Basirat Adam was seated beside her brother and her body rocked as she muttered prayers with eyes shut. She was the second daughter of Moshood.
Yerima had his head buried in his palms.
Kafayat sat beside her mother with head resting on her shoulder, while her palm clung to her hand. Tears trickled down her oblong pretty face, the memory of Prince’s burial dominant in her mind.
It was four days after Moshood was admitted and only the day before, they had been allowed to see him. The depreciation within days astonished them so much that the hope they had clung to dashed into pieces. How could a strong man who had served the country with the better years of his life now have to depend on medical equipment and medications for survival?
They were all so engrossed in their individual thoughts that they didn’t hear or see the doctors’ approach.
“The Yekinis.” The older doctor called.
They all snapped back to reality and stood, their heartbeats quickening.
“Doctor…” Basirat began.
“Calm down, Mrs Adam.” He has been their family doctor for close to twenty-five years.
“You all saw Moshood yesterday; you saw his condition so I won’t select a particular sex for the news.” He glanced at the younger doctor and at their faces.
A choking silence prevailed.
His eyes lingered on Aisha and she appeared to him like she had lost six kg since the incident. “I am sorry, we just lost him” He has lost a friend too.
Kafayat screamed and her elder brother pulled her into his arms, embracing her tightly.
He scrunched his eyes shut. “No.”
Aisha lowered herself the floor and wept.
Basirat knelt beside her mum and held her as tears trickled down her face.
“Why Prince and then daddy?” Kafayat asked between sobs.
“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know.” He heaved and bit his lower lips
Kelvin left the comfort of the couch in the sitting wing of his office for the window which gave him a view of the artificial spring in the premises. He thought of her, and he hated it that he had to use pronoun instead of her name. A name he should have asked of.
He didn’t blame Patrick for trying to woo her for there was something remarkable about her, But he blamed him for him for his unfaithfulness and irresponsibility. How dare he molest her or anyone, in his company? His brows furrowed and he placed both hands into his pockets. Taking a cue from what his mother used to tell him and sisters when they were younger.
‘Pray, dearie, pray, that the spirit that possess you to do that will not possess you because then, your crime today might be visited then.’ Kelvin smiled.
To the lady, so principled and intelligent, he couldn’t see the part of the cleaner anywhere in her no matter how hard he tried. He twitched his lips and touched a leaf of the potted plant at the window.
She didn’t appear, speak or act like one and she is so young! He frowned, reminiscing, she would probably be seven or eight years younger than he was which would make her age mate with his youngest sister who was doing well for herself.
Why a cleaner? Why?
He sighed, knowing he wanted to see her again. What was he going to say was his reason and how was she going to feel when she is summoned?
How was he going to start explaining to his secretary who he wanted to see? The question made him chuckle. Would she answer all my questions? He wondered. Was she now emotionally stable?
He turned away from the window and touched his forehead. How could he be so worried about her? He sighed and returned to the work on his desk.
The BRT bus sped along the new constructed road. She glanced at the older lady beside her who was clicking away on her mobile phone with artificial nails painted red and then looked out the window.
Her mind drifted to the incident of a few days back. What an embarrassing way to meet someone who was highly placed; a man she’d heard so much about but hadn’t been fortunate to meet until that fateful day.
She wasn’t embarrassed that he was her saviour but was surprised. It was now obvious why he was the toast of most women. Her eyes gleamed.
It was not all the DGs that would want a cleaner in their office, talk more of dialogue. He was definitely accommodating. He was young for his post but she was sure he was good at it.
She had once heard a member of staff suggesting to her colleague that he might be gay that was probably why he paid no attention to the ladies. To her, it was impressive that he could ignore them but she, Katherine was immune to all those feminine fluttering.
She closed her eyes briefly as the breeze from outside caressed her face.
The bus conductor began calling bus stops.
*** ~~~ ***
Esther Ugbaja is professionally an ophthalmic nurse but she loves to write and focuses more on Inspirational Literary Fiction. She is hoping to delve into the published authors’ world someday soon. Meanwhile, she blogs, when she is free and able, on exceptionalstar.wordpress.com.
Ricochet Of Cataclysm is one of her many stories. I hope you do enjoy it