WRECKED
/ WRECKED 36 35
"Afsat—" Anaya began.
"Sshhh…It seems the good Lord has solved our problems for us," Afsat interrupted. "She's dead. Good riddance. Sit down, Anaya. You look faint."
"Dead! How terrible. What a terrible thing."
"What's terrible about it?" Afsat asked. "You've never been a hypocrite, don't be one now. The death is a godsend. A way out for all of us."
Anaya looked at her hands. They twisted in and out, turning her wedding ring repeatedly. Then she looked up at Afsat. "It was a suicide, right?"
"My dear Anaya," Afsat answered, and it seemed she was mocking her. "What else could it be?"
****
It was like a stage play again, Anaya thought. Act three, scene three. The final scene of the last act. They were all crowded in the sitting room. Her husband; cold and in command giving them the details. Afsat sitting regally, and Mustapha looking as if the world has blown up in his face.
"There's been a family tragedy. Kuku has been found dead – as you know."
He might be addressing a board of directors, Anaya thought. Quite a pretender, my husband. He had a heart once, human feelings. I've killed them. That's the truth.
"The doctor has examined her. He thinks it's an overdose. Did she take sleeping pills, Mustapha?" He looked disdainfully at his brother. Mustapha nodded, vacant-eyed and silent.
"Most unfortunate, I must say…"
When is he going to stop? Anaya wondered. When is he going to stop pouring out cynical platitudes? Nobody believed him. We all know the truth. She is dead and some of us are glad. Mustapha—she didn't know. He seemed stunned. He had gone backwards into himself and turned away. He didn't want comfort.
Afsat startled them as she stood up, interrupting Jubril's speech. Jubril looked angry but she ignored him. She made her voice strong.
"I've something to say," she said. "I agree we've got a tragedy and maybe a scandal on our hands. Kuku is dead and nothing can alter that. Personally,"—and she looked directly at Jubril—"I'm not sorry. I don't have to explain why, because you all know. If you don't have anything more important to say, permit me to return to my room. I ran out during my prayer." She walked out and left them all looking after her. After a moment, Mustapha left.
Anaya glanced at Jubril. He looked stricken. His tough façade was finally crumbling down. Reality was beginning to set in, no doubt, she thought bitterly. Definitely not the expected aftermath of a night of making love.
He didn't know she knew. When he had crept back into their bed, she had pretended to be asleep. He was too exhausted, too sated, to make sure. She had lain awake and listened to him snore.
His insatiable bitch was dead. Anaya looked out the window; she didn't see the lovely lawns. The image of Kuku, gently scoring his neck with her long, painted nails, mocked and tormented her. She's dead but I'll never be able to forget it. I thought I would when it was over, but I'm not sure now. Perhaps she'll always be between us. Even if he forgets her, I'm the one who'll be haunted by what happened. When he touches me, I'll think of him doing the same to her.
And because she is dead, I'll never be sure he wouldn't have left me for her in the end.
Jubril sat down heavily. He couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. He could see her, feel her close to him; imagination taunted him with the strong individual scent she wore, Green Tea. The room was full of that sweet persuasive smell. "I don't believe it," he said. He looked at Anaya. "I'm surprised you are not shaken."
"About her? Why should I be? I never liked her. She was just a whore. Mustapha is better off without her. We are all better off."
"You're glad!" he said. "I can see you are."
She turned to him. There was an odd smile on her lips for a moment. "I'm not sorry," she said.
"I don't believe she killed herself…"
"Oh, please, Jubril, I don't care what you believe. The doctor said she took an overdose and I agree."
"No, you don't. None of you believes that nonsense. I saw it last night, the way you all treated her. That rotten pisshead of a brother wouldn't even speak to her. You all wanted her out."
Anaya said quietly, "And now she is."
"This won't be covered up. I know the truth and so do you. I will tell the police."
For a moment, Anaya stared at him. He saw dark hatred in her eyes. "Then tell," she said maliciously. "I'm sure you have the relevant evidence to support your claim. I am leaving for Lake Alau tomorrow morning. Keep me posted on burial arrangements."
Then, she got up and left him, slamming the door shut. There was nothing he could do. Nothing that didn't involve telling the truth about their last night together; wrecking his marriage, ruining his career, disgracing his family. Nothing. He would be a part of this for as long as he lived.
****
A day after Ramadan festival, Abdul awoke with a crusty hangover and a dark Hauwa look-alike lying in bed beside him. In the cruel light of day, the girl no more resembled Hauwa.
He woke the girl up, got rid of her, sat in his motel bed and brooded about what he was doing. He was following and tracking a woman who was already his, the devious Jezebel who'd thought she'd killed him. Oh yes! She had left him for dead and gone on her merry way.
Well, not so fast, because now the time had come to do something about reclaiming his bride. Hauwa was riding with the high and mighty, had even gone on a trip to celebrate Ramadan, and now it was her turn to experience a sharp jolt of reality. He had overhead the girls say they would return seven days after Ramadan. Today! And what better way to do that than in front of her friends and famous benefactor?
Tonight would be the night for retribution.
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He spent most of the afternoon drinking with a rowdy bunch of men who hung out at a bar near his motel. They were a wild group of men—although he could drink most of them under the table and still have room for more.
Later in the day, he staked out his usual discreet spot near Lake Alau, biding his time until they returned. He reached down to the door of the passenger seat and picked up a bottle of Gulder he had started on earlier. Nothing like getting back into action to cure a hangover.
They arrived a few minutes past six in an airport taxi. Abdul watched as the gateman left the gate open and ran after the car, catching up as it came to a halt at the front doors and automatically opened its booth. Four women alighted from the vehicle. One headed straight through the front doors, he saw the tall girl he had spoken to on the street a week ago, the pregnant girl with the perpetual sad face and his Hauwa. He watched as they unloaded the bags from the booth while the gateman carried them inside.
After taking a few swigs, he left his car and quickly made his way by foot up the long winding driveway. He was feeling better already, better and ready for action.
The big problem was, he had no clear plan of what he was about to do, but whatever he decided, he knew for sure that he was not leaving without his wife. He'd go in and hide among the clump of trees, before the gateman returned and locked the gates, and think about what to do.
Hauwa was his, and if he couldn't have her–then sure as the world was round–nobody else would.
****
Anaya was still livid on the events that had taken place in Abuja. She walked inside, slammed the door behind her with a loud thwack, the sound of wood slapping wood.
She made her way to the sitting room, switched on the television, curled herself on the couch and began surfing for what to watch. She finally settled for Half of a Yellow Sun. It was a movie about two ladies, Olanna and Kainene, and the different choices that shaped their lives. Nigerian films didn't appeal to Anaya. She didn't like the name 'NollyWood' quite frankly. It reminded her of a mimicry. Hollywood was the home of the American Film Industry. She knew it was actually a location in Los Angeles. She had found nowhere in Lagos, Abuja or Nigeria called NollyWood. She wondered why the lm industry in Finland wasn't called FinWood or BritishWood referring to the films from Britain. She shook her head and tried to concentrate on the movie. It was good. Not the usual, "Patience Ozokwor is a wicked stepmother/ Mother-in-law" or "Rich parents do not want their child to marry a poor lover" kind of story. Anaya smiled to herself as she remembered Master Stroke. It was really a masterstroke of imbecility, a 'genius' of improvisation. It felt like each actor said their lines and acted out the plot as it came to them in front of the camera. Even the home of one of the major characters sounded empty and uninhabited. She was about to drift off for a little desperately needed shut-eye when the girls walked in.
"You want me to paint your toenails?" Eni had arrived with a cosmetics bag and Laraba held a tray filled with fruits and glasses of water. Anaya looked down at her feet and shrugged in agreement. "You can. Eni. If it makes you feel better. Thank you, Laraba. I'm really starving."
"You don't look to me like your starving, ma, although you do look thinner," Laraba said.
"I told her this morning," Eni chipped in. "But she didn't believe me."
Eni gestured to Anaya to sit up, then she wadded up cotton balls and stuck them between her mistress' toes. She began to moan in disgust about Anaya's corns and calluses, while she buffed them away. Next, she began a lecture on cuticles while she clipped, and finally she applied a base coat followed by two layers of tomato red polish.
"They are looking much better," Eni twisted the top of the nail polish back in place and offered Anaya the tray with fruits. Anaya picked a mango and chomped through its yellow skin. The juice escaped and ran down her chin, and she lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing her stomach, and wiped her face.
"This is good." She looked around at the girls. "Thank you. I know I haven't been myself lately. I just hate dealing with…you know?"
Hauwa reached over, patted her arm and continued. "Ma, the death of Madam Kuku is a tragedy, no doubt about that, but you will be fine."
The girls nodded in agreement.
"I wish it was that simple. You know she slept with my husband?"
"Ya Allah na. Oh my God!" Hauwa exclaimed.
"Then you should be relieved that she is dead, ma," Eni remarked.
"I know," Anaya said. "I just can't stand to think that he would have left me for Kuku, if she hadn't died."
"Never mind that, ma," Eni said. "My advice is worry about the living. The dead had their chance."
"Wayoooo, that's cold." Hauwa said.
"No, it's not. I care about my madam, and then you two. That's all."
At this point, Anaya's face became wet with tears. Suddenly, Laraba was next to her, wiping Anaya's face with her hands.
"It's okay, Auntie Anaya. Don't cry." She put Anaya's head on her shoulder, and looped her arm around her.
"Don't blame yourself, ma. It's not your fault." Eni said.
"That's not true. I was unprepared for the whole business of marriage. The truth is that I never believed anyone could ever love any woman or me after the way my father treated my mum. Plain and simple. And when Jubril betrayed me, as I always suspected he would—because in my mind that's what men did—my anger outweighed my disappointment. I didn't know what love really was! How could I? My father was an abusive, unfaithful son of a bitch of a husband and a sadistic bastard from hell. How are you supposed to learn about healthy love relationships from that?"
"Good point," Hauwa said knowingly.
"Our marriage didn't have much emotional investment. Oh sure, my pride was annihilated when I found out what he was up to with Kuku," Anaya said. "But hurt pride is not the same thing as a broken heart. If you never invest that much of your heart in your marriage, you don't lose much when it comes to its inevitable end."
"Are you saying your marriage to Oga Jubril will end?"
"No, Hauwa. I'm saying that I've only just realised what a fool I've been all my life. If you can't really love somebody, you're only half alive. If you're only half invested, you can't lose too much. It's the dishonest method of dealing with fear."
"What fear?"
"Of being hurt. All I'm saying, girls, is don't cheat yourself like I cheated myself. And I cheated Jubril."
"Okay. Lecture over. Madam, you need to get up and wash your face," Eni said.
"Hey! Who is the boss around here?" Anaya swatted Eni's hand as all the girls broke into laughter. "Hauwa, you have to retouch your hair; it's looking due. Laraba, I didn't see you take your folic acid and vitamin C. Remember we want a healthy baby. Eni, can we have some of the Sallah meat my in-law packed for us? And something to drink?"
Eni got up. "Stay put," she said, taking charge. "I'll be back."
As she hurried to the kitchen, she thought about how her life had changed since she met Anaya. There was something about her that struck a chord of protection.
Pushing open the swing doors to the kitchen, she came face to face with a man holding a gun. Oh my God, Eni thought.
"You? What are—"
"Hello, Yarinya," said the man with a gun, "Don't get alarmed. This is a social visit."
"Take it easy," Eni said, speaking slower than usual. "You can take whatever you want and go."
"It's not material possession I'm after," the man said, breathing heavy alcohol fumes in Eni's direction. "Although I could use a few nairas."
"What is it, then?"
"I came for my wife."
"Your wife?" Eni said, her mind racing, confused.
"That's right. My stupid evil wife."
Eni took a deep breath. This week was getting weirder by the minute.
The burglar jerked his gun at Eni. "Let's take a trip and join your friends," he ordered.
Eni blinked rapidly and tugged at her blouse. "Certainly," she said. "At your service."
****
As Anaya chatted and munched on a banana, Hauwa got up and walked towards the sitting room door to call for Eni and there was a sudden commotion. The intruder shoved Eni roughly through the door, almost knocking Hauwa down. Right behind her was a man with a gun.
Hauwa recovered her balance and then she froze.
The man with the gun was Abdul. The husband she had thought she had escaped from months ago.
Abdul had them all lined up in a row, sitting on the floor against the dining room wall. The gun in his hands made him feel all-powerful – especially as none of them knew who he was yet, and Hauwa hadn't opened her mouth.
The foolish woman knew exactly why he was here. But her benefactor didn't. She was in for a big surprise. Abdul couldn't wait to see her face when the truth came out.
Before he had a chance to say anything, Hauwa spoke up, infuriating him. "I have to apologize to everyone," she said in a strained voice. "This man is my…" she could barely get the words out— "husband."
Eni gripped her hand tightly. "Tell me you didn't just say that," she muttered. "Tell me you're lying."
"What?" yelled Anaya, outraged. "Your husband! This man? What—"
"Oh, shut up!" growled Abdul.
"Don't you dare tell me to shut up, you fool," Anaya said in a clipped tone.
"Abdul," Hauwa said, keeping her voice low and even, "you don't want to do this. Put the gun down, let everyone go, and you and I will talk."
"Haaaaaaa!" Abdul yelled, continuing to brandish the gun around. "She wants to talk. Can you believe it? This girl left me eight months ago. Yes, you heard me!" he shouted, focusing his attention on Anaya. "Left me and ran off. I was in the hospital for months, but she didn't care. I almost died."
"I am not interested in your near touch with death. What do you want?" Anaya asked, remaining calm, even though the shock of finding out that the man with the gun was Hauwa's husband was quite a revelation.
"I want her," Abdul said, gesturing toward Hauwa with his gun. "I want my wife. Now!"
Hauwa rose to her feet. "Okay, okay, I'm coming," she said. She recognized the frame of mind Abdul was in only too well. Drunk and belligerent, violent and out of control. She'd seen him do this so many times, but never with a gun in his hands.
She could not take her eyes off Abdul. She had kept her marriage a dirty secret, and now Abdul was here because of her, threatening everyone. It wasn't right. She had left this man, this man who had beaten and abused her. She had left with a broken arm and a battered face and she had been scared out of her mind.
But things were different now, she wasn't scared anymore. Oh no, she had grown up, discovered new strengths within herself, and now she possessed an inner confidence she had never known she'd had. If only she could persuade him to leave with her, then maybe no one would get hurt.
"Abdul," she said, her voice sharp and clear. "Let's go. Leave these people alone, they've done nothing to you."
"Shut up, Hauwa," Abdul said, rocking back and forth on the heels of his police-issue boots. "Shut up!"
He stood looking down at Hauwa, trying to decide on his next move. Hauwa turned to Anaya, waves of sadness washed over her, "I'm sorry Auntie Anaya. He was someone I wanted to keep in the past. And for your information, I didn't try to kill him."
"That was your first mistake, my darling."
Anaya glanced over at Laraba. She was sitting ramrod straight, an expression of cold fury beginning to appear of her face. Anaya saw that the girl was not afraid, in that moment, she was very proud of her.
Suddenly, a phone rang and everyone jumped. In that instant, Laraba picked up a glass of water and aimed it at Abdul's head with all her might, as the parlour doors burst open and Jubril stormed in, quickly scanned the room and hurled himself at Abdul.
Abdul screamed as the glass smashed on his head and before he could react to Jubril's presence, he was locked in a brawl. He could not believe what was happening. They struggled for a few seconds, then Abdul made an inhuman sound at the back of his throat and hit Jubril's face with the butt of his gun. It drew blood.
Jubril didn't feel the agony, he just felt the fury of another man invading his home, and his fury gave him strength. With his right hand, he grabbed the wrist of Abdul's gun hand and bent it back…slowly…slowly…forcing it…
Hauwa had a horrible feeling that something bad was about to happen. Abdul was panicked; she could see it in his face. She attempted to rise, but Anaya prevented her from doing so. "Stay still," she muttered, gripping her hand.
For a brief moment, Jubril and Abdul's eyes fused. Black on black. Suddenly, the gun went off, and there was river of blood and deathly silence.
Everyone watched as Abdul went limp.
It was all over in seconds.
****
The girls were huddled on the sofa, comforting the weeping Hauwa. Anaya was certain that it wasn't tears of sadness, more of relief. At the other end of the room, the commissioner of police ended his discussion with Jubril. He must have said something funny, as Jubril laughed and said "I'll see you in the club when I return. Thanks for your help."
"Anytime, my friend. Anytime." He nodded to Anaya as he took his leave.
"Thank you," Anaya said to Jubril, walking up to him as the police carried Abdul's corpse away. Jubril stared at her and nodded. He had arrived Borno on another flight to pick up some of his belongings before heading back to Abuja. As he approached the door of the house, he'd heard voices and quietly listened. It was a stroke of luck that the glass was smashing the intruder's head as he opened the door.
"Who was he?"
"Hauwa's husband."
Jubril shook his head and turned away.
"Oh, she was married. Great!"
Ignoring his sarcasm, she asked, hopefully, "Why did you come back?"
"Needed to pick up my international passport. I have a meeting in Cape town."
"When will you be back?"
He looked back at her, with something close to hate. "In time for Kuku's burial," he said coldly, as he turned and walked away.
Chapter end
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