Chapter 34

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It was just sitting there when she had seen it, idly lying on the floor at the corner of the living room and she thoroughly wished that she had left it as it was, unbothered, to keep sitting there and to continue staring at whomever came to it. But, she had picked it up, wondering just how on earth it had gotten there. Curiosity had led her to open it right where she was standing. She had brought out the few sheets of papers in it and thought it could belong to Melody. It might be one of her clients numerous paper works with descriptions of their interior decorations or their certain preferences. But, when a photo had fallen out and she had bent sideways to pick it up, shock made her scream abruptly, momentarily frightened. She jerked backwards, away from it, causing the papers in her hand to spill, scattering on the floor below. She stared at the photo which stared back at her with the same intensity that she was doing it. It was a photo of her from when she was eighteen. She was in her father's garden beside the hibiscus bush, laughing happily. Her face was bare, void of any kind of makeup, showing all the markings on it. She was wearing an off shoulder midriff and a low waist black jean, flaunting off her scars to her sisters. She wasn't the only one with them; her sisters had some from one time or the other. But, it was Chisimbili that had bared hers first and told them all to do same, telling them to feel free in the picnic that she had planned in their father's garden. She said she had done it to spite their father. She wanted him to see that they were all happy despite what he had done to them. She remembered that Lotenne had taken this particular picture. And oh yes, she had been extremely happy in that moment, as free as Chisimbili had told her she would be, not hiding away or covering up anything, bare to the soul.

She took up the papers and began to read the words. It was her biography. It stated her birth date, her mother's origin, including information she never knew. Then, she stumbled upon another paper, not part of the biography, hand written. It was a letter addressed to her. Her hands trembled as she read it. It said:

"This is to the bitch who thinks she can get what I want, go take a look at yourself in the mirror first and then go to hell second! You are spoiled goods, damaged critically half eye. No one will ever want you, you hear? They all left you, all of them. What makes you think that Clement would want you? You amuse me. If you think you can have him, get prepared and then come out in all the glory of your distorted, disfigured and damaged extremity. Forget it; do not even attempt it for you will be so disappointed that you might try to commit suicide. In fact, give up on everything love and men because no one would want you, you and your blemished, mutilated welted body. Now, with all said and done, stop hanging around Clement and go get another life, one that befits you, you deformed ogress."

It hurt, it all did and she knew without being told which hungry dog had dug up all the information that the big brown manila envelope had contained. It was none other than that bitch, Sandra Maduabuchi. She was the perpetrator of this evil and she had done it so well, excellently. Now, the contents of the idle manila envelope haunted her wearisomely, made emotions so thick to revisit her. She pooled to the floor, breaking into tears as she did so, recalling every pain, every stroke, every welt, every hit, every tear, every scream, every cry, remembering every bit of what had happened that fateful night alongside the trauma that it had left on them all, the one that even years of therapy had never been able to heal.                                          

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She had just managed to fall asleep when the knock on the door called her away from the merciful oblivion that had her in its crutches. She looked at the wall clock to check the time. It was about fourteen minutes past twelve o'clock and she wondered if it was her pizza delivery. It was due. She wore her house slippers and trudged to the door, thankful that she had touched up her make up about thirty minutes ago after she had cried a storm or she would be doing so now. She opened the door without inquiring who was knocking on it and received a shock different from the ones she had been receiving since that morning. It was a pristine one on another whole new level. It left her rattled, dangling like an oscillating balls. She was face to face with the last person that she hoped not to see on the face of the earth. It was no other than Clement.

They stood like two parallel poles, staring at each other with the intensity of their emotions in their eyes. It was obvious to both that they had missed each other, needed each other but weren't there for each other. She struggled to control her emotions and find what to say, but before she could speak, he took her in his arms and enveloped her in a rather tight hug, feeling her as if he thought she had been lost but was suddenly recently found. Her body recognized his, missing completely the feel of his arms around hers and the warm essence of his being in her heart.

'Chloe, Chloe, Chloe,' he called repeatedly, 'I have missed you.' She said nothing again at his words, trying to compose herself while he held her. She wasn't yet ready to tell him what had made her chase him away last night, so she might as well try to remain unattached till she could do so. By the time he let go of her, she was stable enough to reason with her head and not her heart.

'What are you doing here?' she asked him. His face contorted with confusion which quickly shifted to anger.

'What on earth do you mean by that Chloe? Ndi ihe e na kooro ihia Chinwem?' what are you saying Chinwem, he questioned her, shifting to Igbo in his anger.

'Ihe m gbagburu gi,' what I told you earlier, she answered, equally in Igbo.

'I have been calling your phone since the morrow and it isn't going through. I went to Silver fire and was told you called in sick, that is the reason why I came right here,' he explained. 'Now, explain to me why you are doing all this? I know it is related to whatever ticked you off yesterday,' he told her. She didn't want to tell him that he was completely right.

'Chemie ihe di gi n'obi jiri ike ike gbatu m,' think deeply on what is weighing your mind and tell it to me as clearly as possible, he said to her, his voice growing softer.

'I do not want you anymore,' she finally said after a moment. He heard her, but chose to pretend as if he had not because he thought he had heard her quite wrongly.

'Kwue okwu ike ike,' speak strongly; he scolded her in a strong voice. She trembled at the intensity of his voice.

'I do not want you anymore!' she yelled at the top of her lungs. 'I do not want you anymore! Do you not hear me now?!' she was panting when she halted. He flared then.

'Ekwusila!' do not tell me that! He snapped at her in a voice that did not take no for an answer, grabbing her by the shoulders. 'Agwala m ifa!' do not tell that to me! He repeated. 'Ihia abulo iroro gi!' this is not your thought, he stressed. He continued in a calmer voice. 'Chemie, a cho m gi maka ihe jikotara anyi di egwu kara anyi. O wu ifunanya jikota anyi,' think deeply, I want you because what holds us together is greater than both of us. It is love that bounds us.

'A choro m gi ozo,' I want you no more, she said to him, her eyes on the floor.

'Chinwem,' he lifted her face so she could look at him. 'Le m anya,' look at me, he pleaded. She did so. 'E mejoo m gi? Owu ihe me e ji e nupu m? Gbagharam Biko.' Did I offend you? Is that why you are pushing me away? Please forgive me.

'No, you didn't,' she answered him. She was the wrong one.

'Then what is it? E mere m gi mma mma ihunayam,' I have done you exceedingly well, he stated in a pained voice. 'Gini mere e ji a gaa azu azu?' why then are you going backward and backward?

'Please Clement; let me be for a while. Nyetu m nwantinti oge, Biko,' give me some time please, she told him with pleading eyes. He stared at her for a long time caressing her face. She leaned into his touch, craving more of his fingers on her skin, closing her eyes to relish it.

'Maka gini? Olee ka e cho?' why? How long do you want? He asked her in a subdued voice.

'Nye m ufodu oge, mana oma ri nne,' just give me a little, but it will not be so much, she assured him without opening her eyes.

'A nue m,' I have heard, he said to her in a soft understanding voice. 'Ka odi,' let it be as you have said, he finished. She nodded gently, still staring into his eyes.

'Thank you,' she said to him. He retracted his hands and she instantly felt alone, empty without his tender touch which was much yearned for by her inner self.

'It is not over yet Chinwem,' he told her before he turned and walked away. He shut the door behind him without looking back at him once. She was too pained to cry, too pained to even think it over, quietly basking in the stinging agony that she had created for herself, elongating it the more. It was after he had left that she realized that he had called her Chinwem, twice.

The pizza arrived twenty minutes after Clement had left. She received the delivery from the cheerful delivery guy with a very sad aura. He noticed her sadness and didn't want to be affected by it. She knew this because he hurried to let her be. She did not mind because she really needed to be left alone, to wallow languidly in her piles and heaps of woes. She opened the pizza and tried to have lunch. She bit into it and felt the tears scratching the back of her eyes, coming closer. By the time she took the third bite, it came cascading down her cheeks, the big fat painful drops, coming quickly, rushing and rolling down in quick successions.

'Why on earth is it so peppery?' she asked again and again, addressing no one but herself. She blamed the pizza for her tears, refusing to admit the cause of her tears lest she do something she might as well thoroughly regret.

That night, after a thorough bath, she cried her very miserable self to sleep without dinner, admitting to herself that her problems were bigger than her and sleep was still far bigger than it. It was her only escape from reality.