Tangles!: Episode IX

All blame is placed on the evil owners and operators of the Globacom Network. They of course, blame the network failure on technical issues. Apparently, two of their very, very important wires Tangled in the wrong place so uhm..it spoilt the uhm..network on both Blackberry, Android and modem.
Yes. It is sad.
We resume..

CHAPTER NINE

Why do men do what they do? Why do they live the lives they live? Is it Fate that propels them, placing factors to determine their every step? Or do they simply play out a role afore written by the ghostly hand of a silent creator?

The hospital had never been his destination. Never. The words had been discrete, simple and yet obscure. Nevertheless their meaning had been clear.
“To create, you must destroy. To teach, you must scold. You strike while the iron is hot and the centre would not hold.”
The meaning was clear.
So what was he doing here? What was he doing with her?
He opened the satchel.

11:45am

The last day of Camp was the worst. All it took was five seconds. Five seconds and the decorum and order the Camp had maintained for three weeks descended into a new brand of anarchy. At one moment, the parade had been grinding to a halt with the final remarks and vote of thanks being offered. In the next moment, the colours had marched off the field and disorder took precedence.
The Corpers scurried from one end of the compound to another. Clearance, letters, assignments, the world was in chaos. And in every corner, girls clung to each other and to anxious looking young men:
“I will miss you..”
“You will call right..?”
Tony was sitting in a cushioned chair hanging at 3,600ft above Lagos. He wasn’t missing anyone at the moment and he sure as hell could not call. He checked his phone again, the Glo network bar was still at SOS.
He would soon see her.
The plane continued to descend.

Festac
10:45am

“Doctor, are they here yet?”
He had asked this question four times now. Dr. Akpan only smiled. He could understand. It was a common phenomenon with patients especially during convalescence. The fear that with recuperation, their loved ones who had showered them so much attention before, had gotten bored.
In truth, the patient was getting exasperated. His ribs were on the mend, and the torn muscles were beginning to respond again. He had started physiotherapy, with one hour of light cardio in the morning and though his body had lost upward of 15kg, he was doing good. Even the scars were beginning to look sexy. Already he had a good, dangerous sounding story for the girls, about the long curved scar under his armpit. All he needed was to get out of the hospital and back to the world.
Paul took stock of the hospital room that had become his home for some days now. He was sitting on the sheets, white nylon joggers covering the scars on his knees and thigh. On the TV, a bearded preacher was predicting Obama’s loss in the coming US polls. The room looked bare now, the EKG and the rest of the scary machines haven been removed a while ago.
Paul’s wounds had healed quickly, though his naked, massive chest remained partially wrapped in bandages and plaster to bind his splintered ribs.. Someone who knew the well built giant a few weeks ago would have been hardpressed to recognise the husk he had become. His body was still formidable but with his hollow eyes, his laboured breathing and the limp in his gait, it was obvious this was a man who had been through hell, recently. The massive forest of coarse black hair planted on his face and neck didn’t seem to help matter much. But as he was in a hospital, he might as well look the part; that was the reason he had given Shae for not shaving.
“Take a deep breath,” ordered Dr Akpan.
Paul complied.
“Where does it hurt?” the doctor asked.
“Nowhere. I’m fine,” replied Paul hiding a wince.
The doctor nodded knowingly and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like “Morphine” to the nurse.
Paul grinned and turned back to his i-Pad. The sins of working in a cut-throat bank, if you wanted them to cover the insurance on your crashed car, you had better be ready to resume work as soon as you could see out of both eyes.
“Doctor, I am working on a brief. I can’t be drugged.”
“Then you had better drop it. I don’t understand you bankers. Don’t they know you’re in the hospital?” asked Dr Akpan incredulously.
“My question exactly,” returned Paul, winking at the nurse.
Doctor Akpan grinned. The nurse smiled.
“I’m glad to see your ordeal hasn’t worsened your sense of humour,” joked Akpan.
Paul laughed, softly. He couldn’t laugh his usual booming laugh even if he wanted to, the effort would deliver him into a painful paroxysm of coughing. Last time, he had coughed so hard he literally heard his funny bone snap! He laughed gently now.
“Humour ke? Dat one no concern me. My own issue Doc, is if you’ll allow me drive out of here.”
“Drive? No way! I’ll let your girlfriend pick you though.”
As the doctor left, the nurse lingered for a brief second to drop a small note with what looked like a series of numbers. Paul grinned. She was the one who gave the nice massages right? He slipped the note into his pocket.
At that moment, his i-Pad went into Sleep mode and the screen dissolved into a picture of him and Becks at the Eko hotel. And Fate seemed to speak to him.
His girlfriend eh?

There she is. She doesn’t look pregnant. Did she lie?
Those are the thoughts going through his mind now, guessed Rebecca. She was only half wrong.
It had been raining when they landed, so Tony had to half-sprint across the tarmac. His thoughts had been intent on getting a taxi to Ikeja, then calling her to find out where to meet. It was shocking to pass through the gate and find her standing there staring and waiting. His first thought had been; Oh shit! I’m wet! The second had been; She doesn’t look pregnant.
When Rebecca left the house that morning, her first stop had been at a supermarket to pick something up for Paul. She had run into an old friend there and spent quite a while chatting over meatpies. Then Tony’s text had come through. Apparently, he was headed to the airport to land in two hours or less, and he would want to see her.
Impulse is one of the most familiar traits of pregnant women, or so Rebecca told herself as she raced to the airport. She had not waited long before the arrival of the Azik Airline jet was announced. So here she was, wiping her hands nervously on the legs of her jeggins and staring at the man who first loved her.
“You came..?”
“I did”
“Wow..”
“Right..?”
“Happy Independence.”
They hugged stiffly. A stiff hug, but a lot was said in that brief press of bodies. Some was understood, but much was mistaken, as we would find out later.
“So…you don’t look pregnant..”
Rebecca burst out laughing. “I knew it! I could always read your mind!”
And as it is with old relationships, such statements evoke different sensations and a certain level of pain. They smiled.
“Let’s go Corper,” said Rebecca, recovering first. “Welcome back to Lagos.”

I shall continue this..One last time…

Disclaimer.
*The typos are definitely intentional and act as a true test of the reader’s intellect!(˘̯˘ )
*I have no idea how pregnant women look. ( ._.)
*I actually do like the Globacom network. Which accounts for why I have a Glo phone and modem. Now that I think of it, not so much of a smart plan was it?

NOTE!
The Next Episode would be the LAST episode of Tangles! So, the floor is open. Predict how Tangles! will end!!! There’ll probably be a prize for the best prediction..
And yes, the Interview of the Writer and the scoop, I guess, behind Tangles! would be up very soon. Saturday perhaps…or Friday.

Follow on twitter @janus_aneni

Peace.

Author: Christopher Aneni

Histrionic| Creator| god. View all posts by Christopher Aneni