CHAPTER 7

Mr. Andrew was almost done with his dinner when he remembered he had not seen his son, Ephraim, all evening. On inquiry, he was informed by his wife, Nnedimma, that she had not seen him either.

"Haven't I warned him not to be closing shop late?" he exploded. "Woman, why are you allowing your son to misbehave? What work could he still be doing by this time of the day?"

"My husband, Ephraim has not been closing late from work recently," she offered. "I am even surprised. I recall he came in around noon and hurriedly left soon after. He said he forgot some fabrics he was to sew for some people, but he looked very stressed and restless. I assumed it was because of the due date for the work, which was probably near. You know how it is with tailors and too much work".

Ephraim, the catechist's son, was the very popular 'Fashion designer' of Umunze as he preferred to be addressed, rather than the common terminology of 'Tailor'. And indeed, his concept and handiwork was fashion designing in every sense of the word. What he lacked in academic endowment, he more than compensated for in craft and creativity. Within a short period of setting up his fashion shop, he established himself as the number one choice, the one-stop call for good outfits. His mastery of unisex designs and dexterity in the art further enhanced his reputation, and his shop soon became a meeting point for both the young and old who desired a good look. His originality soon became legendary in Umunze and beyond. He was the originator of 'High waist', a type of trouser that had a double beltline and holder, and sometimes, high up more than the half-line of the torso. The beauty of that design was mainly seen during windy conditions when the wearer appeared to be getting ready to get airborne with the flapping of the trouser fabric, which was usually in excess. To achieve this effect, a particularly very light fabric nicknamed 'Yobris' came into vogue as the material of choice. To complement these were his pocket and belt holder designs. They were usually out of this world, bothering on the fringes of the eccentric.

The females were not left out in Ephraim's creative extravaganza and imaginative effusions. His poignantly pointy shoulder pad designs gave the impression of an eagle swooping down on its prey. The slits on his skirt designs could be so high up the thigh and dangerously provocative.  As a matter of fact, this, at a time, drew condemnation from the Church of which his father was amongst its leadership. He was forced to tone down on the provocative designs thereafter. In Umunze, if your outfit was not from 'Epheco Fashions' – as his business name read, you were a beginner.

Aside from his creative prowess, Ephraim was a charmer. He was very handsome and bubbly; he could make friends with about anybody and indeed possessed a remarkable amount of amiable nature. These pulled the females like bees to a flower, not discountenancing the important fact that they usually possessed more need and desire for changes in their wardrobe composition, more than their male counterparts.

Mr. Andrew would have loved that Ephraim furthered his education beyond the secondary level. Tried as he did, all his efforts came to naught. Ephraim was afflicted with a high degree of dyslexia all through his academic life and was erroneously judged academically unsound. However, his creative pull was so strong and evident even from childhood when he sewed together anything he could lay his hands on. He even managed to make dainty dresses from banana leaves as a child. With much pressure from Nnedimma, the catechist finally relented and sent Ephraim to Nnokwa to properly learn tailoring from one elderly Aba-trained tailor.

True, his son was now doing well as a tailor, but the information he had been receiving about Ephraim lately, especially with women, had been less than charitable. He thought of forcing him to marry but later discarded that idea. Ephraim was still young for marriage, he figured. His mates were still in school or in apprenticeship for one trade or the other. Moreover, he was the son of the catechist of the prestigious St. Pius Catholic Church of Umunze; they should be setting examples for others to follow. Ephraim must be reined in immediately; people look up to him, he concluded.

These thoughts followed him to sleep, and uncharacteristically, he did not stir until early dawn, when his body had become accustomed to waking in order to be in the church early to organize the day's Mass. He was shocked when he woke up and beheld his wife seated by the foot of the bed, crying. His heart skipped.

"Nnedimma, o gini?  What is the matter?"

"Ephraim did not come back last night," she answered.

Anger swelled inside of him. "So, Ephraim has now grown tail he can decide to sleep out any time he wants? I think he has grown too big because this house cannot contain him and me. Two captains cannot be on the same ship. You better tell him to build his own house because I will not allow his nonsense anymore in this house."

"Why are you talking like his, my husband? Her voice was markedly up a notch in anger, a sharp departure from her usually calm mien. "Has Ephraim ever slept out before?" she continued. "Are you not worried that something might have happened to him? Instead of praying for his safety, you are here talking about house and captain".

That actually got him. She could be right, he admitted.

Ephraim had never slept out before while at home. As a matter of fact, he never left the house again whenever he had returned from work. Even at that, he came home with part of his work (fabrics) most of the time, which he would take out time to cut and prepare into sketches during the night. Of anything anyone could say negatively about Ephraim, it was not his attitude to work. He was indeed diligent at it. Maybe he stayed back at the shop to work overnight and meet up with demand, he consoled. But he knew almost immediately that even that scenario was highly improbable. His shop was located at the highly exposed market square, which got deserted once darkness sets in. It would be foolhardy for anyone to remain there all night under any guise. Moreover, the sound of his sewing machine and the illumination of light from his lantern would easily give him away. The market square was a dangerous place at night, only reserved for the spirits and maybe men of the underworld. There was no way his son would be that foolish to risk it.

He was already running late. He would swing into action after the morning Mass and find answers to his son's whereabouts. He did his best to lift Nnedimma's spirit and left for church.