Chapter 13

Buchi stood idly before her door for over thirty seconds, wondering if he was even doing the right thing. True, he had wronged her, but was that an excuse for him to be here? He contemplated. He sighed in exasperation, frustrated by his angst. He went for the doorbell, ringing it once, twice and on the third he was attended to.

"Who's there?" A voice enquired from the other end, as she opened the door without even waiting for his reply. Dera froze at the sight of Buchi standing in front of her hotel room. How did he find her? She wondered. She did not recall telling him of her location. The bewilderment on her face was discarded rather too quickly, as her face contorted into a serious frown.

"What do you want?" She snapped, glowering at her visitor.

"I just wanted to apologize for last night..." he began, then paused as his attention shifted to her red swollen eyes. "Are you alright? You look sick." He asked concerned.

"This is what I won't tolerate. You coming back here, pretending like you care, when you don't." Dera warned him, her voice tiny as she fought to suppress the wails threatening to burst out of her mouth. "Please leave!"

At the charity event, last night.

At the peak of the event, the Chairman and his wife were still busy attending to some esteemed guests. After Buchi had finished with his own chores, he sat back on a lone table, resting his legs — he had been spent from standing all the night. He was about to help himself with some wine before he felt a hand grip his shoulder firmly. He jerked and wheeled about involuntarily — cautiously, only to find his father standing before him.

"You're not welcomed here! What do you want?" He spoke harshly to his father.

"Are you sure, you'd like me to say it here? With everyone around?" His father replied calmly, looking Buchi in the eye. Buchi was silent for a moment, as if he was struggling internally to come to a conclusion. "No? I thought so too." His father mocked him.

"Come. We'll discuss this in my Study." Buchi muttered, signaling his father to follow him. The two worked their way to the study, with Buchi excusing himself occasionally from guests. He was anxious to ditch his father. Having him around was suffocating. It made him feel like a wounded animal, cramped in a corner. He never liked being in a situation where he wasn't the one in control. Buchi locked the door behind them as they finally entered his study.

"What do you want?" He snapped at his father who was getting himself comfortable on a couch.

"So it's illegal to pay my son a visit?"

"That's bullshit! Cut to the chase dad... and please don't speak ill about my wife." Buchi warned sternly.

"I was going to ask for a truce; but now you've mentioned it, why don't we talk about it?" His father dared him.

"Dad!" Buchi yelled in anger, and with one fluid motion he was standing before his father, his fists clenched and on his face an unbridled mask of fury. His father rose almost simultaneously too, meeting his scowl with a deadly glower as he stared his son right in the eye without flinching. His gaze was menacing and forbidden. The two men stared at each other angrily for minutes, with Buchi's father standing a few inches taller than him. The tension between them escalated in the silence till it became awkward that none had thrown the first punch yet.

"Sit!" Buchi's father thundered a command, causing Buchi to flinch.

"No I won't. You can't come to my house and order me around." Buchi snapped back at him. Suddenly, Buchi's father began to laugh, a soft menacing laughter. Buchi observed him bemused, and almost at an instant, the laughter was gone and his father's face was contorted once more into a frown — a very mean one.

"I won't repeat myself again, boy. Sit!" He ordered sternly, clenching both fists as his jaw muscles stiffened. Buchi stared at his father for a few moments, then he finally sat down.

"I'm only sitting because my legs are hurting." Buchi muttered to himself.

"Good. Now where were we?" His father asked rhetorically. "Yes, I remember. Oh Fabulous. Such a wonderful girl. Even after all these years, I still find it difficult to assimilate the fact that she's dead." He muttered, wearing an emotional semblance. "May her gentle soul rest in peace."

"Cut the crap! This is disgusting! You have no respect for dead!" Buchi censured his father.

"You had no respect for her when she was alive, either." His father snapped back at him.

"Because I'm partly responsible for her death, doesn't mean you should keep rubbing it on my face, dad! I have feelings too, for Chris' sake!"

"She had feelings too! No, but you allowed some family wrecker to use you as a pawn to destroy your own family!"

"Nobody instigated her death, father. What happened that day was just a series of unfortunate events!"

"A series of unfortunate events? So you letting her off that night, knowing quite well she had issues with keeping speed limits was part of it too? Or you bringing a drunk woman into your house? Son don't be a hypocrite! Even I am beginning to find it difficult to believe that you didn't do what you did intentionally, because each time I think of it, I don't seem to understand. She never liked Jennifer around you, and was even more than open to discuss the issue with you everytime; but you neglected her. You were always clinging to that woman. How do I even know if all these were not deliberate actions? I pray God doesn't forgive you if they were." His father admonished. Buchi was calm now, humbled by his father's censuring. "Do you know why I clutch my grandson close to me?" The older man continued. "It's because I don't trust your new wife!" he said matter-of-factly. "I'll be leaving now son, but before that, I want to give you something to think about. If Jennifer has always had the perfect life, why was she drunk that day?"