Best served cold..episode 7
Gboye simply vanished into thin air like the doomed Malaysian Airline. There was no report of his whereabouts. I remained in the hospital after I came around from my induced coma. Nonso had explained to us that they were on the way to Church from Gboye’s apartment which was about one hour from the church and there was sometimes traffic on the road even on a Saturday morning, so they left early so as not to be late for church. They had barely driven out of the Estate where Gboye lived when a light green Toyota Sienna swerved in front of their car; they had no choice but to stop. While they were wondering what was going on, three men alighted from the car wielding guns and other dangerous weapons especially one blood thirsty looking cutlass. They ordered them out of the car, simply instructed Gboye to enter into the Sienna and drove off. My misery started with his absence. I was at the hospital for three days before being discharged. The doctor warned me to watch my health, my body was not strong enough for the emotional pressure it was under, and it was not good for the baby.
My day of joy turned to a mourning and sympathy spree. Droves of friends, family members and acquaintances came over on a daily basis to console me and ask the progress made on the investigation by the Police. There was actually no progress made by the Police, they did make efforts and were serious about it. It was even surprising they didn’t ask for money from Dad who went as far as hiring a private investigator. The Investigator, one Major Okon who had left the army to set up his private establishment boasted so much about his abilities and links with all military and criminal undergrounds in Nigeria that one would think he would resurface my lost lover under 24 hours. Months passed without any good news from him. He was so expensive I told Dad to let him go but trust my old man, he never gave up. As usual, contrary to my advice, Major’s services were retained. I was irritated each time he visited. He always repeated the same thing. The search for the kidnappers was ongoing, he had sent his boys to all the kidnapping kingpins and they were on the lookout for them. Nonso gave a description of the kidnappers and Major Okon’s firm made a sketch with which they conducted their rescue mission. He dragged himself with his big tummy to the house one morning after three months of investigation. He told us his effort had yielded no success; the underground as he fondly called the kidnapping cartel in Nigeria had no profile on the kidnappers. He swore he was sure they weren’t kidnappers. Dad told him to keep searching. I thought to say no but my opinion won’t be regarded. I watched silently as Dad wrote a cheque of three million naira, the third since Major was hired. The former military man beamed with smiles as he left. You could sense a man who felt he was being paid for doing nothing but doesn’t care for the world.
The baby in me was by this time about five months old. The scan showed it was a baby boy. I named him Olagboye Junior after his missing father. However, I spent my days doing nothing except to think of the fatherlessness of my baby boy. I was often sad, happiness was a rare commodity. Gloom became my every day companion. I as well became a constant visitor to my Family Doctor. He became so worried he came over to the house every week to check me up.
‘Nike, please cheer up. Stress is a silent disease especially for a pregnant woman’ Doctor Makinwa always said. He drummed it into my ears but I just couldn’t cheer up despite all attempts at such by dad and other friends. I was told one of my ‘friends’ even asked what was wrong with me. She wondered if I was the only person who lost her man. But she couldn’t understand. Abandonment is a big issue for me and if not for Dad I wouldn’t have survived Mum’s death. Depression was going to take me to the early grave. But he stood by me and he was standing by me again. Gboye’s mum also rarely left my side. Wonderful woman, may God bless her soul. She moaned for her lost son, I moaned for my lost lover. We were partners in the mourner’s department but she stayed strong for me.
34 weeks into my pregnancy, I went into pre-term labour. I was in labour for three hours but my baby didn’t come. I overheard the Doctor telling Dad the pre-term labour was because of the psychological stress I subjected myself to. Eventually, he was brought out through a caesarian section. My joy knew no bounds as I held the tender hands in my own for a brief moment before he was returned to the incubators. He looked so beautiful, a carbon copy of Gboye.
‘He’s indeed Olagboye’ a happy dad said. It’s been ages since I saw such radiance on Dad’s face. I looked at him as he sat on the edge of my bed, he was glowing. I was glad the birth of Olagboye brought him such joy. The last time he was that bright was when mum was alive. I realized how much pains he had gone through over the years. I felt bad I contributed further to it with my erratic mood and I began to understand why he was over-protective. He could not afford to lose me. I lifted my hand weakly and rubbed his hair noticing the many grey strands in it; He was only 52. I told myself I was the major cause of the grey hairs.
Still ruffling his hairs and with tears in my eyes I softly said ‘Dad, I am sorry for all the troubles I have caused you. I love you so much. What would I have done without you?
‘Shhhh, be quiet. Doc said you need to rest’ he replied gently placing a finger on my lips. ‘Oh yeah, I forgot he said I should see him in his office. I will be back soon Mama Olagboye. He smiled and left.
He left for the Doctor’s office smiling so beautifully only to receive news which disrupted the flow of his new found happiness……
Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.