All It Takes

5.

"Mum? Mum? Mum." Gabrielle called.

Her mum eyed her warily.

"Hello."

"Hello, mother."

"What time will you be home?"

"6:30, mother. Would you like me to bring you anything?"

"Nothing, my dear. I just want to see you."

"Okay. Are you at yours or mine?"

"Yours, John." She replied, satisfied. John called Gracie mother and it was one of the things she cherished the  most about her son-in-law. He loved her and she loved him. Their relationship was one of a kind.

Gabrielle sat at one edge of the couch in the living room trying to give her mother the puppy dog eyes after trying in vain to get her mother to speak to her. Her mother simply glanced at her occasionally and looked away. She really wasn't having it this time. Gabby didn't know what to do. John was surely going to be on her mother's side and they'll scold her together like an errant child.

As Gabby got up to fetch her mother a cup of water, Gracie heard the humming of John's car and quickly ran out before Gabby got back from the kitchen. She wanted to get a head start before Gabby interrupted or dissuaded her.

"John, my dear. How are you? How was your day? How was work?" She asked in rapid successions just as John stepped out of his car.

She had missed him. He used to visit her often but as time passed his business demanded more of him and she saw less of him. However, he still reached out often and that warmed her heart. She had found the son she always wanted in him and he, a mother who has time. Not that he blamed his mother for her absence from a huge part of his life- they would probably have starved to death otherwise- but he still wondered what it would have been like; he had seen Tariba, his neighbor's mother, more often than he saw his.

He blinked severally, smiling. "I'm very well, thank you, mother. My day was good. Work was fine." He answered, giving her a quick peck on her left cheek. "How are you?"

"Peachy, son." She said casting a glance at Gabby as she approached them tentatively, picking her steps one after the other.

John looked between the both of them. Gabby had definitely done something wrong, judging by the tension surrounding them.  It was so palpable it could be sliced with a blunt knife.

"Let's go inside." The air was cold and crisp but all John needed was a warm bath, but it seemed like that would have to wait. His mother-in-law meant business and it showed in her stance and wafted of her in waves.

They all say down in the sitting room and Gracie hit the nail on the head immediately. "Gabby hasn't been taking good care of my grandchild. I do not understand what else she needs to be convinced that this pregnancy is very fragile and requires more than a hundred percent care and attention."

John glanced at Gabby who sat in the recliner to his right looking anywhere but at him. Guilty as charged. He looked more closely, scrutinizing her face now for the first time since the week started. His wife looked a bit leaner and had not so subtle bags beneath her eyes. His beautiful Gabrielle shouldn't look like that. She must have been stressed. Suddenly, he became angry at himself for not noticing earlier. He should never have been so busy as to not notice that his wife was so stressed. She didn't need that. Their baby didn't need that.

"We're sorry, mum. It was my fault, too. If I hadn't been so caught up with work I would have payed more attention." John apologised, solemnly. "It won't happen again."

"I believe you. I don't mean to be so hard on you. But it is necessary at a time like this. We need to be extra careful!" She said after a while.

"I hope you have bought baby things, your due date is rather near." She continued getting rather excited as her spirits were gradually lifting.

"Oh mother! I have been buying baby things for years now." Gabby replied relieved and grateful John had managed to calm her down.

                              °•°•°•°

"You look like a sight! Where have you been?" Questioned the young woman carefully. But the the other woman, the older woman, stared back at her with wide unseeing eyes. She looked like the living dead.

The longer the younger woman stared the creepier the encounter got. She stood up to leave and the unexpected happened. As she turned to grab her bag from the bedside table the old woman grabbed her hand with such a firm grip that it hurt. For someone who hasn't used her hands in years, her hold was really strong. The younger woman paled while trying to release herself from the unexpected clutches. Her cinnamon coloured skin was turning rather yellow around her wrist as blood circulation was being cut off by the woman.

She knew. She knew she shouldn't have come here but she came anyway. Now she had only herself to blame if she didn't make it out alive. Struggling even more she looked around frantically in hopes that she'd get and idea, or a temporary weapon maybe, to flee, but she came up blank. Then she looked at the woman again. If she had been a second too late she might have missed the tears that peeked out of her sunken eyes and made a run for her wrinkled ear, as if on fire. She didn't know the woman could cry.

After this new discovery, she stopped struggling and the woman's grip lessened no less than the frightened young woman could change her mind and make a run for it.

She sat back down on the chair by the bedside and looked into the woman's eyes. The might be trying to tell her something.

"Tell me. What is wrong? What happened to you?"

But the tears kept flowing causing her sickly frame to shake vigorously. The younger woman just sat still, watching. Waiting.

"I can help you."

With the little strength she had left she released the woman's wrist and pointed at the window.

The younger woman thought she wanted her to bring something. So she went to the window and started to search for nothing in particular. There was nothing at the window. What could she be trying to tell her? Maybe she was seeing things. She felt herself a fool for even attempting. For hoping that there was something she could find out.

She looked back at the woman who's skin looked white and chipped and her stomach turned and churned her lunch. Her appearance was getting worse by the day. The pores were changing the colour of liquid that they produced. It was an odd sight.

Upon setting out to visit, she hadn't wanted to reveal her identity or even hinting about her knowledge of the secret her family had been trying to hide. But she decided to. Hoping to get a rise out of the woman. A useful rise. Something to help her get to the bottom of this seemingly endless hole.

"Why did you push Jamal into the water that night, grandma?"

It was thought impossible for her pale scaly skin to grow any whiter but she proved them wrong as her skin became whiter an her pores opened up and gushed even more profusely.

Someone else knew. Why won't death just accept her?

Hello beautiful people! How have you been?
I know, I know. I was supposed to upload weeks ago but damn! I've been through quite a lot.
I'm currently still recovering from malaria aggravated by stress. Please don't let mosquitoes bite you and find time to rest!
My heart has been with this book for all the time I couldn't write. Almost wanted to give up at some point but I can't do that to you guys or to myself!
Thank you so much for your support.
Please continue to vote and comment.
Love,
Naomi.