Episode 16: The Rich, the poor, the miserable love.

in #nigeria7 years ago (edited)

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ENJOY the CONTINUATION!


My heart was speedily racing. In fact, it became as loud as every other audible sound available in the office, the diastoles and systoles banging like some daft studio electrocardiograms. She recorded my encounter with her too? And not only that; she was also preg—God forbid! She better not be!

Why shouldn’t I have known what had always made her so pervasively confident and self-assured in her domineering campaigns? She had had her hands in every pie! Eyes on every door! Ears in every wall! Espionage at its amateurish but lethal best! Sex tapes, surely were incapable of tearing Toro away from me but what if she heard that another girl was pregnant with my child? My boss’s daughter for that matter! A girl of seventeen! Wasn’t that a category of child abuse? If I denied it, Mary could later say it was a rape, and the video, which would reveal otherwise, would be nowhere to be found, certainly.

Why did I even mate with her without using condom in the first place?

“What if she had had HIV? If Toro hears… hmmm… she can’t hear! She mustn’t hear! What to do now? Damn it, damn it, I want to die”. I couldn’t stop kicking things about.

When she told me that her period had stopped and she was not going to abort the pregnancy, which she was sure was there, I stood numb like a bamboo tree being helplessly swayed hither and thither by a harsh wind of trepidation. Her phone was in my shaking hands, eyes gazing upon my very own ruin. A man called lord on tape with a girl, his student, a seventeen-year-old, doing it. Oh look at them, people would say! What depravity!

My eyes lost the good colors at once and I was made by my own confusion a little baby, unable to look up at the aftermaths of my… what would Aunt Arike have called it, puerile actions? Her eyes were like whips I had to flee from and as much as I was aware of my need to make a move, I was completely dumb and clueless of what to do or say. I wished to pretend I wasn’t moved at all, that I was sure she was bluffing and I didn’t believe her at all, but what about my body language? The old frame of quaking bones and muscles gave me away.

“It’s a lie, you’re not pregnant for me,” I heard myself say through quivering lips, finally forgetting the danger of voice recording.

She frowned, snatched her phone out of my hands, hissed like a fat mamba and made her way for the door.

“Go and say your prayers,” she snapped. “The first chance I get at sneaking out of school, I’ll go for test and I’ll not abort it. The test is just formality though, I know I’m pregnant,” she chorused outward and banged the door closed.

That night, I kept pacing up and down in my room. I switched off my phone to avoid phone calls or any interaction with Toro, she might suspect my stress and try to find out why, if Mary had not reached out to her already, telling her to leave her boyfriend alone for they’re having a baby soon. Greatest tragedy in the history of mankind! Unimaginable! If Toro heard this one, she wouldn’t ignore it, we would end for good, I was sure.

Someone knocked the door and frozen me up like a Spanish barracuda. I didn’t move or say a word until the person called out “Uncle” and I realized it was one of my neighbours. I opened the door and heard him blabber about when the last time was that we paid Security Fee to the Community. I listened so attentively I forgot everything he said the moment he got off my face, along with what I said in response. I paced till 3am when I got bathed, earlier than I ever did and then, well, unintentionally, fell asleep.

Everything about that morning was unusual, the first evidence lying in the ridiculous fact that I woke up at exactly 10:31am. At first I was trying to convince, no, confuse myself that it was a Saturday, but no, it wasn’t and I knew it wasn’t. My speed was outstanding at pushing myself out of the house for school where it seemed after all, nobody cared whether I was in school or not. The Principal was the head of the school aside the proprietor who owned the school himself, and I, as the Registrar, was a power on my own, answerable to the proprietor alone, and since he was not around and the Attendance Register of staff passed through my office every day, I concluded I could easily join the team of corrupt individuals in the country in exerting some manipulations.

The office was already swept by Mary’s spy. I would have got her replaced but since Big Victor’s arrival was all I awaited, I guessed there was no need. I switched appliances on; air conditioner, television and others. I always re-wiped my seat before I resumed it, who knows who might have gone spiritual by sprinkling some black powder on it.

I hardly sat before I spotted a note placed right at my reach with the stapler placed on it to hold it from being blown away. It read: “Sorry, your resignation is denied. You are going nowhere.”

Ah—ah, what? It was Mary’s handwriting and looking at what the note was placed on; torn pieces of my resignation letter, I was exasperated. The indulgence was way over the perimeters of common sense. How could she have done that? Did Big Victor’s Secretary give it to her or did she take it from there? It was no use going to ask though; she would probably be surprised too and then begin to have suspicions and ludicrous theories about ‘whats’ and ‘whys’.

I was feeling suffocated. I considered telling Aunt Arike, but no, that wouldn’t be a good idea. It would be silly to trust her that much. So I barged out of the office and went to Mary’s class. A teacher was there. I asked that she was released to me for a minute. She was, and as the giant barrel of gun powder rolled after me towards my office, I started thinking of what to say.

When we got to my office, I went over to the table and took a handful of the torn pieces of the letter, held it up and surged back to her.

“You did this, didn’t you?” I spat angrily.

At first, she didn’t respond, but when I opened my mouth to utter another question, she nodded like an obediently offensive puppy with breakfast bone of a visiting grandmother hung in the crevices of her mouth.

“Why?” I asked furiously.

She spread her hands apart as a gesture of… whatever it was that I didn’t grab, and shrugged.

I moved very close to her and swore my tirade.

“If you think you can use your pregnancy sham to hoodwink or blackmail me, or to hold me hostage or anything, you’re digging your own grave, Mary, you heard me? You’re digging your own damn grave! Come, do I look like a fool to you? Do you know how old I am? Do you even think writing a letter determines whether I’ll stay or leave? You don’t know anything! You don’t know me! You can eat your fake pregnancy if you like, you can do whatever you like, today is the last day you’ll see me here. And after I’ve gone, you can go and fuck yourself, do you understand? Fuck yourself! Fuck you!”

She stepped back and exhaled calmly, not even seeming bothered or moved a wee bit by all the fires I’ve spat.

“True wisdom is in knowing that one knows nothing. You said I don’t know anything, I agree and that’s wisdom. We’re adults here, at leas—”
“Shut up. Stop saying we’re adults. You’re a child, do you hear me? You’re just a goddamn child messing around with adults, and that makes you only more childish, not in any way adult. Because you can speak English or know some quotable quotes doesn’t mean you’re qualified to enter the same league with me.”
“Okay, I agree with whatever you say, you’re my husband.”
“You’re out of your mind! Who is your husband?”
“Whoever happens to be the father of the baby in my stomach is my husband, and since you’re the only one who has had sex with—”
“Shut up, pregnancies aren’t carried in the stomach, Miss Adult, it’s in the womb.”
“Thanks baby, pardon my mista—”
“I’m not your baby! I’ll slap you if you say that again.”
“You’ll slap me? Ah, okay o, don’t slap me o. Let me just use this opportunity to remind you of the question papers I asked for. The exam is in few weeks, the papers are with you already, I’m very sure of that.”
“And so what? Huh, what makes you think I’ll ever give you that, hun?”
“Hmmm… I don’t know… maybe because I asked nicely?”
“Nonsense. You’re dreaming.”
“Whatever! I just know you’ll give me. Do you want to know why? Let me tell you. You know, since you’ve tampered with our TV at the dining hall, I’ve been going to my dad’s office to watch TV with my friends, and… while we were watching Channels TV, was it not last night? I saw something, viewers were encouraged to share videos of odd events in their neighborhoods with them, they would include them in their news or some programs or discussions or… whatever. And I thought, wow, if Adebayo doesn’t give me those question papers, hmmm, I’ll make him popular through Channels TV, as if I already knew you would be this funny.”

She giggled.

“Just see now, I wasn’t wrong,” continued she. “And listen very carefully, if you dare mention it again that you’ll leave this school or abandon your handiwork inside of my stom—womb, I won’t care about the consequences, I’ll release the video of you and I on the internet too, in addition to you and Aunt Arike in the office, all I’ll have to do is email a popular blog and viral it’ll surely go, a teacher and a student doing it at the staff quarters, sounds yummy, doesn’t it? I wonder what my dad would do and what everyone would say."

“I want the photocopies of those question papers latest by Wednesday next week, what did I call it? Wednesday next week! And again, baby boo, sweetheart, don’t ever threaten that you’ll slap me again, ever! You don’t even look good frowning like that. You better start smiling so that you can live long. Mtchewww…” She hissed protractedly and boiled out of the office. It was break time.

The person I needed to see that time was Phillips, he always had a good way around everything but he was nowhere to be found. I told Aunt Arike about the bills, what really transpired, leaving the details of intercourse between Mary and I out, plus the case of question papers, excluded. Big Victor returned to school that week but I couldn’t talk about resignation again.

During the weekend, Kevin called me, said he was at the school, that I should tell him where I live, he would come. I didn’t, I went to school to meet him instead. He came by a 2012 Jeep Wrangler, red and very neat. I’ve been warned to be wary of him, but, receiving his call had only got me curious, not scared. We drove about the streets talking about the hike in fuel price and the corruption in Nigerian government. I knew that was not the subject of concern, the real issue would be discussed soon enough, I flew along.

When he parked in front of an Afrikan Kitchen, I knew we had reached our debate venue. We parked, walked inside and found a table by a corner to the right, looking out at our jeep through the transparent glass wall. He asked what I wanted to eat, I said I wasn’t hungry. He asked about drinks, I said water would do, so he ordered for water too. And we sat and looked at each other’s faces.

“Toro and I,” he started, “mehn, we’ve separated six sorry times and still got back together. You know, it’s kind of our thing now, really weird but… it’s perfect, research says that couples who have peaceful marriages are those who have had the opposite during their courtships but still coped. Bad beginnings ain’t saying shit about nothing. Her mum wanted her in Paris but she was always in New York with me. I’ve been a bad boy until I met her, huh… you know, smoking weird stuffs and beating up people, mum’s gonna say she ain’t gonna waste any more of her prayers on me, I’m a lost bastard and lo, stupid thing.”

He laughed, I didn’t.

“But Toro came and… she changed me and gave me a new bearing. Look at that, take anyone you know as a bad guy and times it by ten, or five? No, ten, and that’s who I was, but she changed me! She loves me! There’s this film, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, starring Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, that’s what my buddies call us, Smithies. When we met the couple at an event and took a picture together at a MTV event they attended, Toro and I with the Hollywood folks, we had a long lasting laughter from our crazy friends that time, Smithies groupie, fucking wrestlers, bloody asses, damn, it was funny. Bottom line, we’ve always survived our troubles, no shit.

“I heard about you for the first time in the last month. Teju called me, said there’s this Tunde guy, keeping Toro… preoccupied? He could snatch her from me and stuffs. He was only joking though, that’s not likely, actually… actually I wasn’t moved, just another break session attaché, we always mend. It made me feel somehow lit up though, you know, imagining your girlfriend with another guy, some guy! You’re like holy crap, what the heck! But I trust you’re a gentle guy, you couldn’t have… Tunde, are you sure you don’t wanna use a drink right now?”

“I’m okay, really. Thanks.”

“All right. So… so I purposely came to Naija to meet you. I wish to know more of you, be your friend. In fact, you can come to New York anytime you want. I think I can arrange that. We could hang out, you know? We could visit Chinatown or Ellis Island or the Central Park Zoo or Bryant Park, many places to see, Rockefeller Center, Museum of Modern Art, Radio City Music Hall, Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty and heap of sights for weary eyes. Teju told me you’re a decent guy, I’ve got babes you’re gonna be blown by, but I reckon you don’t have a thing for girls, do you?”

I shook my head wordlessly.

“Tunde… I really need you to let go of my girlfriend, I’m serious. I’ve waited for her and I think this is the best time for us to plan our marriage, don’t be the one standing in the way please! It ain’t gonna be good for nobody. And I trust you’re a reasonable guy, in fact, I’m in love with your personality. What do you say?”

“Ah,” I sighed and smiled courteously, more like, this guy is a jerk, “quite horrendous a time to discuss this but… I agree it’s better sorted out than put aside. I really appreciate that you’ve organized a talk like this, what else could have been better? This century is a century for the gentlemen. Okay, where should I— alright. Toro and I, our meeting… it was one borne of divine coincidence. A human in a goddess’s stamina, all simple yet mouthful for the eyes to consume all at once! We started out as friends at first, then more came out of it as we began to fall more, and… before we knew it… we were in love with each other. She mentioned nothing about you during the time, well, not until after Teju threatened me with the name. Then you came into the picture, the birthday party.

“As much as I love her now, I can’t imagine someone else taking her from me. That makes me understand perfectly how you feel too. I know you love her, just as much as I do, women are lucky beings. This issue… I don’t think I’m a threat to you as I also don’t see you as a threat to me, really. I’ll suggest we leave the decision to the girl and respect it. I wouldn’t fight it if she chose you over me. And with all you’ve said, it’s very likely she chooses you.” I shrugged, pushing my mouth out spontaneously.

Silence… I took three sips of water.

“Tunde, you’re a smart guy, I like you,” he said. “Do you wish to be my friend? Do you wish to come to New York?”
“I’m busy in Nigeria here, got business to oversee. I don’t think I can afford to travel right now, thanks. But whenever I’m free, it’ll be a surprise visit.”
He smiled briefly. “Tundeeee, okay. I just… about Toro, I just want you to know that my life will end without her. You’d be saving someone’s life by letting her go, completely, and I’ll compensate you for it, I promise.”

I laughed softly. At first he was trying to seduce me with coming to New York as if it was some Garden of Eden, probably sure that eighty percent of Nigerians want to travel to the US of A. I would want to though, but not in that manner that insulted my ego, not when taken for a barbarian who needed to be massaged until a sharp knife is found.

“I understand, Kevin. It’s nice meeting you but if you don’t mind, there’s a place I’d love to go now, no, don’t bother to take me. Is the number you called me by yours?”
“Yes, for as long as am in the country. I’ll give you my New York number most assuredly though.”
“Okay, no problem, I’ll collect it some other time, let me save this one for now. We’ll see some other time. Thanks for the water.” I rose and pushed back the chair.

He followed me outside, the first bike I saw wasn’t going to my direction but I boarded it anyway to just get away from him. The evening of that same day again, he called to invite me to Teju’s house in Lekki, I told him I had traveled, I wasn’t around. I mean, what kind of stupidity was that to ask someone to leave a girl for you after spiking his drinks with marijuana? Someone who would choose me over you twenty times before she even listens to the spelling of your name? Statue of Liberty my ass!

The question papers were the most protected items in the school, we were to protect them as if everything depended on protecting them. Mary, as powerful as she was with her fingers in every pie had had no access to the question papers, ever, solely because the people who were permanently in charge of question papers happened to be members of the Council of Stakeholders. She and her colleagues had consequently come after me, new face and totally ignorant, couldn’t have been polluted by the Council, best candidate to fill such a stool. They made me the Registrar for the purpose of using me to interject question papers for them.

Teachers were warned to protect their questions as if everything depended on it; Mary could threaten teachers for anything and make them shiver but threatening them for question papers? No, she wouldn’t do that. If she did, it would leak and her father who placed that gravity on question papers would be pissed off. When the questions got to my table, I was to assess them to see which ones needed being discarded if they weren’t up to our standard. It was a stupid idea though, how was I supposed to detect an error, say in a subject that was literally gibberish to me? I had accepted them and I was to keep them with me throughout the exam period, giving out whichever one they requested, any time they requested it.

I knew Mary would try to come and get the questions by herself in the middle of the night, so, I looked for the entrance to the roof and after I found it in the toilet, I stood on the WC to have a look in the dark warm quiet environment, kept the papers there. The papers were heavy, they would break the asbestos but there was the mouth of the wall at reach, I lay the bundles side by side atop it and covered the ceiling back. I hoped she would not get that desperate to go to that length on her search. I summoned the cleaner though, asked her to give me the key she had. She didn’t want to, judging by her reluctant looks, but she couldn’t refuse the direct command, in fact, I had to follow her to the cleaners’ quarters to collect the key so that she wouldn’t vanish. Mary’s ultimatum was Wednesday but I had thought it over and concluded not to give the papers to her. I had a plan; if I could get her phone stolen and get her laptop at home also stolen, there would be no video left. I had a key, the one she had given me when she wanted me to meet her. I just needed to know when to go.

Wednesday came finally, she came but unlike I had rehearsed, I told her I would give her the papers but it was just too early. She asked me to swear by God’s name, I said “I don’t swear but I promise”, she said “okay”. On the Friday of that week, unlike Toro and I had planned, we traveled to Oyo, my hometown by a 2011 Volvo c70. It wasn’t an expensive car, just around Eight Million Naira. It had special features like standard front fog lights, stability control and anti-skid system, remote controlled alarm and locking system, door-mounted inflatable curtain airbags, optional dual xenon head lamps, remote garage door opener, and so on. You can’t mingle with people like them and not be car literate. She wore some skirts probably to look decent to my mum; mum herself was eagerly waiting to see her son’s fiancée. It was merry travelling with her but I was not very happy. Anytime the thought about fathering Mary’s child crossed my mind, I always perspired like a hell chef.

We got to Oyo sooner than I ever experienced, as slow as we moved, our car was easily putting most vehicles behind like bad memories. It was an excuse of mine that ended her up driving but we already debated and concluded that I would drive on our way back, so I played the travel guide. After two hours and thirty-five minutes when I saw the numerous Owode lights glittering from distance below us, I knew we had left Eleekara behind. As we passed by the three-storey IBEDC office and numerous banks that lined the sides of the roads, memories of past times started oozing to the surface of my mind. The new governor of Oyo State had really touched the ancient empire, notable changes in the layout of the popular neighborhood.

There was no much to point at since it was night already, at least, not as much as it would’ve been during the day. We drove straight on, passed by my favorite supermarket and cyber café, Good Hall and Goshen Cyber café respectively. The General Hospital came into view and soon enough, the enchanting illumination of the Federal School of Surveying backing our house came into view. We took a right into our street and drove through the opened gate unto the receiving hands of mum and sisters. They weren’t only excited about the coming guest but about seeing me too; they hadn’t seen me for a long time. There was no light but the generator was working.

“Óga ò, jenerétò yìí síì ñ sisé.” ("wow, this generator is still working.")

Pleasantries were the response and like Toro must have watched in Yoruba movies, she knelt before my mum and got pulled up by mum’s hands with smiles, laughter and excitements all over her face. Toro looked at the house for a jiffy and nodded appreciatively, thanks to my dad, he was a great artist when it came to drawing the plans of his houses. Half-roofed, half decked with three separate staircases to three different decks to sit or even sleep on at night, lots of ornamental plants smelling like the very tulips of paradise. They must have mopped the tiles, they never shone better. The mosque too, a miniature of an Arabian sheik’s Masjid, stood brilliantly by the left, never fading in its black and white. A very large compound, tidy and completely white with what was left of the gold that dad had put there before he died.

We progressed, hands on shoulders into the house, more beautiful than I had memory of, joined couches capable of taking thirty sitters comfortably and well scented atmosphere with pictures hung on the walls. Our àmàlà (cassava flour) with ewédú elégusí (vegetables plus melon soup) and eran màálù (beaf) was already laid majestically on the dining table, not for us alone but for everyone. We all sat, ate, and Toro fell in love with the food immediately she tasted it, she said so herself. At that table that night with my two sisters, mum and Toro, I felt fulfilled as I watched the smiling faces and listened to the humorous remarks; my sisters were good at making people laugh forcibly. Who cares about table manners!

After the dinner, we returned to the living room to hear mum recount the stories of how I used to dance like Michael Jackson in front of the mirror for hours and never wanted to run any errand when I was young, my childhood stories she never could have happily recounted before. She was shown albums, little part of them.

“Oh God, you look so much alike!” was her remark when she saw my dad’s photograph of when he was my age.

We didn’t get naughty that night with each other; we only talked after we were finally alone till almost the break of dawn and fell asleep. My love for her increased at every second and Mary’s plight was totally unremembered. She loved my sisters so much, well, little sisters had their charms, it’s impossible not to love them.

On the following day, we took just the tea made of lemon grass and sorghum leaves with peak milk which smelled of my days with my ol’man and went out before the food could be readied. We bought local herbs on our way to my old friend’s, Afeez, a.k.a. Isfdca, pronounced as Isfidica and spoiled our tea’s good taste in our mouths. With Isfdca, we went to the Old Oyo National Park, the Secondary School and College of Education I attended.

“Behold… The very first College of Education in Nigeria, source of tons of teachers and teachers’ teachers. Teacher’s College by the Church Missionary Society (C.M.S.) in 1896, then the name got changed to St. Andrews College of Education, Oyo State College of Education and now Emmanuel Alayande College of Education, Oyo. This is where I was baked into this man you love.”

“It’s a very beautiful school. It should be a University.”
“By that, you would be talking about the buildings and layout, well, I don’t know what to say on that. Let’s go.”

It was fun as I drove her through Yoruba history, by the ancient Gbadegesin, Ladigbolu, Atingisi, Bashorun, Apinni, and Ashipa’s regal neighborhoods. We went into the Alaafin’s palace to see what was left of the artifacts passed down from the very hands of our ancestors, Oranmiyan, Ajaka, Sango, Aganju, Kori, Oluaso, Onigbogi, Ofinran, Erugunoju, Oromoto, Ajiboyede, Abipa, Obalokun, Ajagbo, Odarawu, Kanran, Jayin, Ayibi, Osinyago, Ojigi, Gberu, Amuniwaiye, Onisile, Labisi, Awonbioju, Agboluaje, Majeogbe, Abiodun, Aole Arogangan, Adebo, Maku, Majotu, Amodo and so on. She saw this tortoise that had lived for hundreds of years. She listened to the original version of Yoruba language uttered from the mouths of the very descendants of the great Oduduwa. At first, she was sober, telling me that Hollywood ought to come down here to collect great histories for films, but wouldn’t anyone laugh at that? Doesn’t the West call us a people without history? I weaned her off of the brood with Àmàlà àti àbùlà (cassava flour and soup) with antelope meat which we got at a canteen on Isfdca’s behest.

We took pictures everywhere we went before Isfdca returned to his business outlet and we to home returned. We plucked oranges and tangelos at our backyard. The day passed with my sisters and Toro playing ludo, the youngest always beating them. While they were doing that, I was busy reading through the novels I had written and left at home since a long time, No Blood, Dance or Die, House of Protocols, End of the World, Gods are in Trouble and so on. Full of cobwebs though, the room I once slept in before I converted it to a study reminded me of good old times that drew tears from my eyes. We went out with my sisters on Sunday, I showed them Atiba University, Ajayi Crowther University, Federal College of Education (Special) and the old Technical College which was no more popular.

We had to travel that day, so, we returned home early to announce our departure. Mum said it was already late and it would get dark before we get to Lagos, but who doesn’t like night travels anyway? When she realized she couldn’t change our minds, she sat Toro down and talked to her, urged her to take care of me for her, she promised she would. Mum prayed for us a lot. She called me to the backstage and advised me never to let go of that girl as she liked her and she’d like her to be her son’s wife.

“Mooom! Everything is in God’s hands, we have to leave now. It’s getting late.”

She started praising me in Oba Onisile attributed eulogies which made me feel proud too.

Toro thanked mum for her hospitality, said the visit was a spirit lifter for her and she would be back again. She invited my sisters to visit her sometime soon and they promised they would, shedding tears. Guess it’s always easy for girls to like one another quickly.

Around 5:32pm, we left Oyo and sped towards Ibadan. We talked a lot until we got to Ibadan when she fell asleep. There was silence in the car then and I didn’t bother to play any song so as not to wake her. I loved the journey; it was filled with one of the happiest moments of my life, seeing my mum that happy, and my siblings too, that cheery. But I was being robbed of those beautiful feelings as the memories of Mary’s situation flushed back to my mind. Every minute towards Lagos returned the previously sad guy back in me.

Every now and then, I glanced at the beautiful girl beside me, what else could a sane man ever call fulfillment if not that? She was a living proof of absolute beauty and complete flawlessness. I reassured myself, Mary was not going to be my problem, Toro and I were going to travel soon, I was going to escape from everything and become an owner of one of those expensive cars. I was going to be a boss. I was going to evolve. I sat back and heaved deeply, all I would need to do was get rid of all those videos by getting rid of Mary’s laptop and phone; if I could destroy those, she would surely have no leverage left on me and I would be free to redraft my resignation letter.

We were close to Lagos when something happened. When I tried to avoid driving into a pothole, I lost control of my grip on the steering and I got jolted forward with Toro completely bouncing against the air bag which came on but was useless as we got squeezed in-between two trailers and by the time one of them slowed down to free us, scraping the door at my side completely off, we only became a golf egg for another trailer to kick off the road into the woods and the bonnet racked into a fat tree with several vehicles somersaulting behind us and rupturing one another’s bodies. I guessed a trailer also skidded off the road after us and emptied its tomatoes into the woods.

Of course I didn’t know those details at the time, I only later read about it in Road Safety officer’s records. It happened so fast and I felt numb, with blood filling my eyes, nose, ears and I began to choke on my own blood. There was this heat like I was being burnt and this parallel tone louder than any sound I’ve ever heard in my head. I knew I was no more in the car, it was getting darker and the sky was directly looking down at me. The right eye was totally covered in blood; the left still saw what was to be seen. I saw people pouring water on my head and assessing me, shouting, wailing and running about although I couldn’t pick any word.

I couldn’t breathe very well. Out of the corners of my working eye, I peeped, not really understanding what had happened yet, I saw our green Volvo, pressed to a pulp, being hit by some men with axes, shouting incoherently and running about. And soon enough, the lifeless body of someone covered in blood, someone who wore what I could still recognize as Toro’s wears was withdrawn from the wreck, and then it dawned on me, we’ve had an accident.

I mouthed Toro’s name on my lips and the noise in my head slowed down a bit, I heard someone said repeatedly, “Is she alive? Is she alive?” and someone replied him repeatedly too, shouting, “I don’t know, I don’t know, this one is not breathing, help me carry her, help us lift her, help!” and that was all I saw before darkness took over and I lost consciousness.

....to be Continued!

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Sweet story of mixed feelings of love , regrets, confusion etc, the key actors on the story are really strong entities all together; I mean Mary and her boy friend.

I really acknowledge the hardwork and the time you coughed out for this post.

You'll surely reap your reward someday, please never be discouraged at all for whatever reason.

We are watching! Steemit is watching.

Excellent post.

Thank you for the encouragement

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