Twain Became One

CHAPTER 11: Silence

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Pamela

 "Iyaaa mi, iyaaa mi (my mother), (my mother)" Faith cried loudly, she had a three year old boy in her arms who looked withdrawn probably not understanding the reason for his moms tears. 

We spent almost three hours at the hospital waiting for her.

She was Mrs Anjola, the woman we helped that died, only daughter. Mrs Anjola had 4 children; 3 boys and a girl. The eldest was abroad and hasn't visited or called home in the last ten years, the other was in prison and the last male child in Ahmadu Bello University studying law. Faith who was the youngest attended Kwara state university. Their father was a Dangote truck driver from Kaduna who was late.
She had narrated it all to us when she reached the hospital that evening, wondering how she was going to pay the hospital bills. When she heard that Chris settled them she started another fresh bout of tears and it tugged my heart that she was an orphan.

I wasn’t a stranger to loss but to have no parents at all was a fate I wished on no one.

Death truly is a terrible thief.

"Ah iyaami you can't leave me too, who will take care of  me now? She wailed over and over.

Mr CEO was hugging her tightly, I knew his name but to think of him on name basis means I acknowledged his existence.

It never gets easier breaking the news of a loved ones death to their family member or being around to see their hopes crumble.  I could still hear Faiths cry even though I now stood outside the morgue. 

Mr CEO hugged her a bit too tight and she clung to his shirt as a lifeline.  My heart skipped a tiny bit. I know he was consoling her, for death was messy but inevitable. We must all die one way or the other, but must he hold her so close?

"Shhheeeeesh snap out of it, you sound like a jealous lover" I chastised myself muttering the words to myself so that it could sink.

"Miss let's go," Mr CEO said. His voice stood out in the dim night. His voice was clear; not as deep as most males, a rich bass, smooth and hard at the same time. He was usually cold and closed off and for the first time since all the random meets fates been throwing our way, I saw sadness in his eyes. I wanted to look away, but those eyes were compelling.

He was staring at me strangely also, then he urged, "Come on, the driver has brought the car around."

It must be the emotional feels of the day or the fact that he looked sad made me see him as a human. I was telling him my name even though I was sure he knew it already "Pamela," I answered quickly my voice almost a whisper before I changed my mind.

"Pardon?’  He asked confused.

"My name is Pamela Williams." Immediately it rolled off my tongue it sounded stupid that I was even telling him but since it was out there I couldn’t take it back.

He smirked. Not a grin or a smile just a stupid arrogant smirk that messed up his features in a way I really liked, then muttered "Oh alright."

That was all he said, as he opened the door for me like a gentleman which he was not.

I just told him my name, and all he said was 'oh', as if I stated the obvious. In his defense it was an old information but the least he could do was to be more original than that.

Earlier while rushing to the hospital, I was too busy with Mrs Anjola to rate the cars interiors. I loved cars, the smell of pure leather seats, the power behind your hand when you hold the gear it was pure magic. I looked carefully now, trying to observe as much as I could about the ice machine that sat in front, leaving me and Faith at the back.