Dec 1, 1998 V

Continued from Dec 1, 1998 IV

                                                                                   Wat do u mean? I stare at the words trying to decipher its meaning. Somehow the words do not register.

Wat do u mean wat do I mean? My fingers move fast, connecting with the buttons. Are you serious? Chinedu is dead. My thumb hovers over the send button. Logic kicks in. Whether I like it or not, I have to be extra careful with records. Anything that might either indict me or someone close to me has to be eliminated. I press the back button until an empty screen shows. It is better if I talk to Tomi face to face.

To call now or to call later? I ponder on the idea, weighing the odds. I might get her voicemail and I hate voicemails. My voice might crack as I can still taste fear on my taste buds -- sweaty armpits and palms. I heave and reach for my bag beneath my legs. I find a piece of gum. I put it in my mouth, chewing rapidly, trying to fight the bile I feel rising. I suck my tongue in and blow a bubble, which I pop. Why? I have no idea.

I picture my mum’s face scrunched together as she projects her thoughts about a lady popping gum. I smile. I turn, my seat belt not helping at all. I complete the task by unlocking my seat belt.

She is staring out of the window. She seems engrossed in the passing scenery. I keep looking, hoping to catch her eye. I see her rubbing her ring finger with her thumb. I wonder if I should pop my gum one more time, this time a bit louder. To snap her out of her reverie, to get her all riled up, to get a taste of her frustrations. She needs to lash out soon or she would explode later. As I consider popping the gum again, I decide against it. It would not hurt to grant her a moment reprieve before she faces the stares and gossips. I do not fool myself into believing that word has not gotten out about my arrest.

I look at my father. He rests his head on the headrest, his eyes closed. I close mine and squeeze them. Whatever I had hoped to achieve, the magic fails this time. I open my eyes. I have a lot to think of. I have to fill some loopholes. And to do that, I need to think of them.

Instead of calling Tomi, I send: we nid 2 talk. To which, she replies 5pm 2moro, same place.

It’s urgent.

Call me!

I can’t. It has to be face to face.

Kinda busy @ d moment. Av a couple of meetns til 9.

I can do afta 9. We nid 2 talk.

Okay, 9:30.

I have three hours and thirty minutes till the meeting. And since I had been holed up at the station for seven hours, I know what I would be doing with the time I have left. I would probably get home by 7: 30, dip myself for 30 minutes as I do need to think without anyone breathing around me and head out after. I need to find out what happened before I sleep.

I descend the stairs. The TV is on, tuned to CNN. My parents seem not to be interested in local news. It does not take a genius to figure out why. I walk into the sitting room to tell them that I would be back in a few. My mum sights me first. She turns and sets her full attention on me.

“You are pretty dressed up. Are you going out?” she says.

“I need to see a friend,” I say.

“And tonight is the night?”

“Ma, I am not going to allow some annoying men in uniform ruffle me up. I had made plans and I do intend to keep them. Besides, it is better to face the running mouths head on. Isn’t that what you taught me?”

“Is this a date?”

“Date? Ha! I wish my luck has gotten better. Alas, not. It is a girl I just met.”

“And she can’t come here?”

“Are you trying to limit my interactions with the world?” I arch my right eyebrow.

“You two stop bickering. Chioma, your mum wants you to take things easy considering the circumstances. And Margie, she is not a kid.” My dad grabs the remote and turns down the volume of the TV as he speaks. “When are you getting back?”

“I would be in and out in 15 minutes. How many hours I use to get there and back, I can’t say. Lagos traffic is quite unpredictable.”

“Are you driving or is Usman taking you.”

“I can drive myself. I don’t need a driver taking me everywhere. I would be back as soon as I can. Ma, stop fretting, everything will be fine.” I move over and peck my mum. “I will be right back, I promise.”

I walk into the establishment, remembering the last time I was here. This time, I do not need any help navigating my way to Tomi. This time, I have a question and not a request. She is cradling a glass of some clear liquid. Since the glass is quite tall and judging from how the drink fizzles, I guess it is club soda. I sit, putting my bag on the floor.

“What did you do?” I say.

“Nothing, been working all day,” Tomi says.

“Chinedu is dead,” I say.

“When did you find out?” she says.

“This morning when the police showed up at my door.”

“Really, how do you feel? Hold on, wait, you think I had something to do with his death?” she says. Wrinkles appear on her brow as she peers over her glass at me. She squints her eyes, fixing her attention on me.

“I don’t know what to think. I just needed to find out.”

“I hardly knew the guy. I never saw his picture, can’t place him in a crowd and yet you think me guilty. Woman, what do you take me for?” She says this with calmness, no inflection or stress in her voice.

I realize my error. In my confusion, I made a gross assumption. I lick my lips wondering how I can retrace my steps, how I can salvage the situation, how I can make her see my confused state.

“I am sorry. I guess I overlooked that.”

“Why did the police break the news to you?” she says.

“What? Oh, they didn’t come to break the news. They arrested me for his murder,” I say.

“For wetin? Did you kill him ni? Did you get into a fight with him recently?”

“I haven’t seen him in a couple of months, so I couldn’t have gotten into any kind of altercation with him. They saw a message I had sent to him a while back. I am surprised he still had it. I deleted it a while ago.”

“And it was a threat?” Tomi says.

“Yes, I was pissed, bitter and I only had one weapon – words. I embraced it and made good use of it”

Tomi nods. She uses her index finger to scratch her jawline and moved it to the right check, rubbing a dimple there. She looks around and turns.

“Do you need a drink?”

“No, I am driving. Honestly, I have no idea what to think. I keep trying to… but I can’t. And that scares me.”

“Trying to what? What is really on your mind? What demons are you trying to exorcise?”

“I am scared. I can’t remember; I wonder if I did kill him.”

“Hold on! Slow down! What are you talking about? And talk slowly.”

“The police say he has been dead for two days. I can’t remember the night of that day. I keep trying to but can’t. I have no idea what happened. Do you think that I did kill him?”

“I have no idea what you did or did not do” she gesticulates as she speaks in a rapid manner. “Let’s review the day, tell me everything you can remember.”

“I don’t know. All I remember is taking the pills Dr. Linda prescribed. I was brainstorming on revenge ideas. I was blank and frustrated, so I took them. I laid my head and I woke up the next day.”

“And you think you might have killed him?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember the day well.”

“Well, you are fine. I doubt that you killed him,” Tomi says with conviction.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because you took a cab to my place, we hung out and I drove you back home. You didn’t get to my place with bloodstains and I didn’t drop you at home with any. Although, I think you did burst a pimple which drew blood. Apart from that, you were fine.”

I heave a sigh of relief. It seems that even though I can not remember the day, I have not killed anyone. I pick my bag. I am done here.

“In that case, I need to go. I told my folks that I would be back soon.”

“Is that all you wanted to ask? Why didn’t you call me? You didn’t need to drive all the way to see me.”

“Maybe I have watched too many detective series. I did not want to leave any trail leading to you.”

“Well you did text me earlier and Nigerian telephone companies do not record phone conversations.”

“If you say so, I gotta run. See you later.”

“Chioma hold on. Who is your lawyer?”

“Sandra Ehikhon, why?”

“Just wondering, and you are in good hands.”

“I know. Take care.”

I walk out of the establishment feeling better than I came in. I walk to my car. As I step out, the harsh thrust of the wind on my face makes me lose focus. I close my eyes tightly and slowly open them. I walk to my car. 

Bitch!

Men and their derogatory words! Feeling sorry for its recipient, I keep walking.

I am talking to you. I know you can hear me bitch.

I want to turn back, and see who is talking and who he is talking to. But since it is none of my business anyways, I continue on my path to the car.

“Hey Chioma, I am talking to you.”

I stop and turn slowly. Now, I am annoyed. And since I cannot recognize the voice, I am pissed even more. I hate when people I do not know call my name. Hell no! Nobody is going to call me a female dog and get away with. I freaking do not care who the person is.
            I see a guy detaching himself from his friends and walking towards me. I feel around in my bag for my pepper spray. Satisfied that it is still where I keep it, I stay still, waiting for the guy. As he approaches closer, I identify him. He is one of Chinedu’s friends. I wait. He draws closer, with a gait in his step. I smile, still staying still.

“Are you satisfied now? You killed him, bitch,”

With all the calmness I can draw from my innermost being, I say “First of all, I am not a bitch. The last time I checked I haven’t slept with you so you have no right to call me such. You are not man enough for me. And two, Chinedu got what was coming to him. So, scurry back to your friends and wash your mouth with hyssop.”

“Are you stupid? Who is talking to you that you are talking back? I would wound you. Are you crazy? Who and who do you think you are talking to,” he says.

I remember that he is a cultist. What fraternity, I have no idea. The thought just drops in my mind. But I am not one to back down.

“Are you done rambling?” I say. I press the unlock button on my remote. I turn to open the door and he grabs my hand, attempting to yank me to him. I weigh my spray and turn it perfectly. As he looks me straight in the eye, I unleash the pepper into his eyes. He tilts and rubs his eyes.

“Bitch, imma kill you,” he says.

I figure he has not learned from his mistake. I connect my heels to his groin. He doubles down groaning in pain. I lean close to him.

“Five of you aren’t enough to make me scared. Do not cross me again. If you do, you would join your friend,” I say.

I look towards his friends. They are laughing. I get into my car and drive off. Oloshi!

I look at Sandra’s certifications and call to bar, displayed proudly. Sandra Ehikhon has been called to the Nigerian bar on 21/10/1990.

Sandra comes in.

“Sorry I kept you waiting. I had to attend a webinar,” she says as she walks to her table. She drops a white manila file on it and takes her seat. She pulls her navy upholstered swivel chair closer, raps her knuckles on the table, and says “Okay, let’s get this ball rolling. So, what do you need to tell me?”

“I don’t know what you want to know. Ask and I will answer,” I say.

“I want to know everything, don’t leave anything out,” she says.

I look away and stare through the glass window to the world outside. I wonder where I should start from, what I should tell.

“Ask me and I will tell. I have no idea where to start from,” I say.

“Why not start from the beginning. How did you know Chinedu?”

“I met him at a club party. One of the guys in my class was a member of a club in school and they usually throw parties and all. He kept inviting me and I never went for any. That day, it was a few day to exams, I was itching to dance and my girlfriends and I needed a girls' night out. We all decided to go. We called Hakeem. He asked us if we were driving or if he should pick us up. We told him to pick us up.”

“Chioma, how did you meet him? I do not need all those back stories. Tell me the moment you meet him and what happened afterwards,” Sandra says. Her words lull me into the past.

I had sat down for a few. I had danced with Yvonne. We had cut off a couple of guys who had tried to break us up. We wanted to dance the night away and grinding against a guy’s groin was not what we had in mind. So we took a break. I sat, sniffing and trying to expunge the cigarette smoke in the air, and failing miserably at it. The cigarette smoke clung deeply to the air I took in. I had lifted my glass of Rosé and taken a gulp, I saw Hakeem walking towards us. He sat down and asked why we were rebuffing the guys. I smiled and told him I needed some fresh air. He shook his head and walked me out. He left me at the door though. I stood at the balcony upstairs breathing in fresh air.

“Hi,” I turned towards the voice and smiled. He came out from the room. He smiled back and said “Do you mind if I hang out here?”

“Sure, as long as you are not out here to smoke.”

“Do you have anything against smoking?”

“Not particularly, my nose just gets clogged when there is too much smoke in the room.”

“I see, my name is Chinedu and I haven’t seen your face around school. Are you a freshman?”

I chuckled and said “Nope, I am in my third year. I just don’t go to clubs or party a lot.”

“I see. So what is your name?”

“Chioma,” I say.

“So Chioma, why you no gree make guys dance with una. You just dey spoil show for us. I don count close to four guys wey both you and your friend just cut sha,” he says.

“Well we came here to dance –”

“Alone, that's weird”

“No, we just like dancing together first, sort of like a warm up. Then we dance with guys. Besides the only dance most guys know how to dance is grinding. Not interested, thank you.”

“Well, at least you are better than girls who come to club just to sit, drink and hang around big boys.”

“If you say so.” I look downstairs and see the bouncers hanging around. Some people were hanging around the vicinity, smoking, drinking and chatting. I looked at Chinedu, seeing his innocent face, as it seemed at that time, realizing that it was easy to talk to him. I had smiled at the thought.

“He asked me to dance. We went back inside and danced. He was a thorough gentleman. He stood afar as the crowd could allow and danced! He drove me and the girls back to our place. He got out, sat on the boot of his car, talked to me again and asked for my number. A week later he called.” I stop, rubbing my eyes. The throbbing ache in my eyes has started. I know that it is only just going to be a couple of minutes before it becomes a full blown headache. I touch my hair and scratch the part that is itching also. I stop. 

“Go on, what happened after.”

“He raped me.”

“And?--”

“And I swore to kill him in a furious rage. Maybe I meant it, maybe I didn’t. I was pissed and I needed to deal with things,” I say.

“Do you think you deal with things calmly or do you react violently?”

“How am I supposed to know the answer to that?”

“So what else happened?” she says.

“I realized his death was worth nothing to me, agreed to therapy and I’m finally reaching out.” I shrug.

“Do you feel like the therapy worked?”

“Maybe, I guess so.”

“Do you think your therapist thinks so?”

“You would have to ask her.”

“What else happened?”

“Nothing, I haven’t seen Chinedu since I saw him in school a few days after the incident. I felt so embarrassed, guilty and angry that I walked away. I haven’t seen him since.”

“I feel like there is something that you are not telling me that I need to know.”

“I can’t remember the night Chinedu died. I keep trying and I keep coming up blank. A friend, however, swears that I was with her all through and that she dropped me home.”

“Is she willing to testify if it ever comes to that?”

“We have a weird relationship. I just met her. I would rather it not come to that.”

The intercom on her table blinks red. Her next appointment is here and it is an important client. I smile and look at her.

“That’s it, I swear. If I remember any detail that would help you, I would call you immediately. But right now, I am a bit useless,” I say.

She smiles and says “That is a lie; you Chioma Doyles can never be useless.”

I stand up and pick my things. At the door, I turn. I need to find out.

“So, what do you think?”

“I think you told me the truth thus far. I am honestly caught between wishing the police find the killer and praying he or she gets away scot free,” Sandra says.

I smile. “I would like to know who did it and thank the person.” I turn the knob and look back. “And Sandra, thank you.”

She nods.


Continued http://olatodera.blogspot.com/2012/01/dec-1-1998-vi.html