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🎆💃CHAPTER SEVEN🕺🎆


He felt like everything that could go wrong that day went wrong. From the Grace throwing a massive pulmonary embolism, to Susan’s arrival (apparently she is Grace’s best friend, a lawyer), her rantings and threats just at the sight of him; to Queen overhearing something that may or may not be the real reason for her not coming for dinner.

Madam Silva didn’t look pleased when he came stag with a bottle of champagne he had bought on his way but passed it off as Queen’s and explained her absence as due to a last minute’s surgery, quelling that primitive fear that his lie must have caused harm requiring the surgical attention only Queen could provide some innocent kid somewhere. He saw the misgivings in her mother’s face, stern look, a tightness in her jaw, and the quick smile it all resolved to the moment her stare left him.

His father seems happy to see him, smiling approvingly and patting him on the back while he intimates him with how the campaign has been going over the meal. Grandma was around, which means the rule of not talking over meals gets thrown out the window for a change, leaving Madam Silva seething at her seat, taking it out on the cook. She muttered something about the Kpomo being too peppery.

“the kpomo is fine, my dear.” Grandma lazily said—not looking pleased by the distraction from her conversation with Dave’s father as she gestured at the tasty hunk of sliced deliciousness, with the glass in her hand. She picked some more into her plate and gestured at Dave to do the same. “dig in hon, don’t be shy.”

He didn’t know Grandma Stella was in Abuja, Madame Silva didn’t mention it, which made him shirk at the thought of Queen unwittingly stepping into what might have looked like a family ambush.

Where Mother was a velociraptor, well, Grandma Stella had quite a reputation to prove that all things being equal, a tree is never far from the proverbial fallen apple. Though that was not the case in all respect on closer understanding of mother and daughter.

Madam Silva smiled at him, that smile when her kind eyes focus on you telling that she had dropped the act that you were invisible. She had finally accepted his lie. “what a shame.” She murmured, this was followed by a long drawn silence Grandma would kindly break.

A question of why he had actually come here for the first time in months dug up the answer clearly in his mind: He was here for one reason and that was that he didn’t trust himself alone elsewhere, possibilities abound, for instance binge drinking and a brawl fight when shit hits the roof. His family kill circle was better, especially now that fortune (or misfortune, depending on whose side you are viewing it from) had spared Queen.

“I really don’t understand why someone as busy as you would want to settle for another surgeon, my son.” Grandma Stella, the yeye oge of Lagos herself commented over a glass of martini. “I told my Richard, to cut down and settle for a desk job if things were going to work, it took a lot of convincing, but he did, things worked.” She raised a glass as if to toast—showing off a ring neither Dave’s parents had agreed to acknowledge—with a mischievous smile that spoke the unspeakable. He had been told to have same smile. Madame Silva shifted uncomfortably. His father looked amused, evidently, at the effect the talk of ‘My Richard’ still had on his wife. Richard is an immigration officer, nearly half the age of Grandma Stella, he’s her boyfriend and they seemed happy despite the disapproval of Madame Silva, who is still hard press that Richard is just a gold digger. From the lush Brazilian hair, the sumptuous painted lips and heavy makeup, to the see-through lace and magnificent gele on her head, Grandma exuded the air of a woman not yet ready to resign to age. She was always fun to be around, though she was rarely around during Dave’s childhood. She had her own business and societal responsibility as the traditional title, yeye oge, dictated, and was rumoured to hate kids. She however, had that free fun-filled spirit that contrast her with Madam Silva’s take-no-hostage, all-business vibes. Madam Silva’s frown followed the diamond ring on Grandma Stella’s hand as she touched Dave’s hand. “you understand, don’t you, oko mi?”

He nodded, “yes maami.” He said, as gravely as a biddable grandson would despite his misgivings. It would be stupidity to say nay to Grandma when neither of his parents could stand up to her. It would ruin the already sour mood.

“Queen seems like a very nice girl.” Madam Silva gently said, alternating looks between him and Grandma Stella. “Her career is quite impressive, what is that research she’s working on again?”

“stem cells, something to do with nerve repair.”

“what she may end up discover might save countless life in the process.”

“and lose her own in the process, hmm.” Grandma Stella grumbled over her cup. She loudly began to say her requirement for a granddaughter in-law: a woman with a great taste in fashion, great hips to accommodate her great grandsons—perhaps hour glass (like a ‘real’ youroba girl), someone with interest in her line of business. “not another lady dowdy of dowrsbury, all wrapped in turtle neck, pimping themselves as feminist, like your aunt Theresa.” She made a face like she might gag.

“I heard she’s in line for chief judge of the federation.” Father said. Grandma Stella made a face and hissed. Of the two daughters she had the one she now still sees eye to eye with is Madame Silva. Aunt Theresa, well respected in the ministry of justice is way past middle age and is yet unmarried. “some might argue that career women make great wives.” He added, smiling amiably at his wife, reaching for her hand.

“And for that sentiment I’m forever grateful my son,” Grandma replied, giving her daughter the side-eye, then smiled happily at Mr Silva, who she’s definitely grateful to for saving Madam Silva from what might have been—in her opinion—a dreadful fate. “starting out, I’d always wanted to have a lot of grown up grandchildren. But in this day and age, beggars can’t be choosers now, can we?” she added with a sour look.

“how is Mr Richard?” Dave asked despite himself, anything to save the table from the ill grudge occupying the seat between mother and daughter.

“Oh,” she smiled evidently pleased that someone was concerned about the (thirty five years old) love of her (seventy one years old) life. “he came with me to Abuja,” she said, “we lodged in Sheraton, beautiful place,” her smile turned to a look of defiance when she turned to face Madame Silva who was most likely the reason she didn’t come with him, “we’ll be leaving tomorrow after a little tour of Abuja.” She winked. Now Dave wanted to gag, but simply nodded and filled her mouth with the nearest piece of meat. Dave’s mother who seemed to have had pepper gone down the wrong pipe, erupted in a fit of cough. “pele o.” Grandma said to her, handing her a glass of water which she gratefully received. Something about the picture amused him, how Grandma Stella’s face suddenly took motherly compassion as she shifted to the seat between and pat her daughter gently at the back, “there.” When all was done, she shifted back to let the grudge take its place on the empty chair between. “My dear,” she said, turning her attention to Dave with a raise of her darkened brow like someone with special wisdom to impart, “whoever you end up with, let her be a lady that makes you feel alive, like you can do anything, someone flexibly in every sense of the word.”

Dave nodded, not knowing what to said to that. “My regards to him.”

The talk shifted to the political issue. Being the yeye oge of Lagos, she had her own pulls on the polls and was willing to lend her support. “I’ll be the mother of a firstlady!” she almost squealed dancing on her seat, and for the first time looked on Madam Silva with something akin to forgiveness for the many grandchildren her career didn’t let her have.

They went on to dessert. When Madame Silva cautioned about the pie containing too much sugar. Grand ma simply told her daughter to ‘chill’. “It’s my diabetes, still I fear your worrying too much about it would give you stress ulcers.”

After the meal, she gave her gele to one of the servants to take to her room, she ran her palms over her heavily hair and asked if father could take her for a walk around the manor. It gave Dave enough time to marinate in his own misery. He was so lost in thought he didn’t realise when Madam Silva left.

He couldn’t unsee the sight of Grace desperately coughing, her lips turning bluish, and she saw it in his eyes, he knew, he was scared, he was lost. He had ran to the chief consultant, Dr Audu, who wanted him to do the surgery, and remove the clot blocking the vessels leaving her lungs, preventing oxygen from reaching her body, she might die. He couldn’t operate on Grace, he realised the moment the man suggested it. Not with his pounding heart, how his head swam, the jitters in his clammy hands.

He had sworn sometimes ago to someone that there really is no one he couldn’t cut when it comes to it, but Grace was the first exception. He couldn’t have cut anyway in the end, not if Dr Audu considered the conflict of interest since his family was responsible for her accident. But it was risk he could have taken anyway, but not with Grace. Dr Audu had done the surgery, and he couldn’t even bear to watch. All he thought about was losing her forever. You don’t feel like that for a patient. He was such a bundle of nerve that he had ran to the chapel and sat, praying. He couldn’t stop thinking of how the O2 sat kept dropping, the thought that she may die, or worse end up a vegetable sickened him, his eyes went misty as he prayed begging God to spare her.

Queen had paged him to tell him that Grace pulled through surgery fine, and that until the anaesthesia wears off, there is no telling if there is any neurological deficit of concern. The look on her face the next time he saw her was telling, she was concerned by how one patient had so much power over him. “you should get off this case.” She advised. He had always been overly concerned about patient care, something that made him good at what he does, but it was over the chart this time. And he wished he didn’t know why, he wished he could honestly feign ignorance and walk away from the memory of it all. Their conversations, the normalcy of it, the reminiscent of fragments of time past when he had fancied himself in love with a naïve girl whose only passion in this world was dancing. Her laughter rang in her ears, like phantoms from another realm. It played over and over, there she was one moment, calm and happy until a fat travelled from her leg to her lungs. Pulmonary embolism is a complication of any fracture of long bones or their repair, but not often do they occur, rarely this sudden and severe.

When he came back to the ICU where the equipment’s have finally found use, monitoring Grace’s vitals, she was on oxygen, and her numbers had improved. Susan was there, seated, head bowed and hands held in prayer pose when he came into the room.

Susan wanted him to get out the moment he caught her attention, and she wasn’t subtle about it. She wanted him off the case as soon as possible and had already discussed with Madame Silva who came over the moment the crisis began, Dave would find later, and her reasons held sway, her threat of lawsuits scared everyone off. The fact that she had been Grace’s legal counsel, she could make decisions for her.

“I’m sorry about all that happened.”

She looked at Grace, scoffed and turned to him laughing while gesturing widely at the room as if asking where apology applies. “you are sorry?” She shook her head, “you are not sorry, not yet, but you will.” She pointed at the door, “I want you out or I’ll call security.”

“I know you are concerned for her, but so am I.” He replied, logic dictated he left the room, but at that moment he was certain he had as much right to be in the room as much as she. Where had she been all these time?

“concerned.” She laughed, a crazed laugh, “concerned?” she asked again like it was some strange word, “you hurt my best friend, and are now trying to play nice?” something the way she said it made Dave’s heart sank, but not so far as to retreat, he’d like to reason with her. “I won’t let you take advantage of her vulnerability, she may not remember, but I know you. And If you love yourself, and your family’s reputation, you would leave.”

“I care about her.” he said, “and whatever had happened, I never intended to hurt her.”

He didn’t know Queen was at the door, or for how long she was there behind him listening…

The clatter of plate as the help packed them brought him to reality of the concluded dinner. Madam Silva was at the screened porch overlooking a large portion of the manor garden, where father and grandma walked leisurely, she held a spiral bound document he guessed from the party logo on the cover had something to do with campaign planning.

“what do you think they are talking about?” he asked, more to distract his thoughts that because he actually cared.

She looked up as if surprised by the question, but Dave saw her focus on the pages book she held the moment he entered. She was spying on them. She relaxed her shoulder in defeat at his knowing smile, “politics stuff.” She said staring at the duo, “she’s telling him about who is who in the Oba of Lagos council, who had what power and what they may want in return. She’s a master at power play.”

“Like someone I know.”

His mother smiled at the compliment, “it’s a necessary skill.” She tapped on the chair nearby as she sipped orange juice and gestured at the cups if he was interested. “I worry she limps somewhat,” she said, “I told her to come for regular check-up, but she’s certain her doctors in Lagos are the best.”

Dave pocketed his hand and walked towards the chair, “it could just be that she’s getting old.”

His mother laughed at first like it was such a ridiculous idea, then her face softens at realization. “she’s the strongest person I know, when our father died she was there for Theresa and I, she fought for our right to inheritance,” She shook his head, dropping the glass cup, “but she drives me nuts.”

“and you are still not okay with the idea of Richard_”

“not your place.” she held her hand, “don’t tell me she’d be nicer if I accept that…” she shook her head as if at loss of the right word to describe her mother’s, his grandmother’s boyfriend!

“she’s in love. He makes him happy.”

“what about you and Queen?” She snapped.

Dave shrugged, suddenly realizing that orange juice wasn’t such a bad idea, he took a long swig. Madam Silva crossed her arms, brows raised, waiting for an answer. “I don’t know.” He sighed, “after all that happened today.”

“I heard.” She said with a note of finality, as if she’d rather not have him go into details.

Silence settled and they returned to spying on her mother and husband.

“I’ve talked with Susan, we discussed a deal I think she favours. Our lawyers are working.” She said, still looking away. “but you’ll stay away from them, we don’t want any more issues now do we?” She sighed, “poor girl. I’m just glad she’s alive.”

“yes,” he wistfully said. “How much is she asking for?” he later asked.

“for her story getting to the press, or for Grace and all she’d have to go through, and cost of recovery?” she bit her lips, “it was a fair deal.” She made a face that told him that was how much she was willing tell him. “just stay away and stop beating yourself for what you could or couldn’t do.”

“did you know?” Dave couldn’t hold back the heavy topic, no one seemed to want to name.

She shifted in her chair, “how was I supposed to know?” she sighed, and placed a hand gently on his knee, “but it’s in the past, and God willing that’s where it would stay.” She called moments later and said without looking at him as if it was a secret she couldn’t be seen divulging, or she just couldn’t bear to look at him thinking of how he got a girl knocked up years ago? “you should have a talk with Queen.”

Grandma told him to visit her in Lagos anytime he’d like, she hinted at having prospects for him at which they all laughed. All in all, it was better having them than being alone tonight. He was about entering his car, which was brought from the park by the chauffeur, when a blue Volvo drove to a stop and out of it came his old friend, Mr Selman’s son, Wright.

He hadn’t seen Wright in years. He looked largely the same, just bigger than he used to remember him. But a lot had changed, they were boys then, now they were men. They had the opportunity to discuss how the past years had been over drinks. Wright enlisted at the academy as his father always wanted, he eventually got into the DSS and had served wherever his country needed him, in whatever capacity. He showed him a horrid snake tattoo he got years earlier as part of his initiation into an area boys group in Lagos, and how he helped bring down their ring.

Dave wrote a name on a piece of paper, a name he got from Angela, the name of the father of the two boys who Angela claimed worked for the Department of State secret service and hadn’t been heard from since his wife died. He couldn’t trust his father with something like this now, he had a lot on his plate already. He had almost forgotten about it. Wright would do. He told himself. But Wright wasn’t going to just run with this without asking how this was Dave’s problem. He went on to explain and tell about how Grace, the girl he partnered with in AFDACO 2009, the girl their car ran into needed that information. Wright nodded solemnly, through his narration. He didn’t look in the least surprised when he told him of how he only discovered that he actually got Grace pregnant, and that the information reared its head in a heated conversation that same day witnessed by Doctor Alex.

Wright was just quiet, his attention slowly diverting to a girl at the counter who glances slyly at him in return, or maybe he was just out of words.

“I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you.” Dave said, calling his attention back to himself, “will you help me?”

“I’ll do my best.” He said, “beside I owe you. Thanks for saving my old man.” Just when it seems he would stand up and approach the girl, he turned to Dave, “they said she had retrograde amnesia?” Dave nodded in reply. “but you didn’t tell her who you are?”

Dave shook his head.

“I hope she gets better.” He said, his tone cold, his expression unreadable. Dave guessed that’s one of the things they teach you at the DSS. For a moment he wondered if there was something Wright knew and wouldn’t spill, but it was a ridiculous idea. “you should let it go.” He said, then emptied his cup, “but as an old friend, I’d advise you tell her your whole side of the story. You are not just the guy who ruined her chance at attaining dreams, yours got crushed too, you never really abandoned her, remember?”

Something clicked in his mind, and he had to ask. “Did you know she was pregnant?”

Wright didn’t say a word. “see you around man.” he later said, and walked away. of course he knew!

“yeah.” He coldly replied. Though he was out of earshot.

The bar buzzed to Dolly Parton’s ‘island in the stream’ as Wright sauntered off, exchanged pleasantries with the girl at the counter then turned to the guy on the next stool who smiled broadly as they exchanged a fist bump.

Dave’s phone rang on getting to his apartment. It was nurse Hannah the kind old OR nurse and she was calling to tell him that Grace was awake and that she seemed to remember her friends and families now.

He then for the umpteenth time he tried to call Queen’s phone, it went into voice mail, and just as during countless times before, he didn’t know what to say. Just like words eluded him in response to her asking, “what was that about?” in regards to the conversation with Susan. He had offered to explained, eventually, but she stopped him, “you know what, I’m pretty busy right now, we’ll talk about this later.” He mutely watched her snatched some patients’ file and stormed out of her office, “and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to dinner today, so…” that was the last thing she said to him. And even then, he didn’t know what to say.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Thanks for reading loves.

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