Breaking The Unseen Nut

Maybe in another life, I would not have to live this life; maybe in another life, I won’t have a memory of this life and I probably won’t even know I once lived; maybe! Just maybe if there was some other life out there after we die. But there’s probably none, because the bible preaches death comes once and after that judgment. But Africans alongside other cultures from different parts of the world do believe in a different life after death, some believe in rebirth which is equivalent to reincarnation, while some believe it’s just you transiting to a different world that is not here, but you’ll be living again in an entire new system. But that’s as far as religion and culture can go. Neither of these culture nor religions can prove the possibility of another life or judgement in itself. Maybe we die once indeed and never live again; or perhaps the cat with nine lives does not refer to an actual cat but humans.

…………………………………………

I sat on the bed in the room Clara had offered to me while I was at her place. It looked cozy, but I fell out. I could not feel what I was seeing. No, I just sat down there deep in thoughts about the previous night and wondering why Clara refused to involve the police and what she did about all those many guest. Could she really shut everyone of those guest up so they do not talk about the incident? How influential could Clara’s family be, so much that she could control not just any crowd, but a wealthy crowd of people of high classes? These thoughts rovered my head like a Ferrari driven in speed and colliding with the headache that kept hitting against my brain.

“You should take these pills and have some food settle in your stomach,” Clara said to me bringing me back to reality. It’s how I did not realise she was in the room with me, I was in my head so much that even though I saw the room, I didn’t notice the presence of another human, not even myself. I was far gone, finding Michael in the space of my head while trying to be a detective on what happened the previous night.

“You should really stop thinking too much Beatrice!”

“In fact, stop thinking at all. Michael was going to sell you anyways,” Clara said. I looked at her and saw her flash a quick smile at me before switching up real quick. Her face now looking stone cold.

“You should be grateful for whatever happened last night and pray Michael never comes back into your life. I am well abreast that he was never your lover, nor your fiance,” Clara said, breaking the nut I thought was unseen. I opened my mouth wanting to speak, but my speech failed me, so I just shut them back up without uttering a word.

“Michael didn’t have a girlfriend, but suddenly turns out to have a fiancee? We’ve been friends for quite some years, I know Michael, so I knew something was off,” she said. I could tell the look in her eyes, it was pity, and as much as I hated being pitied and wanted to hate Clara’s looks, I could not. It only did melt my heart – I craved so much for a hug, so much that I rushed into her, wrapping my arms around her like she was my mother, one I never had. I cried out loud, letting both the tears flow and the pain go. Still, the more I cried, the heavier I felt. It was like I had held unto so much suppressed weight, that I didn’t know which weight I was releasing or maybe by crying I was harbouring more weight than before.

You see, sometimes, crying only makes the weight you carry heavier, leaving you weak and praying for a healer other than yourself.

“Cry it out! Let go of all the hurt in your heart and feel like a new born again. Even though Michael gets found and he is still alive, though he is my friend, I won’t let him get you,” Clara said to me reassuringly. It felt like peace, yet something felt like war in my heart. And the only question that came to mind was if Michael was dead, what will I do?

“You have a call!” someone said from the door post. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, but I did anyways. I did with all the tears that had paraded the lines of my face and made me look like the muddy soil visited by the rain. He had a straight face on. You could barely tell if he even had thoughts of anything going on in his mind. He suddenly looked less than Clara’s brother, and more like a bodyguard. His eyes never met mine, his dark features that looked alluring to me last night from the little glimpse I had of him while he was with Michael had disappeared and has been replaced with curiosity and a little bit of disgust. Curiosity, because I wanted to know who he truly was to Clara and what business deal he had with Michael at the party; Disgust, because of the way he held and questioned me after the whole shooting spree when I was clearly shaken and frightened by the incident. I rolled my eyes at him even though he was not looking, but it could be that he was looking, and I just could not tell.

“How important is it?” Clara asked. From her body language, though her back was turned to me and I could not see her facial expression, I could tell she was not too comfortable with Tony being there with us.

“It’s Baba,” he said. Immediately she took the phone from him and walked out, Tony following her from behind. I just twitched my lips, and made the, “who cares?” gesture with my eyes and hands. Then I got out of the bed, I needed to take the medicine Clara brought for me and then eat the food she had brought along side the medicines. I walked to the sofa in the room and sat on it, the tray carrying both the medicines, food and glass of water was seated on a stool beside the sofa. I picked up the meds after opening the plate of food. It was spaghetti, and from the look of it, I could tell whoever made it did put in a lot of effort. However, I was guessing luck didn’t like my name. I reached for the glass of water but ended up knocking it over, causing the water to pour on the food with the rest of it on the floor. It was a tragic mess, and I knew I had to clean it up. No water to take my meds, and I was having enough of it in the food, well, what a luck! I felt anger and shame, murmuring to myself harsh words that I would not appreciate another saying to me, I headed out of the room. I didn’t know where I was going because the house was not familiar to me, but I knew I needed to find the kitchen or someone to help me find the kitchen and a mop. So I just walked through the corridor looking for an exit.

*Bang* I didn’t need no one to tell me it was someone being slapped when I heard the banging sound. It was coming from one of the rooms that was not quite distant from the one I had slept in. I walked closer wanting to know what was happening, and if it was Clara or something. I thought I could make use of her help or be of help, but my hand stayed glued on the door handle when I heard Tony’s familiar voice.

“You didn’t tell me that this was the plan! You even sent men to attack them at your own party!” Tony’s words felt like they didn’t filter through my ear drums well enough. What was that that he just said? What could he be talking about?

My palms were already sweaty, and my knees weak to the core after hearing what had come out of Tony’s mouth. I could not digest such, perhaps I did not pay proper attention to what he actually said; so I thought, as cold caught up with me, crawling through my skin alongside those sweaty drops.