A quick glance at my wall clock revealed it was 11am. “11am? How in the world?” I thought. How in the world did I wake up at this time of the day and on a Saturday? I should have been up long ago, doing some chores and listening to some good music. That was the norm; that was my norm.
The late morning-sun’s rays pierced through various loops between my curtains and window, casting spontaneous light patches upon my shoes, revealing the muds that had stuck on them. It was then the aftermath of yesterday started dawning on me, slowly. Now I remember why I woke up this late – I slept very late. I remember why it was the radio that woke me up.
Last night’s ordeal left me sleepless and worried when I finally got home. I couldn’t get it out of my head and my laptop was out of reach, which made it impossible for me to play myself some choice classical music – that would definitely have been the perfect therapy for my sleeplessness, last night. Classical music serenades me to sleep easily, but then there was nothing I could do about it, which was the reason I reached out to see if I could get some solace from my long abandoned radio set. Poor thing! It must have exhaled deeply when I switched it on last night, thanking its stars for me to have remembered it. The advent of digital technology made easy and portable is fast replacing some of these space-eating gadgets.
I tuned into a unanimous station playing some midnight concoction of jazz, R&B and sentimental music, and stayed on it. The presenter’s voice alone was heaven – deep rich male something that reminded me of my father’s rich baritone voice. I remember vividly now, the last song that was playing on the radio before I slept off. It was Sade Adu’s “Smooth Operator.”
I turned down the volume of the radio set, as I let out a loud, wide yawn. “Goossshhh! The stench! Was that from my mouth? Could this be the smell of fear?” I thought as I grinned to myself and got out of bed. I was very famished and needed to get few things fast that morning, at least to make up for last night’s unscheduled fasting. I reached for my trousers which was lying close to my shoes, checked the pockets and noticed my wallet was not there. The again I remembered I left it together with my laptop at the office yesterday. Slowly, last night’s saga began to replay itself again in my head.
“What if my boss had caught me while I charged towards him in bid to escape? What if that hooded guy had a gun and really meant to harm me? What is the other guy with the hooded guy saw my face before he ran away? What is the owner of the voice that interrupted my frisk with the hooded guy had seen my face? Wait…, what if the owner of that voice that night, had seen my face before I was intercepted by the hooded guy and his friend, and just kept quiet? Good heavens! What if the owner of that voice actually had a tangible clue that could lead to my arrest for murder?” As the thoughts bombarded me, one after the other, I sank back into my bed. Lost in the thoughts of things which I wasn’t anymore sure if they were mere dreams for now, or just a gory awakening to a bizarre reality. My scarcely furnished room was overwhelmed all at once by an unusual silence. My head, I buried in-between my palms, which was supported strongly by my elbows rested to my thighs. Maybe this is just another bad dream I would have to wake up and walk out on pretty soon. What if it isn’t a bad dream? What if this is my reality?
My rumbling stomach thrust me back into reality. I remembered almost immediately that what was left out of the five thousand naira I had withdrawn earlier yesterday as well as my ATM card, were both in my wallet which I left beside my laptop in the office yesterday, whilst fleeing from my boss. “Jeeezzzz! Hunger na bastard!” I muttered.
“What of the bread I bought yesterday’s morning?” I asked myself and almost immediately remembered I left it in the cupboard. As I jumped out of bed to go check it up, I heard a knock on my door. Fear ran through my spine accompanied by a million thoughts. My head flipped towards the door waiting to hear another knock to satisfy my doubts that the first knock wasn’t on my door. I waited for the knock to come again, and it did. This time quicker than the first. My heart pounded like Yoruba women’s pestle pounding yam on a mortar. My head went blank and my whole body went numb for what I guess might have been few seconds, before a child’s voice broke me off the spell.
“Broda! Broda!! Sombori hees looking for you ohhhh! Broda! Broda!!
“Is this it? Have they finally found out? But I didn’t kill him intentionally, it was all in self-defense and I never knew he would die as a result of that,” I thought, as I scampered around trying to put my room a little bit in order. I picked up my muddy shoes, the trouser and the shirt I had worn yesterday and tossed them all into the wardrobe. “I should burn those later,” I thought to myself as I headed towards the door.
Getting to the door I stood for a moment starring at the handle with hesitation. The knock came again, this time very gently. I opened the door and standing there before me was something beautiful and yet so scary.
“I am finished.” It was my boss.
Chukwudi Udoye Eternal
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