SWEAT AND ROSES cont..

I imagined myself in the world right now; I probably would be puffing smokes from jumbo sized marijuana into the sky to cool my nerves.

But here, it’s hell; what kind of feeling did I expect to feel in hell if not ‘hot as hell’. Does the mail man even exist? Is he a fraction of my imagination propelling me to write more of me down in these wet sheets of paper? If you get this part of my story, then it is proof that someone did come for it. I look over at the far end of hell, Bobby looks in my direction; for a second I think he recognizes me, I think he is about to smile at him. Wrong!! The fool just stretched his mouth wide to its limit, shows off his super decayed brown teeth and bursts into hellish tears, even I, am ashamed to look at his sorry face, considering the fact that he used to be the ‘tough skin’. He turns around to his punisher and the cycle begins.

I sighed, “had I…” wait a minute! I swore never to use these words and now I’m living it. There is no shame in regretting; that I have finally come to realize. I wish I can buy my way out of this eternity; I can give anything for a second chance. Finally I had to let it go; “had I known”, I said to myself. Forgive me if my story’s cuts to you as irregular, because I only pen down as I remember them. This place is no amusement park. I am even surprised myself that I have time to think of anything. I closed my eyes and let the thoughts of my past run free. I was born in the eastern part of Nigeria by a sickly mother to a wealthy ‘scumbag’ of a father; Mr. Godspower Chidalu. Like I said earlier, “I am the architect of my own demise” but I didn’t grow up into a perverted, drug abusive son of a bitch over night on my own; someone helped push me down that lane; my father. Even though he was so rich, it never showed in the family or the house we live in. my kid brother died of tetanus infection from the injury he sustained in the compound we lived in..

What did the old man do about the sore on Williams’ swollen ankle? He called our family doctor and they had the ankle disinfected and asked Williams to take a tetanus injection but he refuse and ran out of the house for days because he hates the syringe. Two days later, Williams is dead, his body was found in the morning in the visitor’s room. Now you are wondering, why am I putting blames of my brother’s death and my wayward lifestyle on Mr. Godspower Chidalu since it is clear he did everything fatherly possible to save his son? Now, all that I wrote about family doctor and ‘runaway williams’ is the direct opposite of what happened. I had just come out of my room into the sitting room, ready for work; Bobby has been calling constantly and I am not about to make us lose this big new decking contract. The door bursts open, Williams limps in; he is bleeding from the ankle and seems to be in serious pain. “What happened to you” I asked on my way out. “I jumped down from the rail and something cut my leg” was his reply. “Show it to daddy” I said and was stopped short by what I heard. “Go to Ugochi, tell her to use a hot knife put in the fire to drop hot palm oil into the wound and it will go. Don’t bother me with this little cut”. I turned around with disgust on my face; “why not just give Ugochi a hundred naira to take him to the chemist”. I turned to Williams, “make sure you get a hundred naira from dad and go to the chemist for treatment”. I walked out of the house in a hurry and came back three days later to regret not collecting that money myself; my kid brother lay on the visitor’s bed, dead; his wound has remained untreated and got infected by tetanus.

Now you can judge me, am I being hard on the poor man for nothing? Am I actually to blame for my kid brother’s death? You know how I lost my kid brother, but how did I lose my own life? My hatred for Mr. Godspower Chidalu did not start after the death of my brother, it started way back before Williams was born. I could tell whenever he was coming from miles away; the foul stench from mixtures of alcohol and his own vomit is a giveaway that my dad is back from his office. I watch helplessly as my ill mum pulled his stinking clothing off and dragged him to the bathroom for thorough scrub down. He would wake up the next morning to complain of money missing from his pocket and my mum and I would receive spanking and no money for feeding for that whole day; it’s not like he drops money for our daily feeding anyways. So you can understand my hate for him. Oh! Before the mailman walks away without my mail, let me quickly fold this and scribble my name as usual. I promise to get to you next week. Yours truthfully; Baron Chidalu..

Chidera Reginald.