They say death is a prodigal;

They say he is the enemy;

They say he is a blight on the world,

That he is anathema to life…

But what is life, if not death

Slowly eaten like pineapples?

What is living if not dying

One breath at a time?

_@warpedpoetic

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SCENE ONE: LAGOS

Deborah opened her eyes and saw the ceiling. The ceiling fan twirled happily, spreading lazy morning breeze all over the room. She blinked her eyes and turned her head to the right side of the bed; the side that used to be her hearth, her music, her air... but it was empty and cold. Kunle is gone.

She placed her hand on the cold pillow and caressed it. A masculine scent seemed to peel off the pillow and envelope her in a cuddle. For a moment, she was home. she smiled then she raised her head and stared at the pillow. A wet patch stained the shape of her cheek where it compressed the pillow. She touched her face with her hands; she had been crying again. Kunle is gone.

She rolled to the left and faced the wall; her hands folded over her lips, catching the gasps of pain and forcing them back inside her throat as her body shook with tremors of memory. The tears fell again like they fell before, like they have been fallen since Kunle faded away like the harmattan chill. She laid like that, immersed in the deluge of anguish, in what felt like eternity. Too soon, the tremor faded and the world became still.

She sat up on the bed, dropping her legs to the floor. She patted her feet searching for her bedroom slippers. She found it and slipped her legs into it. She got up from the bed and pattered into the bathroom. Today was Monday and she had to go to work.

At the washstand, she turned on the tap and tried to wash the streaks of tears and pain off her face. The tears left.

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She stared at the image before her and breathed in. As she exhaled, she saw an electric razor sticking out from the edge of the cabinet, hanging over the washstand. She stared at it as the breath left her and slowly she folded into herself. She slowly crumpled like a sodden handkerchief to the ground. There was silence, then a piercing wail spilled out her lips. Kunle is gone.

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SCENE TWO: WARRI

Mabel stared at her mother in silence. Her father was speaking. She let his words wash over her like cold buckets of water on a harmattan night.

“Okoro is a good man. He takes care of his wives and they have never had to ask for anything before it is done. His children attend the best schools in this country. What more do you want? Ejiro talk to your daughter before I lose my temper.” Her father said.

Mabel watched her mother open her mouth to speak, to tell her that her father is right, that it was proper to get married to a man older than her father. She waited for her to say that she would have a good life with the man. She sat there, her hands folded on her laps, her laps closed together properly, waiting for her mother to barter her to the one who won the bid.

“I have watched you grow into a beautiful woman. You are my only surviving child and I will not deceive you. Do what your heart tells you. Your life is yours to live.” Her mother said.

Mabel raised her head and stared from her mother to her father, her mouth open in surprise. Her father’s face was red with surppressed anger. He turned to her mother and pinned her with a searching gaze

“Is this what you want?” he asked.

“My lord, you have many children among whom are many daughters with whom you can conclude your business deals. Mabel is all I have. What will you have me do? I gave up a lot to be your wife, when will I stop sacrificing the things that make me happy to please you? When I die? No, it is not what I want. It is what we want; the three of us. Your daughter is intelligent, smart, beautiful and you know this. Is this not one of the reasons why Chief Okoro is slavering for her like a rabid dog? Instead of hiding her in one old man’s marriage bed, why not teach her all you know about business and let her take your business to places you never thought you’d reach?” her mother replied.

Mabel stared her mother, still surprised. Her mother had never spoken this much in the eighteen years she had lived on this earth. She smiled

“Papa, I am…” She was cut off by her father.

“Shut up girl! When I want your opinion I will let you know.” Her father commanded then he turned to her mother; “You have spoiled her. You people can do whatever you want. I want no part of it.” He added, standing up from the chair.

He looked at the both of them from his great height then he shook his head;
“I will send you to Lagos to meet your uncle Akpos. He will teach you what you need to know. If in one year, you have not delivered to him, something worthy in return for his lessons, you will return back here and marry whoever I deem fit.” He said then he turned to leave the room.

Mabel ran to him and hugged him.

"Thank you Papa. I will make you proud. " she said.

Her father grunted and peeled her off him then he opened the door and stepped out. Mabel turned to her mother, her eyes still wide. She could not believe the turn of events. Her mother smiled sadly. Mabel rushed into her arms laughing

“Thank you mama.” She said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Lagos.

“You have cost me an ally in this house, child. Your father will take his pound of flesh for this and your other mothers will be the hyenas that will feed on what is left when he is done.” Her mother said, holding her shoulders. “Do not fail Mabel. Go to Lagos and prove to your father that you are more than just a pair of breasts and vagina, for sale to the highest bidder.” She added, grabbing her chin and raising her head up. Mabel nodded her head, blushing. Her mother had always been crude. Her words were few but when they fell, it was always a shock. Lagos.

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SCENE THREE: LAGOS

Kunle is gone. Deborah sat at her desk, staring at the manuscript before her. It was a novel manuscript sent in by her friend, Modupe. She had hyped the manuscript claiming that the story had touched her in places she had not ventured to before. She stared at the manuscript, her mind miles away. Her office door opened and one of the associate editors, Mr Timothy, entered the office;

“What are you doing here Debbie? I thought I told you to stay at home?” he asked.

“I was bored and I was crying every two seconds. I need to be with people or I would have hung myself from the ceiling fan.” She replied.

“It is talk like this that made me tell you to take a month off. Get yourself back together and find balance before coming to the office to stare at the walls like it’s a viewing screen.” He said, walking to sit on the only other chair in the office.

“The plot is good. The characters need some stuffing to make them real though. He is more focused on the action than on the characters.” Deborah said as soon as Mr Timothy sat down.

He nodded his head and stared out through the window. The weather was bright and sunny, birds were tweeting and scent of flowers from the garden outside the office filled the room as a soft breeze pushed the window curtains aside for a moment.

“Did you even hear what I said?” Deborah asked.

Mr Timothy nodded his head and sighed. He scratched his balding head and turned to face her.

“We have a problem.” He said softly.

Deborah raised her eyebrow and searched his face with her eyes as if the problem was on his face.

“What is the problem?” she asked.

“Empire Books are suing us for using the cover design by Samson Bakare for the actress Stella Basil’s autobiography.” He said.

“What! But that is preposterous! Samson told us they had rejected the piece, that was why I took it. What sort of deal did he make with Empire books in the first place?” she asked, angry.

“That is the first question our legal department should have asked but it seems to pass bar exams these days, you just need long legs, big boobs and no legal sense whatsoever.” Mr Timothy retorted, frowning at a scratch on the surface of the table.

“Jesus! That girl makes me want to be be a witch sometimes. I will just go visit her at night and leave fifty bags of cement on her big chest. What is the big boss saying?” she asked.

“He said that he is giving you and I twenty-four hours to come up with something or we would find ourselves jobhunting.” He replied.

“I should have taken your offer for the one month break, right?” Deborah asked.

“yes you should have.” Mr Timothy replied. He got up as he spoke. “let me leave you to think on the solution. I have to go and convince Mrs Adepoju that her daughter’s stories are not publish worthy. She thinks the girl is the next Adichie; go figure. ” He added and rolled his eyeballs.

Deborah smiled as the door closed behind Mr Timothy. Funny man. She turned to the window and stared at the fluttering curtain. Kunle would have known what to do. No! he is gone. You have to learn to do things by yourself now.

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SCENE FOUR: WARRI

Mabel stared at the crowd that gathered at the entrance to her mother’s flat. Her eyes wandered over the crowd, trying to pick her mother’s face from the familiar strangers gathered at the entrance to the flat. She could not find her. She started running but a hand caught her and brought her around. She turned to see two of her step sisters holding her and frowning at her.

“you cannot go there now, Mabel.” One of them said; the one named Mamus.

“Why? I want to go and meet my mother.” She replied.

“you cannot go there o, your mother is dead.” Mamus replied.

“that is a lie. Why will you say something like that. I know you people do not like me and my mother but that does not mean that you would wish her dead." she replied, getting angry and scared.

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“See this one. We are trying to prevent you from seeing a horrible sight, you are insulting us. Okay go on and have a look.” Oke replied, pushing her away.

Mabel took to her heels. She got to where the crowd was thickest and pushed through the throng. The bodies refused to give way and let her through until they turned and saw that it was she.

She finally got to the door and there, one of her elder brothers, Moses stopped her and drew her to the side.

“Brother Moses, where is my mother? I want to see my mother.” She said, searching inside Musa’s eyes for something, for anything.

Moses turned away from her eyes and looked at the door as it opened and men came out with the corpse. Mabel turned with her eyes still on Musa’s face, then she saw his lips thin in pain. She looked at the direction he was looking at and then she saw her mother’s body being removed from the house. Suddenly she could not see, hear or speak. Suddenly the world lost its form and darkness descended. Home is gone

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Question:

Do you think Deborah is in a good frame of mind to handle crisis in the office?

Do you think Mabel will still get to go to Lagos?

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Would you like to see episode two? Well stick around.

See Episode 1

Stay Steeming,

@warpedpoetic say so.