Nwanyieze's POV~
I can tell there is a battle going on inside him. While he holds me to keep me from turning to look up again at his uncle's corpse on the tree, he is shaking and his heartbeat is erratic. I interpret this as fury, not fear.
I know that Maduka is staring at it and trying to make sense of the situation. He doesn't call out for the three young men. I don't know how long we stand there, him holding me in place and I with my arms around his torso. In the silence, I can hear the young men's footsteps approaching. From the surprised sounds they make, I can tell that Maduka has made them look upwards, and they have seen him.
"Rot in hell, uncle," Maduka whispers.
I squeeze him with my arms. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to keep apologising. None of this is your fault."
"I want this to be over so you can heal. You've been through so much."
Surprisingly, no tears are running down my cheeks this time. It's not because his uncle doesn't deserve to be mourned. Maybe it's because I'm too shocked at the events so far, from last night's episode to today's spectacle.
One of the young men tells Maduka in Igbo that I should be taken away so I don't see when the corpse is being taken down. Maduka whispers to me, " You don't have to be here."
Isn't it funny that I know he just doesn't mean here, the suicide scene, but here, the whole village?
"If you're talking about sending me away-"
"Just come."
I obey and he leads me back to his car. Morning dew glitters on its bonnet, but soon evaporates when he starts the car and the engine heats up. He sits still for a full minute, trying to compose himself.
Maduka fails.
I watch him fold himself, lean forward on the steering wheel, and burst into tears for the second time. The sight is heart breaking.
I get as close as the space between the front seats can allow, and touch his shoulder.
"Cry here." I pull his arm and he immediately turns to me and wraps his arms around me, resting his head on my shoulder. While he cries, I stroke his back. No words, just the sound of his sobs, which finally subside and allows silence to take over for a while. Full daybreak is in place now, with the occasional late bird singing.
"In all this craziness, you are the one solid thing here," he tells me before drawing away from our embrace. His eyes are bloodshot and tired. I reach out and wipe the remaining tears away from his face. "I can't even believe you're still here with me."
"Because of small poison? No na," I reply with a smile.
He smiles back, and it makes me smile more. "Tasha would have left."
"I'm Nwanyieze, not Tasha."
"No name would have suited you better. Nwanyieze. The King's Wife, The Queen."
My name is whispered, before he leans towards me, holding my face gently between his palms, and fastening his lips to mine. This is not a lustful kiss, but a soft one that we share, with me trying to convey comfort and hoping he feels it.
"Stay," he murmurs with every opportunity the parting of our lips give him.
"Yes," I reply.
A silent drive follows. Daa Ndidi approaches our car with quick footsteps, hands on her head.
"Where-" she begins before Maduka cuts her off.
"He's dead."
She peers at his face for any sign of a lie, but sees none. A bloodcurdling scream erupts from her, and I can see Maduka hesitating between consoling her and walking away. It would be so easy for him to transfer his fury to his aunt now that her husband is dead and unable to answer his questions. But he embraces her and she returns it.
"He killed himself, Daa. He hung himself."
"Look at someone I married," she laments. "Ikenna, is this the height?"
Soon, the compound is full of people. Women surround Maduka's aunt, trying to console her. Traditionally, a person who was known to be diabolical or commit suicide isn't mourned. These people are not given proper burials in their compounds, but buried in the forest and forgotten.
Maduka takes my hand and leads me into his bungalow, into the room we share.
"Pack your things, baby girl."
"Are we leaving now?"
"You're leaving."
I sputter in protest, trying to find words, but he cuts me off.
"You're not safe here. I want you away from all of this." He spreads his arms. "My world is crazy right now."
"I don't want you to be alone," I tell him, folding my arms across my chest.
Maduka grips both my shoulders firmly. "There will be loads of meetings, a lot of people in this compound for the next few days. I might not be able to keep my eye on you all the time. And it will make me anxious, and what happened last night-"
I can't help but feel unwanted, like a child who is being sent away.
"Go back to Lagos, to your family. That way I know you're safe."
"When will you be back?" My voice sounds small to my ears. In fact, it sounds needy, a sort of irony to the fact that this relationship will end in Lagos.
"When I'm done with this place. My cousins will have to return once they hear of their father's death. There might be fights, they might blame me for their father's death. Any resentment towards me might be carried out on you; I know how people can be."
"What about you then? Aren't you in danger?"
Maduka smiles. "I'll take care of myself."
"It's not fair." I look down at my feet in my rubber slippers and ankle socks. They are dusty from roaming the bushes last night and this morning.
"I know, but it's necessary. I'll book a ticket today. You should fly to Lagos tomorrow morning."
I nod slowly.
"Hey." He places a finger under my chin and tilts my face upwards. "You know I'm not sending you away because I want to, right?"
Truth is, I want to be here for him through it all. His uncle's death is a new plot twist in his life, and I can tell he is desperately I'm need of answers but can't find them. I want him to come into my arms after a rough day of hashing things out with the elders. I want him in my arms after a day of having to answer questions, speaking until his voice goes hoarse.
But I don't tell him this; I just nod slowly again.
"I'm concerned about your safety."
"I know. I'll go and take a shower now," I reply.
I turn away, search for my towel and shower cap, and leave the room.
The water is cold, as there was not time to boil some water in the kitchen. I undress, put on my shower cap, and step into the shower. At first the water feels extremely cold, but I force myself to stand there and let it flow down my body. Halfway through my bath, Maduka's voice comes from behind the curtain.
"Can I join you?"
Maduka's POV~
"Yes," she answers.
I push the plastic curtain aside and step into the shower. She picks up my sponge, lathers it, and says, "Let me bathe you."
"I'd very much like that."
Nwanyieze begins to scrub my skin, her face a mask of concentration while I watch her every move. Whenever our eyes meet, she looks away quickly, like my gaze is likely to make her lose concentration. When she raises my arm to scrub my armpit, I laugh and she smiles.
"No one ever bathed me after I left here."
"I'm highly honoured," she jokes.
When it's time to go below my waist, she pauses and looks up at me. My face gives nothing away, but I want her to touch me there. With her eyes still on mine, she holds me and gently scrubs. It takes all my energy not to jump. I feel myself harden in her hands, and, surprisingly, she doesn't flinch.
Why would you give me away now? I silently question my body. I clench my jaw and swallow, waiting for her to let go- but she doesn't. I'm powerless in her hold, but I ask her, "What do you want to do?"
A slow stroke from her hand makes my knees weak. She smiles before releasing me.
"You're fortunate today," Nwanyieze says in a voice that makes me wish I was unfortunate enough.
She's not happy about leaving me. The smile on her face might fool someone else, but not me. I know her quite well now.
The next morning, we set out for the airport by nine o'clock. Her flight is in two hours, and I want to avoid traffic. As a Lagosian who has spent countless hours in traffic, it is wise to set out at least two hours before time.
My aunt seems to know of Nwanyieze's departure, although I never told her. She rises from the bench on the veranda. I observe she isn't dressed in black; my uncle has now be labelled diabolical and hence, can't be mourned properly or buried in his compound. But her eyes are swollen from crying, and she looks uncomfortable. I know she is expecting a form of backlash from me for her husband's deeds.
I know she has nothing to do with all this, but a small part of me is fighting this knowledge. After all, she has lived with the murderer of my family for decades. And in his absence, she is the closest person to him- I can't hurt my uncle, but I could choose to hurt her for what I've been through.
I greet her good morning, and she replies wwith a small smile. Nwanyieze is receptive towards her, allowing Daa Ndidi to pull her into a hug.
"I am sorry about yesterday," she tells her in a hoarse voice.
Nwanyieze shakes her head. "None of this was your fault, Daa. I hope to see you next time."
"Ije oma," my aunt says.
Then she turns to me and her eyes immediately fall to the floor. "I am cooking okro soup for lunch."
When I come back from the airport, I will have to sit down with her to discuss. Already, the residents of our village are keeping their distance from her. There are no children running into our compounds with hopes of getting free akara for breakfast today.
"Yes. Thank you."
While I am driving, Nwanyieze voices my struggle.
"It would be so easy to blame her, wouldn't it?"
"Yes."
"Don't, please. She will help mend the relationship between you and your cousins. And she loves you like a son. The way you treat her determines how the village will treat her."
"I'm aware of that."
Nwanyieze sighs. "You sound different today."
I feel different, too. I have become accustomed to her presence, and with all that has happened I know I have to send her away temporarily. We are moving back to reality, where we won't share a bed every night or see each other every day. And there's the issue of Saheed, who is in Lagos where she is going to. And what he told me...
I look over to find her asleep, her face turned towards the window. How could Saheed tell me what he told me, about this person sitting beside me? Shaking my head, I turn on the air conditioner and wind up the glass.
She sleeps through out the car ride, which shows me that she is exhausted, although she never complained. When I wake her up after parking my car at Sam Mbakwe airport, Nwanyieze opens her eyes with a start.
"Just a bad dream," she tells me while rubbing her eyes.
"What was it about?"
"Nothing serious."
"I want to know."
"You left me," is what she says before pushing the passenger door open and stepping out.
"That's ridiculous," I tell her when we are walking towards the check-in counter.
She only shrugs and I stop walking. "What's this all about, now? Is it because I'm insisting you go back to Lagos?"
"You insisted on knowing what my dream was all about."
She has that expressionless look that I don't like. We check in her luggage in about five minutes. I hand her her flight ticket.
The boarding call for her flight comes just as I'm about to ask her what the problem is.
"What did Saheed tell you?" she whispers, ignoring the boarding call.
"Is that the problem?" I question.
No reply from her.
Something is really amiss. Why would she be bothered about what Saheed told me even after I told her I didn't give a damn about it?
"He said you're still into him. And that you promised to leave me for him as soon as you go back to Lagos."
Nwanyieze gives a small laugh, with no trace of humour in it. She pulls my head down for a quick kiss before turning to move towards the metal detector doors. I grab her hand before she can get away.
"I hope I'm not being stupid."
"You're not," she replies before kissing me again, longer this time.
"I'll let you know when I'm in Lagos. We have some things to talk about."
A nod from her, and she briskly walks off, the skirt of her bright yellow dress flowing above her knees. I stand where I can watch her drop her hand bag in a tray, then push it onto the conveyor belt. Today she is wearing no jewellery and so she passes through the metal detector door with ease.
She's going to look back at me, I think with a smile.
She doesn't disappoint me. Nwanyieze looks back at me over her shoulder, and I smile. But my smile dies the moment she is out of sight.
I had wanted a better good bye, a passionate one; but we can't always get what we want, can we?
A/N: Preordained has risen up to #798 in Romance, fam! Thank you all 💖💖