Chapter 2 Listen

Lagos state 2015

Chapter 1

The bulb in William's brain lit, bringing to an end his morning meditation. 'Shit!' he exclaimed with an awoken vigor; 'the game, the game,' he broadcasted to his own hearing and dashed off to the sitting room. The long hand of the craggy wall clock that hung on the wall just landed on 46. Already! It was 7:46 AM and he for sure knew his father would be in the parlor for he wasn't going to miss the third round of NBA'S playoffs, not after missing the first and second. 'There's no game like basketball,' his dad used to say. He never for once could understand his father's love for the game but it was obviously deep rooted.

William walked into the sitting room and surprisingly his father wasn't there. He relaxed on the couch, watching the repeat of a soap opera he had missed the previous day. The calm and pleasant atmosphere in the room was soon disturbed by his dad's hurrying feet and reiterating call, 'the game, the game'. William sighed and shifted his attention to his dad who dashed into the sitting room, took hold of the remote control that laid flat on the center zigzagged table and switched the channel to super-sport like he had mastered the buttons. In no time, Joseph was pounding his chest lightly, as the ball went into the net. 'I love this game,' he told himself.

William concealed his disgust and anger within. For a man of his dad's age, he found his love for sport appalling, basketball at that. He could understand he once had a dream of being a basketball player, but all that faded away, and why, he never said, but that made his addiction to the game utterly obnoxious, so obnoxious that he didn't notice someone was in the room and watching a show before he interrupted. He tried hard to hold back his gaze from expressing his feelings, but his eyes betrayed and flicked as he watched his dad gesturing, in amusement of the game, embroiling him with calories of rage. Worse of it all, his dad so entwined in the game didn't even notice his presence. William for the first time since his dad's arrival glanced at the screen, and playing was his favorite club LA lakers. William let out a deep angry sigh, stood to his feet, greeted then walked away.

'Good morning sir'.

***

The cocks crowed as the yellow scorching sun crawled its way out its shell, drying up dews that sat upon leaves all through the harsh rainy night, giving plants the chance for a long lazy yawn like woken new born babies.

Across the street were vehicles scurrying-hurrying here and there both ends of the streets-causing dust to fly about the air, only to fade away even before reaching the first atmospheric layer of the earth. The dusty air didn't stop pedestrians from adoring the four bedroom bungalow apartment owned by the Craig's. It was one if not the best in the neighborhood.

Mrs. Bolu stared the glowing sun through her kitchen window and smiled at a beautiful day. She stretched the brown frilled cotton to prevent the rays from inflicting burns on her soon to be slain frozen turkey.

'It's time for breakfast,' she announced loudly for the boys to hear and rush down to the dining table. Yes the boys! She was the only female in the house and often referred to her son and husband as that though they often didn't like it. She soon realized it was a manly thing but didn't care; in fact, the more they refused her title the more she called them. Mrs. Bolu mixed the beverages, turned it into the jug and started to the dining.

William and Joseph arrived in silence. Mr. Joseph, burly and tall, was the first to settle hungrily on the table.

'I love it when you smile in the morning, it tells me the night would be better', Joseph teased his wife as he sat. William frowned the more.

'If I remember correctly, that's what attracted you at first blush', Mrs. Bolu boasted with a blush.

William greeted less enthusiastic. 'Good morning ma.' He took a bite of his slice of bread.

His mother replied with a cheerful nod, settling both her hands upon her waist and studied him briefly. She swiveled towards Joseph who was engrossed in his own breakfast. They were at it again.

'What have you done?' Joseph kept eating ignoring what was happening. 'You have a hand in his mood, don't you?'

Joseph dropped his bread on his plate. 'Bolu! You're spoiling this boy, if you haven't spoilt him already. He's no longer a small boy so stop treating him like one.' He returned to eating his food.

'All I did was ask a question, and nothing more. Why giving me attitude?' Bolu retorted.

'Did he tell you he doesn't have mouth to speak for himself?' Joseph retorted, 'or since when did you become his spoke man?'

Bolu's smile was beginning to fade. She couldn't understand why her husband couldn't pamper William being their only child, and considering the circumstances around his birth. Instead, he held on to his conservativeness believing that 'a mother's love for her child if not properly checked, would become an obsession.' Apparently, he wasn't obsessed of having a son.

'I'm starting my final year project next week, and it would cost about thirty thousand naira', William blurted out in an upsurge before his mum could say another word. He wasn't going to be the nub of an early morning quarrel, especially not at the eating table. It was a rule to never quarrel while eating, and he hated that many rules were broken for his sake.

There was a sudden descending silence.

'When did you say you're starting again?' Joseph asked, glad his son was wise enough to end what began because of him.

'Next week', he replied.

Joseph paused for a while, as if to reason financial implication. The mention of money couldn't cause havoc to the Craig's, though they weren't wealthy, they lived above par.

'Ok. Stop by at the office tomorrow and I will sign you a check.'

'Nobody prayed before eating,' Mrs. Bolu said.

Joseph sensed she was about to begin another row and wanted to stand and leave when a sudden unfriendly wind blew into the house. The glistening sun was nowhere to be found, and there came a smell of a fresh dampness in the air.

'Rain!' exclaimed Bolu. She turned to William. 'Quick, my clothes are outside'. The house had grown too dark that only shadows could be seen. The wind was gale, carrying along with it-in every direction-a message of sorrow and whistling the tune of death.

'Stop and stay where you are', Joseph ordered, but the roaring lightening was breaking the sound of his voice.

'What did you say?' his wife shouted above the raging storm.

Joseph was no longer in her range of sight, she struggled about to see him walking towards the window in ambivalence. 'What are you doing?' but he kept on moving. Mrs. Bolu held on to her son tightly, none dared to walk through the darkness.

'I think they are here, Joseph shouted through the darkness.

'Who are here?' William shouted.

'I'll try to close the windows.' Joseph shouted back.

'No! Don't go close to the window...'

She was midway her sentence when she began to hear her husband's struggling feet, and his mumbling plea. William ran after what was after his father when he heard his father's lifeless body thud on the tiled ground. Just then he heard his mother began to mumble in plea, but it was dark and couldn't see what direction she was in. he kept running through the darkness and shouting for help but nothing, and then he heard her body fall to the ground. She was dead too.

In swift seconds, darkness disappeared and everything was normal again, except the lifeless bodies of his parent laid on the floor. The tears in his eyes were too heavy to fall, the pain in his heart was to stiff to wane, but the confusion in his mind was all too mystifying.

Just when he thought it had all ended, Claire swung the door open and walked in.

'What are you doing here?' William wanted to ask but his voice was too heavy. A wind of darkness swept through the room and in one fell swoop Claire-who was still trying to process what she was seeing-had disappeared. Puff! The room was empty again.

The tears he could not shed came pouring down like a disobedient rain warned not to fall. And came sarcastic laughers, three female voices mocking him. He lifted his head to look at what or who they were, and to his surprise he could see clearly through his tears. The faces approached him, their scorn increasing by the distance. He couldn't run, this was his end; he humbly closed his eyes to die a peaceful death.