Forever Mine Chapter Five: The Storm

Twelve years ago…

Guntau residence

Ifako-Ijaiye, Lagos

5:25pm

It was a Saturday. The sky had turned molten grey, cracked with lines of silver and white. The whole city was cocooned in black without warning, and the winds howled songs of an incursion. Nature released her emotions in torrents, the rain spraying on rooftops like a turbulent shower.

Abigail and Zamani were in his room, battling their math homework on the tiled floor. She had come to visit him, but the rain hindered her from leaving. It wouldn’t be much trouble, her aunt was fine with her in Zamani’s home. He was a good boy, responsible and empathic. He was the only boy her aunt would ever permit her to visit.

Ever since her parents passed, her aunt had become overly protective. It had taken months for Abigail to find her smile again. Grief had seized her words for weeks, and rendered her a sobbing mute. Her parents were nothing but kind and loving. Some would even say they were perfect. They deserved to grow old and die in their sleep, fulfilled and surrounded by their grandchildren. Instead, they met a gruesome end; crushed underneath a trailer on the third mainland bridge.

Abigail couldn’t sleep without seeing their faces. Her imagination would force gruesome images of her parents’s limp bodies into her dreams. Their phantom screams plagued her nights for weeks. She couldn’t get into a car without having a panic attack. The slightest sound of a truck’s horn would send her into a fit of pseudo seizures. Neither her aunt nor her cousins could understand the depth of her grief. It had sucked her into a black hole, devoid of light or hope. But Zamani was always there.

He was barely sixteen, yet his presence felt like a warm coat through her cold night. Losing his own parents much earlier, he understood the bottom of the abyss better than anyone. Words were mostly nothing but brushstrokes on an already ruined painting. Silence was the genuine language of the bereaved. So, he would sit next to her in silence throughout his visits, breathing out the air of comfort into her space. He made her know that her grief was his, her pain was his.

He would come over after school to help with chores around the house. He’d help her with homework, and hold her when she cried or got into her panic attacks. He was the brother Abigail never got. He was the friend she could never replace. As far as friendship went, Zamani had her aunt’s blessing.

“What’d you get for number three?” Abigail asked, nibbling away at her pen.

“Uh… thirty kilometers.” Zamani answered, his eyes glued to the textbook.

Abigail pushed herself up with one arm, her expression a mixture of shock and amusement.

“Thirty-what?” She asked again with disbelief in her tone.

“Ummm… yeah?” He replied, uncertainty tainting his former confidence.

“Guy, we’re doing algebra. The question isn’t even about distance. It’s not even part of the options sef. Are you sure we’re doing the same homework?” She said, stifling mocking laughter.

Zamani’s lips twisted to the side, rubbing his face in playful frustration. He realized his mistake and hissed.

“Abeg, maths no be my strong suit jor. You know I’m more of a literature person.” He sighed defeatedly, closing the book.

“It better be, this boy. WAEC is coming. Unless you want to be selling orange and sugarcane when the rest of us are in the University.” Abigail joked.

Zamani frowned, taken aback by her puckish savagery.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked.

“You heard me. You better open that book and finish.” She replied, clucking her tongue with a teasing eye-roll.

“It’s like your mouth is sharp this evening, ba?” He replied, raising an eyebrow. His eyes suddenly glinted with mischief, moving toward her slowly.

“What’s doing this one?” Abigial asked, noticing his predator-like movement. Before she could move, he tackled her. They began to wrestle.

“Oya, talk now. It’s only mouth you have, ba?” He said playfully, overpowering her on the mat.

“Stop, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Abigail squealed, laughing as he tickled her ribs.

The sound of an object crashing in the living room halted their playful tussle. His cousin’s shrilling scream pierced the pensive silence, throwing him off Abigail in a hurry. His uncle’s hostile voice boomed over the storm, bellowing out obscenities.

They exchanged looks of fright, their eyes mirroring peak levels of dread. Ears perked, they heard the sound of glass forcefully shattering and their hearts leapt into their throats. Not again.

They dashed through the door, hurrying down the steps in a frenzy. Reaching the living room, the horrid scene halted their steps. Abigail covered mouth, panic nearly seizing her breath.

Zamani’s cousin was on the carpeted floor, inching backwards from his uncle. He was huge and pot-bellied, wearing a grey singlet that exposed his chest hair. She was trembling, holding her face with one hand, while tearfully using the other to shield her self from the lashes of the bullwhip. Her eyes were full of tears, agonizingly protesting for mercy.

The tall ceramic flower vase that stood at the corner of the room was broken in two. The TV screen had visible cracks on it, it’s damaged display blinking incessantly. The glass centre table was shattered, it’s pieces scattered all over the living room.

“Zarah! Na rantse zan cutar da ku! I will ask you again, why didn’t you come down to meet Alhaji when he came?” He asked menacingly, his massive build towering over her tiny frame. His arm was raised backwards, the bullwhip hungry for her skin again. The other hand loosely held a bottle of local gin.

“Daddy, please…” she whimpered, fidgeting under his drunken gaze. She watched him take a long slug from the bottle, staggering as he did. He sluggishly wiped the trail of liquid from his mouth with his wrist.

“Kawa! dakatar da shi don Allah! Stop this please, Uncle Zubar!” Zamani yelled, his voice strained with deep frustration. It wasn’t the first time his uncle had gone on a drunken rampage. History hadn’t been kind to them in that house. He was sure his other cousins had locked themselves in their rooms. He couldn’t blame them. If he were younger, he would too.

“I will not raise… insurbodinates under my roof.” Zubar seethed, his words drawing with drunken slur.

The girl watched in horror as her ex-military father raised the bullwhip. She curled herself up like a ball, bracing for the impact. The whip cracked heavily against her lower thigh, forcing another agonizing scream out of her.

Zamani’s body moved on its own accord hearing the force of the whip, charging at his uncle with all its might. He launched himself into Zubar’s midsection, spearing his uncle to the ground. The bottle of gin fell to the ground, shattering on impact.

“Zarah! Run!” He screamed, trying to pry the whip off his uncle’s brawny hands. The girl got up hastily, running frantically to the back of the house. Abigial stood transfixed, her eyes unable to look away from the horrifying drama. Her joints had become stiff.

Zubar shoved his nephew forcefully off him, his eyes simmering with rage. He raised himself up with one arm, his incensed gaze fixed on Zamani.

“So, you’re a man now, ba? Yanzu kai namiji ne ko?” He seethed, using the chair to help his drunken frame up.

Zamani got up quickly, but the courage in his body was gone, fleeing at the sight of his uncle’s hellish glare. His heart began to crash against his chest, the feelings of trepidation surrounding him. He looked at Abigail, fright written all over his face. He couldn’t move, too frozen by fear.

Zubar staggered to his feet, throwing the whip on the floor. He smiled sinisterly at the audacity of the teenager. Today was the day he would learn respect. He rushed toward his nephew in an instant, swinging his knuckled fist with malice.

The fist cracked hard across Zamani’s face, snapping his head back with force. His head reeled in, his body falling limp on the floor. The metallic taste of blood swarmed his mouth.

“Zamani!” Abigail screamed, her body paralyzed by the sound of the blow. She fell back against the stair railing, her mouth quivering in shock.

Zubar straddled on-top of his nephew’s body, recoiling his clenched fist over it. He crashed the fist against his nephew’s face, knocking the boy out cold. He did it again, and again.

Abigail’s screams remained in her throat, her chest heaving uncontrollably. She watched Zubar get up and fix his murderous gaze on her. Her heart raced, her mind stuttering incoherently.

“This is the last time I see you with him. Never come back here again.” Zubar heaved, his lips twisting into a scowl. He took one last long look at his nephew then stepped over his limp frame. Abigail shut her eyes, holding her breath as he walked past her. She didn’t flinch until he was up the stairs.

The moment he was out of sight, she ran and collapsed near Zamani, holding his head in her arms.

“Zamani? Zamani, please! Oh, God! Please! Just, please…” she cried, her words tumbling over each other. The thought of losing him made her insides quake. She hurriedly pulled out her phone, dialing the emergency number.

~~~~~~~

Back at the Manor…

Abigail sauntered into the bedroom, struggling to keep her raging emotions at bay. She threw her purse on the king-sized bed, the events of the past hour still fresh in her head. How could Jacob speak to her that way? He had no right. No matter what, mutual respect was the bedrock their marriage was built on. He violated their code, and infront of people at that. She fumed.

Jacob walked into the room, catching his wife pacing around. He let out a deflating sigh, shutting the door behind him. The air was tense, and it was about to get even thicker. He moved toward her, slowly unbuttoning his suit.

“Abby, I-“

“What the heck was that?” Abigail snapped, running a finger through her hair. He could see the fury in his wife’s eyes, but her tone made his own temper rise again.

“What do you mean?” Jacob replied, his eyes narrowing.

“What was that all about? Why did you act out like that?” She asked, pointing towards the window as though the café were just outside.

“How can you ask me that, Abby? How else do you expect me to react? How can I walk in planning to surprise you with a lunch date, and catch you holding hands with that-that-“ Jacob stuttered, anger stifling his coherent line of thought.

“His name is Zamani.” Abigial shot back, anger lurking beneath her tone.

“I don’t care what his name is! The question is, why was he around you? What was he doing holding your hand?!” Jacob asked, his voice rising.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Abigail asked, feeling rage claw at the helms of her self-control.

“You’ve not answered the question, Abby. What was he doing in that café? How did he find you? What was he doing holding your hand?” Jacob badgered, his jaw stiffening.

“I would tell you if you’d just calm down!” Abigail seethed, rubbing her temples in exasperation.

There was a small pause. Jacob leaned back, realizing how harsh his tone had become. He raised his hands and took a step back.

“Fine. I’ll calm down.” Jacob replied, seating on the edge of the bed. He clasped his hands, patiently waiting for an explanation.

“Look, Jacob. Meeting him today… was just an innocent coincidence.” She lied. Conviction pounced on her heart the moment those words left her mouth. She bit her lower lip, feeling the immense unease in her spirit. But there was no way she could tell him that Zamani had stalked her, she just couldn’t.

“Don’t lie to me, Abby.” Jacob said, his hardened gaze fixed on the carpet. He knew it was a lie, it was too obvious to him.

“But I’m not-“ she stuttered.

“Just stop it!” Jacob yelled, rising from the bed. He was incensed. “Why do you feel the need to lie to me? Are you a child? Are you hiding something?!”

Strike one.

Abigail’s face hardened again, deeply offended by his lack of trust. She folded her arms, her stance oozing defiance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked darkly. Her tone was deathly calm.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” He replied.

“Look, we talked things out and we have decided to become friends again..” She explained.

Jacob’s face softened abruptly, his incensed look replaced with utter disbelief. He tilted his head, squinting his eyes in confusion.

“What do you mean ‘you talked things out?’” He asked.

“Look, I know it sounds-“

“No. I don’t think you have the slightest idea how it sounds. This is the same freaking guy that wasted your years, drew you into all manner of vices and kept you stagnant for so long. What do you mean you ‘talked things out’?” Jacob asked, throwing his hands frantically in exasperation.

“He’s changed, okay?! He’s not the same guy anymore. I mean, he’s clean now. He’s got a job and-“

“-And you believe him? For God’s sake, Abby! You cannot be this naive?!”

Naïve. Strike two.

“I need you to think about this, Abby! Isn’t all this a little too convenient? The meeting in France, and now this? For God’s sake, have you no discernment, this woman?”

Strike three.

Abigail turned to him, her lips quivering in anger. The restraints on her self-control had loosened.

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe that he’s different?” She seethed, her fingers digging deep into her palms.

“Because I know he hasn’t! Come on, Abby. Wake up! I don’t need an Angel to appear to me before I can see through this cheap charade! Simple discernment can tell you-“

“Oh, please! Don’t parade your insecure suspicions for discernment.” Abigail retorted, waving him off angrily.

Insecure.

Jacob leaned back, tightening his chiseled jaw-line. He looked into her eyes, his emotions unhidden.

“Alright. So, I’m insecure now?” He asked, shooting her a hurt look. Abigail wasn’t moved.

“Well, you’re clearly acting like it. What’re you really afraid of, Jacob?” Abigail asked. The room went silent for a while, their intense glares heating up the place.

“I don’t trust him…” Jacob said quietly, turning away.

“Well, I do.” Abigail retorted, determined to stand up for her friend. She had forsaken him once, she would never do it again.

“You don’t need to trust him, Jacob. You just need to trust me. Is that too much to ask?” Abigail asked, spreading her arms.

“This isn’t an issue of trust, Abby. You can’t hang around a ticking bomb because it hasn’t blown yet. We don’t put confidence in our flesh. I mean, you’re already lying about how he found you at the café! You’ve spent barely an hour with him and he’s already influenced you this much. I’m telling you, this guy is bad news.”

Abigail’s arms dropped, shaking her head in disbelief. “How can you judge him so much. You haven’t even had a single conversation with him. You don’t even know half of the things he’s been through. You don’t even care to know what-“

“Look, I’m sorry about the things he’s been through. I cannot begin to imagine the pain he’s had all his life, okay? But that’s where it ends. Sympathy. He’s got no business with you, or us. I don’t want you around him anymore and that’s final, okay?” Jacob said finally, his tone firm.

Abigail looked at him, almost like she didn’t recognize him. When did he become so hard-hearted? What happened to her loving husband, the one who would always choose to believe the best in people? He sounded like an unreasonable judge, passing verdicts without knowledge or pity. When had he become so authoritative? The sound of his domineering tone made her blood boil.

“No.” Abigail said defiantly, the screw in her head loosening. Her countenance had darkened fully, enraged by his lack of empathy.

Jacob saw the fierce look in his wife’s eyes. He had only seen that look twice in his marriage. The last time he saw that look, she went three days without speaking to him. But he couldn’t shake off the dreadful feeling he had about Zamani. Those hazel eyes were like staring into a dying sun. They were filled with something dark, something ominously evil. If being firm this one time would save their marriage from future pain, it was the sacrifice he was willing to make.

“What do you mean, no?” He asked tersely, his body stiffening.

“You heard me. I made a promise that I wouldn’t walk out on him again. I intend to keep that promise.” Abigail said coldly, her eyes daring him to say something else. He was on thin ice.

Jacob matched her icy glare, unmoved by the threat it carried. A deadly frost set into the room.

“Listen to me. I don’t care if you entered a blood covenant with him. You’re never seeing him again.” He said firmly.

Abigail let out a small laugh, folding her arms. “And what makes you think you can tell me what to do? What gives you that impression?”

“Because I’m the head of this home…”

Abigail lowered her head, a scornful smile forming. She walked toward him slowly, the venomous words pouring into her mouth. She raised her head, her face inches from his.

“You can be the head of the angels for all I care. I’m never going to abandon my friend again. I’m going to stand by him, and there’s nothing you or anyone can do about it. If you don’t like it, you can go to hell.” She said coldly.

Abigail walked off, slamming the door behind her forcefully. Jacob stood transfixed, mouth agape, her last words tearing at his heart like a rabid animal. He looked to the ground, as though it held some kind of explanation. His wife had told him to go to hell, over another man. He slumped on the bed, his face covered in disbelief. What had just happened?

~~~~~~~~

St. Andrew’s Cathedral

Ikeja, Lagos Mainland

6:30pm

The sanctuary was an ancient monument in the city, raised in the previous century by the early missionaries during the colonial era. It’s sturdy architecture towered toward the city’s skyline, the sound of its bell ringing through the landscape.

The nave was full of empty wooden pews, except the few elderly folk that had come for the Choir’s recital. The color-stained glass windows offered the room a sober glow. A few heads were bowed in solemn reverence, the air dense with the incense of silent prayers. The orthodox choir were rendering the soulful antiphony of sacred hearts – Ubi Caritas. Their gentle tones conveyed the reverence in their hearts. Their glorious symphony drowned the sanctuary in quiet bliss.

Jacob sat on one of the long wooden pews, hands clasped in silence, eyes full of painful dolor. He came here when he felt lost. It was his parents’ church. It held many precious memories, drowning him in the sea of painful nostalgia. It was like a second home to him, a place where he felt close to his late father, and talked with his Heavenly One.

He was done with work, but his home was the last place he wanted to be. Abigail hadn’t said a word to him in five days. There was no air in his home. Their affection had grown cold.

He looked up, his pained gaze toward the Sacred Altar. The lancet glass windows above had the fresco of The Good Shepherd, delicately holding a lamb in His hands. Another fragment showed the Last Supper, the Messiah offering bread and wine to His disciples. The images drowned his heart in silent epiphany. God was here.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven…” he began to pray.

“My son, who art in Me…” the Lord breathed within him, his heavy heart engulfed in peaceful embers. He felt the Lord’s peace shroud his bleeding heart.

Jacob exhaled, feeling the warmth of the Lord’s presence around him. He shut his eyes, preparing the words of his supplication.

“Father, I’m overcome with anger, pain and jealousy. I can feel my heart breaking, and this evil day has besieged me. Help me, because my strength is small.” He muttered, the tears forcing their way through. The image of his wife appeared in his thoughts, the memory of her cold attitude heightening the pain in his heart.

“Help me, Father. Help me see beyond my anger. Help me act beyond my jealousy. I let the sun go down on my rage, and now a storm has come into my home…” he continued, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

“I am your strength in your weakness. I am your peace in any storm…” the Lord echoed.

Jacob raised his head, his vision blurring with tears. How could she effortlessly go this long without speaking to him? He understood that he may have crossed lines, but this was extreme. She acted like he was invisible, like he didn’t exist. His words were often met with a stony expression, his touch with a flicker of irritation.

He blamed himself for pushing her over the edge. Abigail was not the type to mess with. He knew the kind of person she was before they got married. He was grateful for the major progress she had made in God, but some things still lingered. Her anger often blazed like summer’s heat, and her malice was the spitting image of winterfell- cold as the north.

Nevertheless, it was his fault. He was unkind. He was hot-headed, driven by the oars of his own jealousy. He grimaced, remembering the harsh words he had used during the argument. How could he have acted so shamefully? Where was his tact? He lowered his head, asking the Lord for mercy and wisdom. The Lord responded with scriptures in his heart.

“…Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice; and be ye kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you…”

“….If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good…”

Jacob nodded, his heart fully instructed. He was going to make peace with his wife, no matter what. However, the elephant in the room remained. His peaceful heart became anxious again.

“Lord, what about him?” Jacob inquired. His eyes narrowed, hearing the Lord’s reply.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Okay, it’s getting hotter. But you’re not ready for the next chapter. It’s a promise🙃. Thoughts on this chapter? Please leave a comment👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾

It only gets hotter from here. Stay tuned!😊😁