𝓜𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮

47# MOTHERS

ABOWA, NIGERIA 
APRIL, 2022.

"Take everything. Every last bit of it", Sen. Abubakar yelled into his phone. He hated how slow his secretary was. 

If there'd ever been a better time to get away with all he could before he left office, it was at that moment; when Yahya was too distracted by his wife to focus on how he was managing his finances. 

If he wished, Abubakar could have chosen to relax, it would likely be the Aliyu boy that would win the gubernatorial election anyway. However, he knew Yahya, far more than most did.

He knew the Yahya behind the nice persona, and had experienced, firsthand, the taste of the man's true viciousness. He wouldn't put it past Yahya to somehow scale through the election and emerge victorious. And if truly the man would be reinstated, Abubakr Yusuf had to take as much as he could, as fast as he could; while Yahya's mind was far away from him and all that concerned him.

It seemed more than logical to Abubakr, so why in the world did his secretary not understand a thing?! "I don't want to have to explain this to you again, Simon. Wire all the money into my account".

"But sir", the fool stuttered from the other end, "...all?! We won't have any funds left for the management and--". 

"Shut up!", Abubakar warned, irate. "If that money isn't in my account by the end of the day, find a replacement for yourself, and get your severance pay". The silence on the other end soothed Abubakr's anger. In his mind's eye, he could see the expression Simon always had when his financial situation was being threatened.

It was Abubakr's greatest tool; guiding fools in the right direction. He'd made sure to pick his staff wisely; bright minds, sharp wits, and a devastating financial situation. It helped too when they had a lot of family to support, and very little resources to get by. 

It worked every time. They became dependent on his money; bootlickers, the lot of them. Every once in a while, he'd get the cleric and mallam-types. Simon was one of those. Fortunately for the senator, their faith didn't change their financial situation. They were broke, and had families to feed. It'd take a lot more guidance than necessary, but they'd end up doing his bidding. They always did.

Just as he kept his phone on his bedside table, Safiya entered the room from the bathroom. Mist followed her, her skin dewy, and hair wet from her shower.

Abubakr hummed in appreciation, flashing her a smile. She returned his smile, settling next to him on the bed. 

It was rare between them, intimacy that wouldn't lead to intercourse, but it did happen every once in a while. Safiya snuggled into her husband, a small smile playing on her lips. Abubakar glanced at her smiling face, feeling one of his threaten to break free. He was transported, in that moment, back to a time where Safiya was still head over in love with him...not as overcome by greed  as she was now. Back then, he'd been loyal to her to an extent, to his family too. 

Safiya and Jamilah, they were his world...his girls. But the climb up the political ladder came with sacrifice, and sometimes that sacrifice was grave. His definitely had been. He'd had to sacrifice his integrity and his family.

Abubakr fancied himself a person who'd been good once, but perhaps, he had never been. Perhaps, a life where he'd had integrity was just a lie he told himself to justify his actions. Good men regretted their poorer choices in life, they resented themselves for it, but Abubakr couldn't say he'd particularly felt anything of regret. 

Other than the odd pinch in his heart here and there when he remembered his past self, there wasn't a thing he wouldn't repeat if there was a necessity. He wasn't sure if that made him a terrible person, but he knew it made him a successful one. And that, truthfully, was enough for him.