Thirty-Two

Chris gets out of the taxi and pays off the driver.

He takes a deep shuddering breath for the umpteenth time as he stands and surveys Effe's residence. The image of Steve's hand all over Effe, his lips on hers, comes back to haunt him. He grits his teeth and his hands ball up into massive fists. He is so jealous and in so much pain that he feels a deep ache in his head like a migraine.

The security men recognize him this time, and they radio the house. A moment later, the bolts are drawn back and the small gate opens. Chris enters the compound, and soon the main doors are opened by Ken Kedem.

"Hello, Chris. We haven't met since you came back. You are welcome," Ken Kedem says with a smile.

He pumps Chris' hand effusively.

"Thank you, sir," Chris replies.

They exchange a few pleasantries as Chris follows him to the living-room. Ken Kedem is watching the GojuFist fight live on television, and when they enter Chris looks on the screen and sees the cameras zooming in on an elated Mike Crankson.

"Crankson knocked Wailer Vroom out. Third round..., they're showing the replay of the final knock down again. See!" Ken says dejectedly.

On the screen, Wailer Vroom, shorter but powerfully built, is advancing on Mike Crankson, who is bobbing around with a contemptuous grin on his face, making no attempt to cover up. Wailer suddenly throws a straight right, but Crankson is leaping into the air, turning in mid-air as his right foot comes around in a vicious turning kick that catches Wailer Vroom flush on the temple.

The older man wobbles and he begins to go down, already out of the fight. Chris watches, sick to his stomach, as Crankson steps in and delivers a cruel blow into Vroom's kidneys. The older man's mouth opens in a cry of pain, his eyes almost popping out of his head as he crashes helplessly to the canvas.

"I was backing Wailer. That Crankson is a cruel man. Someone needs to put him down!" Ken says, shaking his head sadly.

"He's younger, stronger, faster, and more skilled. Wailer is old. I wonder why he took the fight in the first place," Chris says.

"Wailer owns the IRON FIST GOJU CLAN," Ken explains. "He introduced Crankson and trained him. Crankson used to fight for the IRON FIST, until Afful lured him away."

"I see. So, Wailer wanted to prove a point, and got badly beaten."

On the screen Afful and Steve and some other men are standing behind a jubilant Crankson. The camera zooms in on Crankson as a fight interviewer thrusts a microphone into his face.

"Wow! Wonderful! Amazing! Incredible! That turning kick was quite a beauty, Mike!" the ring interviewer says excitedly.

Crankson laughs excitedly.

"Vroom is old and as slow as a pregnant tortoise. He should stick to being a trainer. It was an insult for him to come up against me!" Crankson says with a wolfish expression on his face.

"You're now undefeated in ten title defense fights, Mike. You have equaled the record held by Chris Bawa. Any takes on that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've got takes on that alright. I've heard people saying that Chris is the best, you know," Crankson says with a chuckle. "That's crap. In his time the fighters were old and inexperienced. I'm tired of hearing dogpile about him being the all-time. Know what, I saw him in the corridor before entering the ring. I told him he has the option to meet me in a fight!"

There is an excited uproar from the audience. Ken Kedem looks at Chris suddenly.

"Heeeey!!" the interviewer screams. "You don't mean it!"

Jonathan Afful steps forward with a plastic smile on his face.

"No, no, no! The champion does not mean it!" Afful screams with a fake smile on his face as his eyes send distress signals to Mike.

"What do you mean by I don't mean it? You think I'm scared of that dude? I want Chris Bawa!" Crankson says, sounding angry. "He has ten undefeated title defenses, and I have ten now. This is the time to find out who's the all-time greatest. He's out of prison. Make that fight happen!"

"Come on, Mike. That fight will never happen," Afful utters with a strained smile.

Mike Crankson snatches the microphone from the interviewer and approaches the ring. He shouts loudly into the microphone.

"DO YOU WANT TO SEE ME FIGHT CHRIS BAWA?"

"YESSSSS! YESSSS! YESSSS!" the crowd booms in a massive voluminous explosion that shakes the auditorium. Crankson smiles and looks straight into the television cameras, and his face is zoomed in, and now it seems he is speaking directly to Chris through the television.

"Chris Bawa! Are you watching and listening? Are you man enough to face me in the ring? Come and let me show you how real men do it! If you stay away then we'll all know you're just a coward!" Crankson says.

Chris turns away from the television.

"Chris? Are you going to take him on?" Ken asks expectantly.

Chris shakes his head.

"No, sir. I'm retired."

"That's guy is saucy, arrogant and a downright imbecile," Ken Kedem says with feeling. "He has no respect for anybody. You can take him down a peg or two, you know."

"No. It's over for me, sir," Chris replies resignedly. "Please, where is Junior?"

"Oh, yes. Come with me. He went to his room, giving me orders to call him as soon as you got here."

They both laugh as they ascend the stairs and enter Junior's room and find him asleep. Chris leans against the door and looks at his son, and a deep love spreads over his pained face.

"He fell asleep. It is late. Best not to wake him up. I'll see him tomorrow," Chris says, sounding disappointed.

"No, no, Chris. That boy wanted to see you. He said even if he's asleep I should wake him up. I came to baby-sit. I'll wait a little while for Effe, and then I'll leave. You stay and baby-sit for a while too. I'm too old for stunts like this anyway."

Junior suddenly opens his eyes and turns over, yawns sleepily and rubs his eyes.

"Daddishh," he mutters sleepily.

Chris moves forward.

"I'm here, Champ," Chris says tenderly.

With an effort, Junior sits up. He reaches under his pillow and brings out a little box wrapped in gift paper and holds it out towards his father.

"I called you early in the morning. I even told Mommy to send me over to your place, but you were not around."

"Sorry, Champ. I went out for a while. My phone was off. But what is that? Is it a gift?"

"I wanted to give it to you in the morning," Junior says, smiling sleepily. "That was why I was calling. Happy birthday, Daddy."

Chris stops suddenly, stunned.

"What's today's date?"

"Third of May, Daddy. Your birthday."

"Damn. Indeed, it is!" Chris utters softly.

Five years in prison and he never celebrated his birthday in any of those years. No one came to him, and no one reminded him. He has almost totally forgotten about his own birthday. It seems everybody has forgotten about his birthday this year too. But not Junior. No, not his son. He has never forgotten.

Ken Kedem sees the hint of tears in Chris' eyes. He feels Chris' passion as the big man sits down on the edge of the bed and takes the gift from the little boy. He unwraps it, and sees a black box inside. He opens the box, reaches in and takes out a beautiful silver watch.

"I was the first in my class, Daddy. I got hundred percent in all subjects except English and Twi. Mr. Abbiw, the headteacher, said he would give me a prize, but I told him my Daddy's birthday is coming up, and I needed a gift for him. So, he took me out and I selected that watch and he paid for it. I hope you like it Daddy."

Ken Kedem watches as the man silently slips the watch across his wrist, and he sighs quaveringly when Chris takes his son in his arms and kisses him on his forehead, and then he buries his face in his son's shoulder.

"Thank you, Champ. I adore it!" Chris says passionately.

"I love you, Daddy."

Chris tries to speak, but his emotions are choking him, and so he just holds his son tighter. Ken Kedem, overcome by the blast of pity and passion assailing him, goes out quietly and shuts the door behind him.