctor hesitated a little. “Now I understand her reaction when I told her about the baby.”

That snapped him to attention.

“The baby?” He stared at the older man as the news sank in. “Esi’s pregnant? You mean she’s going to have my baby?”

It was the sweetest news he’d heard in ages, then his excitement suddenly vanished. How could he rejoice over spilt milk?

“I love her,” he said. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I love her.”

“Then let’s bring her back home.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. Hope he’d given up re-emerged. Five minutes later, they were en route to the doctor’s house. Michael couldn’t wait to see Esi again and explain himself, beg if he had to, so they could put aside the past and start over. He could no longer imagine life without her.

“I’m sorry about the things I said to you at home.”

“It’s okay. You needed to vent your frustration.”

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

“She loves you a lot. Anybody can see that. I don’t know why she ran away, but yes, I think she’ll forgive you.”

“I hope she does, Doc, because I need my family back.” Mentally, he prepared himself for some grovelling.

“You’ll have to be very gentle with her. Now that she’s expecting, anything at all can prove fatal.”

They entered the vast compound of Dr. Cruickshank’s residence, a large house surrounded by a well-manicured flower garden, but the beauty was lost on Michael. The doctor’s last comment stuck in his head. Could he have harmed her or the baby?

A woman in a batik boubou and flip-flops walked out to meet them. When the car came to a halt, she leant over the driver’s window.

“Meet my wife, Anita. Anita, Mr. Badu.”

They acknowledged each other with a nod, knowing this was no time for pleasantries.

“Honey, she’s gone.”

Michael’s heart sank. He should have known something would go wrong. Let’s bring her home. It had been too easy, the news too good. He shouldn’t have expected to simply swoop in and return home with her.

“Why did you allow her to leave?” Dr. Cruickshank asked his wife.

“I didn’t. She finally agreed to freshen up, so I went to prepare her bath. When I came back, she’d disappeared.”

“Where could she have gone?” The question was directed at Michael.

“I wish I knew.” He slammed his head against the seat. “She doesn’t know Accra well.”

“She seems to be managing all right,” Dr. Cruickshank said. “I still can’t believe she found her way to my house.”

“What about your hometown?” Anita asked.

“I doubt it,” he replied, although it was the only answer that made sense.

“She didn’t have money, remember?”

He swore before he could stop himself. “She didn’t have money?”

It seemed as though Fate was determined to destroy him with every new piece of information. He deserved it, though. He needed to be punished for the magnitude of his sins against her. He only hoped his sentence didn’t include a lifetime without her.

The doctor turned to Michael. “I didn’t tell you this before. When Esi got here, she was in a state. It looked like she had been mugged. Her money and the bag she had with her—”

He balled his fists as anger flared. “Did they harm her?”

“No,” Anita assured him. “It seems they just wanted money, so when she handed them her bag, they walked away.”

“They didn’t harm her.” Dr. Cruickshank repeated, giving Michael’s shoulder a gentle tap. “We’ll find her.”

Michael nodded.

There was a short pause before the doctor spoke again.

“What’s next?” He checked his time, then grunted. “My watch has stopped again.”

“It’s six-thirty,” Michael provided.

“Should we go to the police?” Dr. Cruickshank asked.

“No, not the police. Not yet,” Michael begged.

“Why not? They are more equipped to handle this situation.”

“It’s too late in the day to go to the police. They’ll wait ’til morning, anyway. They usually don’t conduct serious searches until a person has been missing for forty-eight hours.”

“Especially in the case of an adult who left home of her own volition,” Anita added. “But if we don’t go to the police, what do we do in the meantime?”

“We look for her,” Michael said.

“Where? It’s getting late.”

“We could start with the bus stations and railway terminal, then the markets and so on. She has to be in one of such places.”

Reluctantly, Dr. Cruickshank agreed, and Anita also nodded.

“If she had no money, she’s likely to be on foot,” she stated.

Michael scribbled something on a paper and gave it to her. “My home number. Could you, please, call and inform my house-help that I’ll be late, but she shouldn’t worry. She’s called Ama.”

Anita took the paper and nodded sympathetically. “Both numbers?”

“The second one is a friend’s. Tell him all what’s happened.” On second thought, he added, “If you get his voicemail, don’t bother. He never checks it.”

Anita smiled and waved as the BMW glided out of the compound.