“Let’s go to my office so I can give you a proper update, Tide gestured, leading the way.
“I think you’ve told me all there is. “Please take me to Meena. I want to see her. Now that I had the blood transfusion out of the way. I wanted to catch a glimpse of Meena.”
“JK, let’s go to my office first. There is more I need to tell you before you see Meena.” A dread filled me; I could not form the words to the thought that flashed through my mind.
“She is alive, although in a critical condition. Tide reassured me. We were now in what I guessed was her office as she motioned to me to sit down.
“I did not tell you the whole truth. Meena was not rushed here from the office, and your number was in her file, indicating you should only be contacted if anything happened to her. She was involved in a head-on collision and was brought in here unconscious. We were luck y ot have her history as she’s been attending this hospital for her antenatal care, and the pregnancy was indeed a high-risk pregnancy. I was not the doctor seeing her for internal. Everything else mentioned earlier is true.
I took this all in. “How critical is her condition?”
“She is in a coma, and we had to take the baby out,” Tide answered, taking my hands across the table, trying to reassure me.
I felt a huge rock settle on my shoulders. “People from a coma wake up, right? “They do,” Tide responded gravely. She had a swelling around the brain area. We are watching it and monitoring her closely, but there is a danger that she may not regain her memory. Whether that would be in part or in full, we cannot say until she wakes up. The rock had left my shoulders and was now on my chest. I was having difficulty breathing. In a flash, my mind went down memory lane: the first time I met her at that party in a corner with a book in her hand; the day she agreed to date me; our honeymoon; when we had our first child; and the second. Her last trip to Paris. The shock and disappointment when she learnt of the supposed baby from my P.A. Our last memories together were not ones I was proud of or could erase. I did not realise I had been crying and felt the wetness on my face as I came back to consciousness of my surroundings. I was in Tide’s office, and although a few minutes had passed, it seemed like an eternity.
“Can I see her now?” The words tremble, my voice breaking beneath a flood of tangled emotions.
“Her face is swollen and all wrapped in a bandage. She has a broken rib and her arm. A few cuts around her body from the broken glass.” Tide continued. I tried to smile, but it must have shown only as a slight widening of my lips, prompted by the professionalism with which she spoke. It felt like a bad dream, and I wanted to wake up. I stood up, but I couldn’t feel my legs as I followed her. I felt my body moving on its own volition while I watched from the sidelines.
All the description Tide provided did not prepare me for what I saw. Meena was all wrapped up in bandages, almost everywhere and strapped to machines. I gasped and gagged as I felt like throwing up. I held on to the wall, trying to steady myself. I needed to be strong for Meena, the kids and myself. We would get through this as we have always done. A part of me said, while the other argued to let her go, what if she wakes up and is not who she was before the accident?
“How soon can she be moved?” I asked. “I want her in the best facility we can secure.” My voice was steady, final in the tone that leaves no room for discussion.
“Not now, but I have made arrangements for some relevant top professionals in their fields to fly down. The money you transferred has been helpful. Once she is out of the coma, provided that happens and after further observation. If you still want to move her. That can be arranged.
I should be happy that I had found Meena, but this wasn’t how the story was supposed to go.
I gazed at Meena’s picture, which was my screensaver. How does someone disappear from the surface of the earth, just like that, without any trace? I am still surprised I survived the last seven months, hanging by a thread and drawing strength from pouring my energy into my business. It showed: we expanded, hitting the trillion-dollar mark. I should have been thrilled and over the moon, but success had no meaning without Meena by my side. I kept going as it was the outlet that kept me sane. Every breakthrough, every contract won, every company acquired, and every million-goal achieved, till the trillion mark was reached as we had dreamt. Ironically, there was no Meena to celebrate with. The one person who had believed I would make it, even when I doubted myself, was not there. The milestone celebrated by the media and everyone around me meant nothing.
My face was splashed across all the magazines; I had turned down several interviews and still had a long list of interviews to attend. The random women coming at me was another battle, and fending them off was still another greater one. Taking Hauwa’u to the tech award six months ago was to keep the women away. Instead, the media went wild with stories. I still can’t wrap my head around how it came about. My mother was the one who called and asked if I had moved on so quickly from Meena, and why it had to be her friend, and how she did not trust Hauwa’u. The same woman who gave Meena hell is the one protecting her territory in her absence. The thought of Hauwa’u and me was the most ludicrous of the century. Still, having been framed by my receptionist, I was coming to terms with the fact that nothing could surprise me any longer.
My friends and associates were asking me what happened to my wife as a result of the news on social media. It was tiring trying to explain to people close to me who did not know that I, JK, had no idea where my wife and two daughters were, and Hauwa’u was just one of my wife’s closest friends.
The moment Hauwa’u’s husband showed up at my door, I knew without a doubt that inviting her to the tech awards had been a colossal mistake. I was taken aback when I was told Alhaji Sherrif was here to see me. After exchanging pleasantries with a man I had only encountered once or twice—despite the closeness of our wives—I was stunned when he claimed Hauwa’u had eyes on me. I was her closest friend’s husband, yet he said he was shocked to see our supposed relationship splashed across social media. I wondered if I was in some twilight zone.
“This is some sick joke, Sheriff, but even that is too far. If you have any issues, please discuss them with your wife. I cannot even fathom the need to refute such allegations. I have bigger problems to find my missing wife, and I am not looking to replace her, not now and not ever.”
“I thought to come over, I may not have a conventional marriage with Hauwa’u and may have afforded her some liberties not common to a northern woman, but I would not want to be taken for a fool for someone so close to me.”
He got to his feet and, on his way out, tossed one last accusation over his shoulder. “If you were truly serious about finding your wife, you’d be digging into her friends,” he said, and then he was gone.
I did not give much of what he said a second thought as he left my office. Whatever information Meena’s friends had, they had been good at keeping it close to their chests and guarding it with their whole lives to prevent it from even slipping out.
Not long after, a call came through from a strange number, and I almost didn’t pick up, but I did. “JK,” I recognised the voice immediately, “Tide, I asked in wonder. My cousin, whom I had not heard from for over a decade. “One and only coz”, she responded in her usual way. The days we ran Lagos together, flashing through my mind in a millisecond before she fell in love and married. “You, you walked away without a backward glance. You no try at all.“
“Ma binu, you know why I had to cut everyone off, including you or else my mum would have really pressured you. ‘O de ba aburo e soro‘. “
I smiled. Tide was spot on. Auntie Nike, her mom, to this day does not believe that I did not have her contact. After many months of asking me, she gave up, which was one of the reasons I could half-believe that Meena’s friends did not know where she was, even though it was hard to believe.
“So, after 10 years, you suddenly decided to call, ‘Kilode gan‘, if your mom did not accept the Igbo man you brought home and decided to marry. Cutting off your family was not the best, after all, against all odds; she agreed to the wedding”
“JK, let’s not go there. They made our lives a living hell at every family gathering and opportunity. The wedding was a disaster, just like a war zone. I could not bring up children in that toxicity between both families”
“So, you decided to just up and miss from the surface of the earth?” I expressed my displeasure.
“Well, that makes two of us,” she responded quietly, which I almost did not hear.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I read on the blogs that tech guru JK’s wife is missing”
I groaned. “Where are you, sef, that you are following Nigeria’s fake news?” I did not want to burden her with my drama.
“I am in the Gambia.”
Dr Tide Jideonwo, I thought you were in the US of A. We were! But we moved to Gambia just 6 months ago. It was the dumbest decision, and it didn’t make sense. Chidi was so sure we should move, and yes, we did. What we did not know was that we were sent ahead because of one coconut head cousin of mine.
“And that is definitely not me. Who is it?”
“You, of course. Coz, get the next available flight and head to Royal Cross Hospital in Banjul. I am so sorry; there is no better way to break this news to you. We are doing our best. With her voice going down a little octave lower, “your wife and baby are in my hospital, and your attention is needed urgently.”
“What are you talking about?” I heard her words, but they did not make sense. We were not expecting any baby when she disappeared on me. You must have the wrong person. I am sure that you have the wrong person.” I heard my voice, but it didn’t sound like me. My heart was racing so fast it frightened me.
“I do not know, but he has your rare blood group.” Whether he is your son or not, that can be checked later. Your wife and baby need you. How soon can you get here? We are seeking a blood donor because we do not have a match in our blood bank.
She was rushed from work and has been in and out of consciousness, but kept asking for JK. I did not know who she was at the time, but when she said JK, I wondered if you were the one. When she gave you her number, between in and out of consciousness, there was a desperate plea to reach you. I dialled the number, and it was yours! How crazy is that?
In one breath, I was relieved that Meena had been found and was reaching out to me, but in the next, apprehensive that Tide might not be telling me everything and that the situation was worse than she was making it out to be.
Without missing a beat, I told her I would be on the next flight to Gambia. I asked whether they needed anything and instructed that no expense be spared to provide them with the best possible care. I asked her to send the hospital’s bank details so I could arrange payment immediately. If they needed to be flown out of the country, I said to do whatever it took.
Meena must be fine. I’ve gone through hell without her. I do not think I will survive losing her. As soon as I dropped the phone, I contacted my PA to instruct the bank to transfer N50,000,000 to the Gambia Hospital, as Tide had sent the bank details via email. I called Alfred Tike, my oil mogul friend with a private jet. I have an emergency – I need an immediate flight to Gambia. Without question or losing a beat, he responded, “I will instruct the pilot to get ready. Just make your way to the tarmac. I will have the pilot call you. If I can be of further assistance, do not hesitate to contact me.
The next step was to call my driver while I picked up my passport from the safe in my office and the only change of clothes I had there. No bag packed, no calls to anyone, and I was out. I was tense but refused to entertain the possibility of losing Meena. Meena left seven months ago. She could not have known that she was pregnant. Gambia! I would never have thought. We had combed the US, the UK, Canada, Australia, and the nearby Accra.
I was on autopilot as I made my way to the airport to catch my flight. The six-hour flight to Gambia was the longest of my life. As soon as I landed, I called Tide. A car was already waiting to take me to the hospital. The car had barely come to a complete stop when I opened the car door and rushed into the reception. Tide was already there waiting for me. “How’s she?” The dread squeezed my heart as I waited for Tide’s response. She hugged me. She is still the same. I will have a nurse check your blood for compatibility and prepare you for the blood transfusion.
A nurse took me away, followed closely by Tide, who briefed me further. “From the notes, she’s begged to give her baby priority over her. It’s been a high-risk pregnancy, and we’ve waited till the best possible time to bring the baby out as healthy as he can be. She wanted the baby so severely that it was at risk to her life. I hung my head in guilt. If anything happened to Meena, the blame would be mine alone. I understood why the baby was her priority; after all, she had endured from my mother, the very reason she had left. While I had never put pressure on having more children, as we were happy with the two children we had, I could not understand why she would go through this alone without reaching out to me. The child was ours. She should never have gone through this alone. I was on a roller coaster of emotions. Sometimes I was angry at myself, then mad at Meena for not believing in me enough to stay. At the same time, another voice will ask whether I would have forgiven Meena if the tables were turned. I was balling my fist at just the thought and slumping in defeat simultaneously. You cannot ask someone what you cannot give in return when faced with the same situation.
“When can I see her and the baby?” Once we are done here, you can see her, but you will see the baby from the glass and later be prepped to go into the ICU.
I read the blogs and comments and laughed it off. Who will believe all the conspiracy theories? Just because JK won a tech award, all the lenses have been pointed at his life, his background, and his history. I saw a post by a random person saying I met JK at a party before going to the university. I did not recognise the name, but that person must have known me or someone who does. No one was there to agree or disagree with the comment.
When they were tired, they would move on to the next big scandal. In Nigeria, it was a scandal every other market day. At best, a story will be on for 2 or 3 weeks. Still, something else always came up, and trust Nigerians to take the matter into their own hands, discussing strangers’ personal issues with so much passion and conviction that one would think they had slept and woken up in the same room with the strangers. No action, no solution, heated arguments and unsolicited advice. It was the 21st-century equivalent of market-square gossip. If we diverted the same energy to solving our national issues, the nation wouldn’t be where it is.
I swiped away from social media to my email, bringing up Meena’s email. I held back responding to her. If I were to start divorce proceedings, JK would know we were in touch, and he would be pissed off that I withheld this information from him, which would damage the access I currently have to him. Moreover, JK would not agree to a divorce without putting up resistance.
Talk about the devil. JK’s call came through. Without any greeting, his voice blaring through my phone, “I would not be needing your Investigator.”
“Why?”I asked, a dread coming over me, another dent to my plans.
“I changed my mind.” His tone sounded final, the kind he must be using in his negotiations. I could not be intimidated by any tone; I have seen much worse in the courtroom or with some unruly clients who think money has made them gods and given them license to speak without being spoken back to.
“Are you not looking for your wife anymore?” I ventured to ask.
“I did not call to be interrogated by you. You seem to think that I do not know that Meena would have been in contact with you women. I have never believed it, and I still do not.”
And just like that, the call went dead. JK had ended the call. Does this guy have some sixth sense? My access to every piece of information from the Investigator would have been my cue to filter any information he received. My frustration was building up. Meena had been gone for more than three months now, and I was no closer to making him see me as the woman he needs. If I have been patient for 10 years and now suddenly fortune has smiled on me with Meena leaving, what is 12 months more of waiting? JK, you can run for all you want. I will get you this time. There is no comeback from Meena. She would never take you back. I sank into my chair, my gaze on the ceiling. I had an exit clause in my marriage to Sheriff. I would finally be with the one I have loved all these years.
I still hadn’t heard from Hauwa after one week, and I wondered whether she had missed my email or was simply overwhelmed with work. I did not want to call, as I was sure JK would leave no stone unturned in getting information out of them, knowing I would contact my closest girlfriends, and I did not want to put them in that position. Although I know my girlfriends would choose to protect me.
The tech awards were all over social media that weekend. From the moment I saw it, I went across all the social media to follow the event. Guess who was filled with so much pride when JK received his award that she momentarily forgot she had moved on? It was me!
I was confused when I saw Hauwa’u at the event, sitting with JK in one of the many videos I watched. The Tech industry was not her space, and even if my friend found herself at an event with JK, she would have made sure to sit many seats away from him. I still don’t understand why Hauwa acted that way, despite JK’s many attempts to be polite and respectful. They seemed to find a way to mutually exist because of me.
It looked weird the way Hauwa’u was gazing at JK like a lovesick teenager in the 10-second video clip. In that instance, I felt a little concerned for her; social media would likely blow it out of proportion, making it a Herculean task to explain to Alhaji, her husband. Worse, she was not even with her veil; her head was all exposed. Hauwa’u grew up in Lagos and did not cover her hair, but started doing so in public after she got married. Veils were left in the car on our nights out, but we weren’t expecting anyone to take pictures of us, and the venues of our nights out were our homes.
I reached for my phone to call Hawa’u, chuckling when I remembered yet again that it was not an option. The more I watched the clips, the more it meant something different. The last thought was preposterous. Hauwa’u and JK. The sun will cease to rise before that could happen. JK has a baby mama to wed, Hauwa’us unusual marriage arrangement and lifestyle, as well as animosity towards JK, would never allow it. I wondered if I had watched too many Nollywood movies recently for such plot twists to come easily to mind.
I logged out of the media space and clicked on the Economist magazine to read. I did not have the headspace to entertain such ridiculous thoughts. I made up my mind to stop checking online for JK and focus on myself and my girls.
I thought of calling my mom, but changed my mind. The last time I called, she begged me to contact JK, despite my instructions not to discuss JK at any time I called. She kept insisting that the girls need their father and would stubbornly not let me be, so I have given her a break equally. I still had not told my mother I was pregnant. I could almost predict my mom’s action. She would literally pass her phone to JK so that when my random call came through, he would answer it. Sometimes, I wonder who her child was, JK or me? She’s all about JK, this JK that, but can’t see what her precious JK had done to me, her own daughter. I love that woman to bits, but I swear, she is a sellout. Quite frankly, the connection between them sometimes makes me jealous. JK doesn’t play with my mom. He displays the same warmth and affection he has for his mom towards my mum. For that, he’s earned points with my family members. The way my mom sings his praises, he can do no wrong in her eyes. One day, my mum is on my side, and the next day she is on JK’s.
I waited for two hours and still did not hear from Hauwau. This was very unlike her. She would have fired me with emails threatening me to call her as soon as possible. The silence was louder than her many shrieks in person.
It is official. My friends hated me! I stayed away because I could not afford to take chances. JK will have his eyes on them, very sure they will have information about my location.
The girls and I had just come in. I picked them from school, which was a short five-minute walk from the house, on the days my schedule allowed it. On other days, the elderly housekeeper Madam Asanatou did. Banjul was a quieter and slower-paced town than Abuja. The population for the whole area was comparable to that of Asokoro or Jabi. The Gambians were friendly, and the girls and I settled in nicely.
I feel guilty about taking the girls from JK, but I couldn’t have left my precious babies alone, and I needed to take a walk. I could have been wrong, but I still think I could demonstrate resilience in any other situation, but not infidelity.
I sighed as I stepped into the cold air-conditioned house. The heat was something else. Abuja heat would have prepared us for Banjul. But no, the weather was something I could never get used to. I prefer the cold weather, but Anastasiya, a colleague who comes originally from Russia, warns me to be careful what I ask for.
It’s been three months since I left JK without a hint. I booked a flight to Lagos under a different name, and from there, we travelled to Accra by road and then took a flight to the Gambia.
I wasn’t stupid enough to leave any tracks. I did not want to be found. I needed to just disappear and build a life for myself and the girls.
I started work with the Gambian branch of my office in Nigeria. Still, two weeks after my resumption, there came another opportunity to work with UNESCO in the country. It was a perfect opening for me. I applied, and six weeks after a series of interviews, I got the role. I was extremely excited because the work time was flexible, allowing me to fit it around my kids. The girls attended the bilingual international school, paid for by the company. We were comfortable, and I could not complain.
I am already thinking of bringing my mum. She is still upset with me. And all my reasons why appear not to resonate with her.
I threatened not to call her again if she keeps moaning about JK. She should accept my decision and refrain from discussing him with me. I did not want to know what he did or anything about it. I was surprised he had not married the lady carrying his son. With the way his mother was excited about the birth of her grandson, one would think that they would have completed the marriage rites quickly and moved on with their lives. Maybe it was a quiet wedding. Whatever, it was not my business. I tried to convince myself I did not care. Still, I was the one poring over the Internet looking for updates on Jamal Kolawole Lawson or Lawson Technologies. JK had clinched that contract he was working on before I left. I knew, as it was all splashed over the news and one of the top technology blogs, I followed because of him. Luckily, his personal life had not been featured on those gossip blog sites.
I closed all my social media accounts and operated under a pseudonym. This was to keep in touch with friends, but it was more like ghosting, as I could never comment or give away my identity.
So, I stalked him through his pages, not that anything was going on there. He had not posted anything in the last four months. He had zero presence on social media.
Yes, I was that pathetic. I justified my actions. And I would not admit that I still love JK. I had a responsibility to know he was okay as the father of my girls.
In a moment of weakness, I dialed his number the moment I found out he won the contract, and I was expecting another child. JK picked the call and kept repeating “hello,” while I held on relishing the sound of his voice unable to utter a word. I broke down in silent tears when he asked, “Is that you, Meena?” Holding onto my mobile phone as if my life depended on it. I wanted to ask him how he was doing and congratulate him on his big win. I wanted to let him know we were expecting our third child. I just held on till he cut the call. If only I could forget why and how we got to this point.
I cradled my stomach, feeling life growing inside of me. Finding out that I am expecting our third child was a bittersweet feeling. Surprised because I had put measures in place not to have any more children, and shocked, as this was not the time in my life to carry a child and do so alone without JK. I wished I could turn the hands of the clock back again when all was good between us. I tortured myself with the thoughts of how excited JK would have been, even though we were not expecting it. It was still a blessing from God and worth celebrating. If it were a boy, it would have been his mother’s answered prayer. If it were a girl, we would have been ecstatic at the arrival of yet another version of me and the array of pink ribbons and dresses that forever adorned our home. They all came with their unique personality. You couldn’t help but fall in love with them and marvel at how these tiny, perfect beings came from two imperfect beings, and how quickly they kept growing, keeping you on your toes. The sassiness and know-it-all get to me on some days, the confidence and innocence bring out the fire to protect them as much as I can from the evil in the world. I remain their biggest cheerleader, letting them know they can be anything they choose to be, and nothing can stop them.
I played with my phone while I waited for JK to finish his call but was distracted by the aroma of fresh stew coming from the kitchen. My stomach growled in defiance, and I struggled with concentrating on the email that just came in.
It was from Meena! I gazed at JK, he was still busy with his phone. I scanned the email, and the news brightened my day in two ways, money and a step towards my goal. She insisted I get paid for my service as her lawyer to start her divorce proceedings. She wanted me to draft the divorce papers, email her to sign and deliver to JK.
“Is that good news?” I almost passed out. Wasn’t he on a call any longer?
“Just an email from a client,” That was not a lie, it just wasn’t the absolute truth. I needed to get in touch with Meena if this was what she really wanted. The moment the lines were signed. I will have my chance as the next Mrs JK.”
A rumble from my stomach reminded me I had not eaten this morning. That aroma coming from the kitchen was doing its number on me. Cooking was not my thing. I left that to Meena and Sa’a. I was not leaving here without a bowl of what the witch mother or mother- devil was cooking. I would kneel at her feet if that was what it will take.
“The Private Investigator got caught in traffic and has turned back. He wanted to find out if you had had any form of contact from Meena; call, email, watsapp, liked or commented on any of your post on social media posting.”
“Are those the questions he is asking?” I asked in disbelief.
“When he should have been out there gleaning every information, he can lay his hands on. If need be, hack into phones, systems, databases etc. I began to doubt his capabilities the moment you said he was waiting on the airline authorities for the airlines’ manifesto. Where did you get such an incompetent fellow from?” I fumed and to be fair to the guy he had asked a valid question no matter how irrelevant it sounded but I was not going to tell JK about this recent email yet. I still needed to read the email properly and strategise my next line of action.
“He was recommended to me as the best in his field.”
“This is someone who has not been able to give you a clue in three months of Meena disappearance? I am not sure what field he is playing in,” I shook my head appalled at JK’ s slowness to relieve the guy of his duties if he was not delivering on the job.
“I can recommend one or two of the guys we use in my law firm,” I offered. Holding my breath if he would take up my offer. I knew just the right guy he would work for both of us and only release the information I wanted him to and when. The universe must have my back on this mission as everything I needed appeared to fall within my reach with ease.
“Send the best out of the two to my office tomorrow. I don’t have the luxury of time for interviews and a selection.”
“Not a problem, I would do that as soon as possible.”
“Hauwau,” JK called my name and paused. He appeared to be struggling with what to say. My heart lost a bit as I paused, wondering if he had finally seen the light -to see me for who I am. The woman who has been forever in love with him. My hopes are high, and the two or three seconds were like eternity.
“I know you women don’t like me now. You think I have let your friend down. I love her from the first day I set my eyes and will love her till I die. There can never be anyone for me except Meena.”
I could strangle JK right now. How blind and dumb can men be? He is professing his love for Meena who will serve him divorce papers, and here I am ready to jump at any affection he throws my way. Yet, he treats me like a piece of furniture.
“I have to be going,” I announced abruptly, ready to leave when the whiff of the aroma from the kitchen hit my nostrils.
“Can you help with a bowl of your mum’s stew, please?”
“Irresistible?” he winked at me, and my heart dropped to my feet. I was drowning in this my one-sided love affair but convincing with time, he would fall in love with me eventually. I shrugged unashamed – stew I must have o! if I can’t have the man today.
He laughed, the first I had heard since this whole Meena’s disappearance saga started. Giving a glimpse to the guy I fell in love with many years ago. I loved this part of JK and wished he could return to his old playful self. These days, he was always looking stressed and worried. Not even clinching the multi-billion telecom deal in the country, the first week Meena left could make him loosen up. He shut to prominence the week Meena left. Sadly, she was not by his side to celebrate this milestone.
JK went into the kitchen and came out with a bowl of stew, leaving my mouth opened to a perfect O. I looked behind him half expecting to see witch mother behind him with some choice words I deserved for stealing her fresh fish stew. Technically she hadn’t given me.
“How did you get Mama to release her stew? I would have gone myself; it was that easy.”
“I’ll take this away,” JK held the bowl, leaving my outstretched arms dangling. “You can go and get yours from her.”
“Not so fast, JK, I was only joking. You need to hear her words to Sa’a and myself earlier today. I swear she hates us.”
“She does not. She is only hurting like every one of us is right now, but we all have different ways of handling situations. She’s like a porcupine lashing out at others with her pines while trying to protect herself. The girls were her world.”
I am dumbfounded. It appears we were talking about two different people but hey who cares, I got my stew, and that’s cool for me. I still need her far away from her son, though.
“I have a gala night in my honour by the State Governor next weekend, you want to come? I could really help with a known face for the night,” he asked. The confident suave JK was looking so unsure.
I did not want to sound so eager, so I asked if I could think about. My dreams are all coming true.
I need to start work and speed up Meena’s divorce proceedings. But first, I must make a call to her mum. I doubt the call she mentioned to JK was Meena’s first call. I am almost sure she knew where her daughter was and had been sworn to secrecy. The attorney-client privilege afforded me the right to know all the details of my client, and mummy dearest had better start talking.
I was brought back from my reverie with a nudge from Sa’a. “ Are you okay?” She asked with much concern, and I felt guilty to be a recipient of such kindness. I hated myself for what I was about to do but justified my action – something I find myself to be doing these days. It may be a way of me assuaging the guilt I felt at my helplessness for the feelings I had for JK. I thought I had successfully tamed it to non-existence. Still, it appears to be back like an unstoppable inferno threatening to consume me.
“I am okay,” I confirmed removing the Gucci glasses so she could see my face.
“I know it is so hard coming to terms with this whole drama. I hope she is safe wherever she is.”
“I hope so too,” I muttered afraid my lack of empathy will give me away.
“Can we go inside?” JK asked ushering us away from the blare of the hot scorching sun into the foyer decorated with live plants and cane furniture which gave the space a rustic but welcoming feel. I was so thirsty and could help with a glass of cold water. Still, the thought of an encounter with Mother – devil did not allow me to venture into the kitchen and help myself as I had done many times when Meena was around. Friend the word filled my mouth with bile. Traitor my rational brain taunted. I dropped my head, closing my eyes and will the headache I could feel coming.
“Are you sure you are okay?” Sa’ a asked again, worry etched on her forehead, and this time I was getting more irritated not at her of course but the guilt I felt at my betrayal.
“I’ m fine, just a headache which could be because of the heat,” I fibbed.
“Do you want cold water? please forgive my manners.” JK asked and apologised as he ushered us into the main house.
“I was focused on the latest information I have on Meena,” he explained.
“She called?” asked Sa’a with excitement, I did not share.
“Yes, she called her mum to say she was safe, and the woman should not worry. Meena used a private number, so we are unable to trace the call.
“Oh,” Sa’a mumbled, and I could feel her disappointment like a deflated balloon.
“At least we know that she is well and that is what is important for now,” I said with all the cheer I could muster.
“Yeah,” JK nodded, and I felt sorry for him but not so sorry. Who in her right sense will walk away from a guy like JK? He had made his money through hard work, it was not the Daddy hand me down riches. JK identified with people from both sides of the financial spectrum. In Nigeria, you were either rich or poor. The middle class has been long wiped off.
My brain was churning out strategic ideas. And first was to alienate JK’s mother from him. I had to build and blow her role in Meena’s disappearance out of proportion so he could see all this would not have happened without her.
“All this will not have happened if your mother had not meddled in your affairs. I am sorry to have to say this. Meena must have endured a lot from her, and just maybe she got tired of dealing with your mum. You need to keep her at arm’s length. I would have said before she wrecks your home but that warning is coming too late.
I pulled my falling veil and rewrapped it around my shoulders while I stole a glance to watch the effect of my words. Unfortunately, many times you could not read what JK was thinking. I shrugged and forged ahead to continue my onslaught.
“You need to put your mother…..”
“That is enough, Hauwau,” He barked forcing me to shut my mouth. Well, for now.
“My mom is the least of all our worries. I suppose you will have been digging for information and going down memory lane if Meena gave any indication of her plans. You’ve been friends right from your campus days.”
“And you will know too that Meena only told you what she wanted you to know,” I retorted.
“I have to be going. I must pick the kids from school. Please JK can you ring us when you have any news or if the Private investigator has any questions we can answer on the phone.” She said to JK who is busy texting on his phone. I think he was trying to reach the PI while Sa’a and I chatted away.
Sa’a threw her gaze at me as she had spoken for both of us both. However, I was not done yet, not even the mother from hell inside could stop me.
“I’ ll be going later. I will wait for the meeting with the private investigator?”
“I have to go now, you know how Salima and Raliama hate to be the last kids to be picked. And…”
“Yes, mummy,” I teased Sa’a.
I knew that look. If there was one person who you could read like a book, that would be Sa’a. Her facial expressions gave her away even before the words were formed. She would make a terrible lawyer.
“Don’t go all lawyer on him, the guy is already going through so much.”
I chuckle at her reference to ‘lawyer’ before responding. “I have no intention of doing any of that. Although, I would love to see JK squirm under my scrutiny.
“I heard that!” He snapped and moved away to pick a call that came through.
“I have to take this call,” he waved his phone as he stepped a few meters away.
“Whatever evil, you have planned for him. Remember he is our friend’s husband. And until she gives you the go-ahead to take him to the gallows, we must respect him.”
“Sa’a, there is a reason I am not with my husband. All this talk of respect bores me,” and I stifle a yawn.
I am cynical like that, and it’s a wonder I am with ladies who love their husbands to death. Well, one of us still does, and I hugged her with a speak to you later and waved while I waited for JK to finish his call.
I recall the first day I met JK. It was the summer holidays, and I had gone to a party with my cousins who were friends of JK. I was introduced to him and got blown away by this handsome bloke. He had Denzel Washington oozing from his being. I was tongue-tied and unable to say any intelligible word except a hello that was so low I was not sure if I had voiced it out or it was in my head. The warmth in his smile that lit up his eyes and the surge of electricity in his handshake shocking me to reality was all I could think about after our meeting. Thankfully, I was saved from further embarrassment when Abdul, my cousin, pulled me to come to meet another friend.
All through the party, my eyes kept going back to have another look at this Adonis. At the end of the party, although we never spoke, I was swooning that I had found my prince charming. JK was the boy for me. I declined all advances from other guys saving myself for JK, convinced without any doubt that the universe will cause our parts to cross again. Then he will profess his undying love for me.
A year later. Our parts did cross, and he professed his undying love but not to me. JK was a social butterfly. Once I had that information. I was at as many parties on campus, but he never acknowledged my presence. It was like we had never met. I was crushed but never gave up that he would come around and suddenly realise I was the yin to his yang.
Tired of going to these parties. I had practically dragged Meena who was nose into a novel she was reading to a party. My heart somersaulted in ecstasy as JK walked his way towards us. Finally, he recognised me and would profess his love for me.
The shame and disappointment I felt as he walked over to Meena. I watched him as he took the book away from her telling her she was at a party and not the library. The humiliation of choosing my friend he only met seconds ago over me was one I could not easily forget. He smiled at me and nodded his head as he pulled her to follow him to the dance floor while she gazed at me helplessly to come to her rescue. I did what any girl would do and smiled back while holding the tears that threatened to fall, pushing Meena towards him playfully.
I left Meena at the party that night heartbroken. She came back furious I had left her at the party and how she looked everywhere for me. JK had walked her back to campus. He had come every day to our room chasing Meena who was not interested.
They finally started going out in our her third year on campus. By then, I had come to the sad reality that JK was oblivious to my existence and only knew me as Meena’s friend.
The day they started dating was the day; my hatred and dislike for him began. Meena could not understand it despite much prodding.
I told her I was not sure he wouldn’t hurt her and I did not want to see her hurt.
How could I tell my friend that I loved the man she was dating? I learnt to live with it. Gave in to the first guy that asked me out and married the first guy who proposed marriage. My heart was devoid of love. It could only love one guy that I could not have.
That was all in history, and I have the power to write my future. I was not going to sit back as I did many years ago. I was going to take destiny into my hands and do what I should have done long ago.
Meena has left him, and I would help him pick the pieces of his broken heart. My love alone will be enough for both of us.
It’s been three months and no one has heard from Meena. I can’t understand how someone can disappear in this age and time with no clue.
JK’s private investigator is yet to come out with any meaningful leads. He is still exploring all the airline manifesto on the day she left. I have been beside myself with worry while trying to calm her mother that all is well. JK is a shadow of himself. He is barely functioning, a shadow of his former trying to keep up with his daily routine of going to work and keeping the company running.
The whole saga started with Bimpe overhearing JK’s mom complain of Meena not able to give her a grandson. The plan conceived and executed to get JK in the same hotel as her with her boyfriend as an accomplice.
It was all a lie to siphon money from JK and you could visibly see the weight off his shoulders from relief when she confessed he did not touch her and the baby was not his.
The length people can go for money is alarming but the length people would go for love is disarming. This is where the real story begins.
It’s been no hidden secret that I have never been a fan of JK the perfect boyfriend turned husband and like all other men I tolerated after my husband with his philandering ways had done a number on me. I am not bitter. I mistrust and deal with them from afar. I can’t trust this foolish heart of mine not to fall in love again. I was aloof and dealt with the opposite sex on a professional basis with my guards up. One of the old recipes of love budding is time spent together. The extreme is love at first sight and the modern day is “what you can get” defining love.
As I stepped out of my car, Sa’a was also driving in. So I waited for her in the hot sun blaring down my face, fishing for my Gucci shades in my bag, I wore them and walked over to join Sa’a.
We were here because JK had requested we come over to the house for a meeting with the Private Investigator who had told him of some leads but wanted to ask questions to some theories he postulated. So it was basically another boring and senseless questioning session.
I turned to the direction of the sound of a car coming to the driveway and there was Meena’s mother- in- law getting down from the car even before the car came to a halt. We stepped forward and offered a greeting she snubbed.
“That foolish friend of yours with her erratic ways will not be the downfall of my son. She could not give him a male child and has the guts to make trouble. I warned JK but he would not listen now he has to make his bed and lie on it. I hope he has the common sense to start thinking of getting a new wife to replace her fast.”
We both drew a sharp breath unconsciously shocked at the venom in her words. Meena had given us some of the stories of her encounter with the woman and the no love lost between them but we did not know how bad it was.
She looked at us queerly.
“What are you doing here anyway? Your friend no longer lives here so you should not come here anymore, or is one of you hoping to take her place?” She asked with a smug look I wanted to slap off her face should she have been another woman.
We were saved from answering when JK drove in. He was behind the wheels with the driver in the passenger seat.
He came down, handing the key to the driver who now drove the car out to run some errands.
My wayward heart did a somersault at the sight of him. He had grown his beard, although looking unkempt but handsome in a rugged way. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. My heart reached out to him and I reminded myself this was my friend’s husband. I can’t go there. Yes, I hated JK or so I made myself believe. It was my defense mechanism over the years but more from him choosing my friend over me. I had secretly loved JK for as long as I can remember before Meena came into the picture. Meena joked that whatever I wanted I got, what she did not know was the only thing I ever wanted so badly and I never got was hers yet she had willingly thrown him away.
I picked my phone and was surprised to see 20 missed calls. The calls were from JK and Sa’a.
I am surprised and filled with dread simultaneously but placed a quick call to Sa’a who picked the call on the first ring.
“Where have you been?” more an accusation than a question.
“Meena has gone missing. JK is all over the place frantic with calls. He thinks we know something and we are not talking. I have never felt sorrier for him than today. He seems to be losing it.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“Yes, phone switched off.”
“What about the office?”
“She resigned last week.”
That was news to us. Meena never told us she was resigning. The situation definitely had alarm bells ringing in my head.
“We should call her mum. She might know something we don’t,” I suggested.
“I think we should not be hasty in asking her mum.” Sa’a refuted.
“What if the poor woman does not know and causes a heart attack or something worse. We don’t want to be held accountable for an old woman’s death.”
The lawyer brain of mine was going on overdrive.
“Do you know if JK has told her the findings of the private investigator and the result of the DNA test. She probably took off on another Parisian shopping spree.”
“JK has not told her,” Sa’a replied quietly. The full implication of what we were dealing with beginning to unfold.
I felt an instant headache as a result of the dread that engulfed my being. Meena not knowing the real story had probably left town.
“Where are the kids? the questions came so sharply as I tried woefully to hide my rising panic.
“Gone with her, I think because JK mentioned they were not at their grandma’s place.”
I sigh. I must have aged in the last ten minutes of our discussion.
“She is gone. Sa’a. I know it, and I feel it in my bones.”
I am taken back in time to a discussion we had when we were mere teenagers.
It was one of those silly soap opera we watched where a man was unfaithful to his wife. I recollect Meena being so distraught about the way the woman stayed back in the marriage for what was a repeated action.
“You make the mistake of infidelity. I take a walk. It’s like a man lifting his hand on you the first time, and it becomes a pattern where you become his punching bag and perhaps die in the process. He cheats the first time, he will do it again.” I could hear the words of many years ago in my head like she was saying them sitting across me in the room this minute.
“I do remember too, but that was just her view on the TV programme,” Sa’a argued feebly.
“Sadly, It now gives us an insight that it was not just her view, but what she firmly believed in and now in that same position, she is doing what she said at that time. Walk far away. How far? Is what we should be trying to find out.
I closed my eyes and refused to a shed a year. Meena walked away from all her friends and family for nothing, and she would never know unless she came back. I could be one hell of a hard lawyer, but this situation was doing a number on me. I had to keep my head in the right place for everyone all of us. This was going to be a long, long walk.
“Rayuwa!!!! I am off to see JK. We might have to use the same private investigator to find out where she had gone. Talk to you later Sa’a,” I rushed on the phone not before hearing her say, ” I ‘ll meet you there.”
21stcenturybelle 