Prologue (Two)

I got a ping from my Series 5 wrist watch, signaling it was time. Getting back on my feet, I gazed longingly at the whole house for the final time and walked out in determined motion to my garage. Transiting from one car to another, I opted on my dad's old Ferrari F50. When I was ten years old, my dad got this car and customized it to his taste. This car symbolized the beginning of my love for automobiles. We would go on road trips together, he'd tutor me on car parts and their functions, we'd both go to drive-in cinemas to watch the latest blockbuster. My dad knew how much I loved it and gave me as a present in junior high school. Oh, the girls I was able to woo with this baby! It brought special memories and for these reasons, it was the perfect vehicle for me.

Driving out of the garage, I spotted Phillip waiting patiently for my exit, his expression turned to that of shock when he spotted me in a different car. I pulled over right next to him, muttering "Come over to Gare du Palais Train Station in the next two hours to pick up this car, understood?"

His startled expression ran further, "But sir, I can drive you to wherever you're—" I didn't let him continue as I revved the engine, overshadowing the end of his statement and zoomed off. Patting the steering wheel, I appreciated the speed of this car, reveling in old memories. As usual, I got admirable stares from pedestrians whenever I drove my cars around town. Their responses always made me have this sense of power; that I was the center of attraction and everyone wanted to be me, even for the most fleeting moments.

The not so flexible traffic, delayed me for thirty minutes but I got to the train station before 6pm. I parked my car at the parking lot, took a deep sigh, alighted and pressed the button on my car key to lock the car. I looked around, noting how busy the evening was at the train station. Everyone seemed to be going in and out like it was a mall or something. I had only been here once when my mum surprised me with train tickets for us to spend a mother-son weekend in Ottawa. I remember falling asleep on the windowsill but then mum moved my head and placed it on her bosom. My thoughts had been that they were the softest cushion I had ever laid on. I slept that day with a bright smile on my face. I was thirteen years old.

My reminisce about my special day was interrupted when I bumped into someone. An old lady holding a very large luggage. She apologized and walked away grumbling about how stressful her day had been. Moving forward, I found the departure board and perused it to find the latest departures. The one going to Ottawa read 6:20pm. I checked my watch just to be sure I could still make it, I noted I had twelve more minutes so I scurried off in search of the railway tracks where the train would be waiting. Fortunately, I found it on the tracks, doors open wide to convey passengers who trooped into it. Heaving a sigh, I marched way forward, about fifty feet away from the train and waited. To seem more casual so I could quell any arousing suspicions from anyone around, I bought a newspaper from the vendor who looked more homeless than an actual vendor and fumbled with the pages. A group of teenagers walked by, all talking rather loudly and smoking cigarettes. As they walked by me, the smell of tobacco infiltrated my lungs and had me coughing repeatedly. I struggled to find balance while taking deep breaths. Passers-by looked back at me wondering if I was all right and needed help but I shook my head confirming I was fine.

Just then, my phone beeped, highlighting a message. I took it out of the inner breast pocket of my blazer jacket and scanned through it. It was an iPhone 11pro max gifted directly to me from the iPhone company headquarters in America on my birthday three months ago. Going through my emails, I found the message sent by Alexa and clicked on it hurriedly. My cough had miraculously subsided so I was able to concentrate on the content of the message. It contained my account details from all my bank accounts. The total sum read fifty billion dollars. Woohoo! I had really outdone it! I had made my parents proud, had I not? I had given them more reasons to be proud of me. So there, I would finally hug them and if they asked, I'll tell them of the billions I had worked extremely hard for and acquired.

Just then, the last call for passengers was made and many more people boarded the train in a hurry. I whispered to myself that it was time to get ready.

You see, when I said I had planned out today, I truly meant it. Also, I meant it more when I said it was my last day on earth and I would finally join my parents. Losing my life to cancer was at the bottom of my bucket list, rather I had decided to take my life before cancer could. Therefore, I had established the fact that once the train began to move from fifty feet away and it got to where I stood, I would jump into the tracks so it would grind me to pieces. Horrific, I know! But I felt that was more heroic than dying of cancer. I could imagine the tabloids and magazines "Nigerian-Canadian billionaire takes his own life!". That sure as hell sounded better than "Nigerian-Canadian billionaire dies of cancer which he had been battling for years!" the latter sounded weak and feeble for a man of my caliber, however, the former sounded more legendary. I couldn't let a disease take from me what I could take by myself.

Having that final thought in mind, I watched as the doors of the train shut and the engines roared. The deafening sound was like Rock and Roll to my ears. This was my moment! This was my time! Dumping the newspaper I held, I marched forward to the tips of the pedestrian side walk, super ready to jump as the train approached.

And then...

Music!

I didn't know so much about music or musical instruments but one thing I would never mistake was the melodies emanating from that small four-stringed guitar I adored. Whoever strung it, did that with so much love and sadness from their heart. The harmony it harnessed moved my feet and I found myself turning around, 180 degrees, my eyes landing on the source.

Sitting right on the metallic chairs provided by the station was a young lady who appeared to be in her 30s. She was definitely an African but sang the sweetest song, in fluent French language. Being a native of Quebec and having French as our official language, I spoke and understood it far better than any other language, so I listened—though the song was unfamiliar—as she sang and played my favorite musical instrument in my entire life, courtesy of my mother.

The ukulele.

When she smiled at nothing in particular, my heart stopped, my body froze and I think the earth did too. All I could see was my mother playing to me and smiling at me while her fingers strummed the ukulele with ease. The breeze blew her golden tresses as she sat on a carpet of fresh green grass as she worked out a high pitch with such ease, you'd think she was an angel. She was an angel to me! My guardian angel, my brightest star!

Soon I was crying uncontrollably and singing with her, though my voice was muffled by my sobs and the impact of seeing my mother singing to me. When she was done singing, she smiled again and said,

"Je t'aime mon guerrier, continue de te battre. Je suis avec toi!"

And just like that, everything ended as though I was snapped out of a trance. I looked behind me, only to see that the train had long gone, it's choo-choo sound could barely be heard. Unwilling to be caught bawling, I grabbed my handkerchief from the left side pocket of my pants and wiped the tears left on my face. Just to confirm that at least one part of this was true, I turned again but didn't find the young lady. Checking sideways, I was relieved to see her running away, the police on her heels, chasing after her. Strange.

Another real experience was the fact that I could feel my heart beat a different kind of rhythm. No, not love, silly. I felt alive! My mother's words rang in my heart, mind and brain, giving me the boost I never thought I needed.

"I love you my warrior, please keep on fighting. I am with you!" were her exact words in English. I guess she didn't want me to come join them yet. She wanted me to stay alive. She had distracted me long enough for the train to pass by without me going through with my mission. The smile on her face urged me to fight. Sniffling one last time, I decided to leave, certain that I was making the right decision.

I was choosing to stay alive rather than suicide even though my life was still hanging on by a thread. And the best feeling was she said she was with me. That sure gave me the hope and strength to carry on.

My phone blared, frightened the crap out of me. It was my uncle, Gerald. I picked up immediately to hear what he had to say. "Phillip said you left in a hurry and told him to come pick up your car in a couple hours. Are you traveling somewhere?" I shook my head though he couldn't see me.

"No, change of plans. Tell Phillip to stay back. I'm coming home!"

Hanging up, I left the train station feeling lighter and less worried than I came in. I had survived today, I just had to be strong and stay alive for tomorrow!