To Love And Be Loved

Chapter 38

He sat on the sofa in the dark room, arms on the armrest, boots on the soft rug - relaxed. He could as well have been a part of the shadows. Picking the lock had been quite easy. He had done it many times, years ago when he had gotten home past his father's curfew time.

The room was quite bare, even for a student's hostel. A bunk bed stood at the end of the room and a television at the other. The blinds next to him were drawn, shutting most of the moon and the noises of the other students. The blinds at the other window were drawn up. The occassional car bathed the room in the dull orange glow of its headlights.

He didn't know for how long he had been waiting. It coud have been minutes or even hours for he had lost track of time. Only the tick-tock of the wall clock behind him and the icy rage that was slowly building up from the pit of his stomach kept him company.

He was angry, mostly at himself; for feeling and allowing emotions cloud his judgement. Cass made him vulnerable and he hated it. He felt like pollen in the wind, without will, without direction.

The image of Cass, spread on the cold tiled floor of the coffee shop- bloody, unconscious and hurt- flashed through his eyes and he winced. He clenched his jaw as he tried counting the stripes on the rug.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door knob rattled and the door opened. He heard feet ruffling on the floor as the door closed. Then, the lights were switched on.

Emeka was frozen, his hand still on the light switch, utter bewilderment on his face. He swallowed, twice.

Victor grinned and stretched his aching legs. "The reaction I get is usually some 'Oh my Gods', some screaming, and a couple of fainting. But you my friend, you look like you've just seen the devil."

Emeka wore a grey Polo shirt that was beginning to fade at the collars. He was tall and dark and he looked like he could take a punch or two. He frowned.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"You know damn well why I am here," said Victor. He ached for something he couldn't quite place. He wanted to direct the anger at something, someone else. A cold numb feeling ran from his chest to his forehead. He pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, lit it and took a drag as he watched Emeka from the slowly swirling smoke.

Emeka slowly folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. "What are you going to do?"

Victor flicked the cigarette butt on his knee. His back ached from sitting for long. "Can I tell you a story? Don't answer that, I'll tell you anyways. You just stand there and listen," he said as he stood up and stretched his back. He trudged towards the window and crushed the cigarette butt against the frame. He turned to Emeka and smiled as he rubbed his hand against the silky curtain.

"Have you ever been beaten so bad that you had no recollection of what happened?"

Emeka stared back. His face was blank except for his working jaw.

"I guess not. Well, my father once beat me so badly that I broke my arm. Another time it happened again and I fell unconscious. When I came to in the hospital, I had no recollection of what had happened. But somehow, I knew. My body remembered."

Emeka shifted on his feet. "I... I didnt mean to... What I did was horrible."

Victor cracked up with laughter. "Why are you telling me now? I asked you to listen." He leant against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "One faithful night, while he was passed out drunk, with a bottle of beer cradled to his chest, I sneaked out." He grinned at the memory. He remembered how he tiptoed to the door even though his father's snores were loud enough to drown a wailing ambulance.