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Rude Awakening - A Beyond the Trial Novella

By Chigozie Anuli Mbadugha

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RUDE AWAKENING by Chigozie Anuli Mbadugha

Chapter One

Nkechi woke up on that fateful Saturday morning in August feeling happy. Life was good. She was billed to travel to the United Kingdom with her family for a long-overdue vacation in a week. Her husband, Afam, had finally agreed to take some time off work and was granted time off work by his company. Afam had booked a holiday apartment in Burleigh Court in the quiet university town of Loughborough in Leicestershire. She was seriously looking forward to spending quality time with Afam devoid of his busy work schedule. She persuaded him to travel without paperwork from the office. However, on the issue of leaving his laptop behind, she met a massive brick wall.
“Oh well,” she muttered, “I can’t win on every count.”
She was looking forward to taking the children on a day trip to London to visit the Millennium Eye, Madame Tussauds and perhaps Harrods’ in Knightsbridge. Afam laughed when she mentioned Harrods.
“Now I know you have a greedy eye,” he joked.
“I know right now we may not be able to buy much….,” she began.
“Buy anything,” he altered the statement for her.
“Okay...buy anything from Harrods,” she agreed. “But there’s no harm in dreaming, is there? Perhaps if I was working...,” she said, testing the waters.
“Nkechi dear…” Afam interrupted her. “I know you’re a qualified ophthalmic nurse, but I want my children to have a close bond with their mum in the formative years of their lives. Once Nonso enters secondary school four years from now, you can dust your certificate and go back to work,” he argued.
They had gone over this several times, and he always insisted on having his way. Nkechi had failed to make Afam understand why she needed to develop herself professionally, the way he was doing. She appreciated the fact that both of them could not have hectic schedules, as that would affect the children significantly. However, she felt she could joggle her career and childcare with some planning. When Nkechi saw that Afam was not likely to change his mind about letting her work, she reluctantly agreed to be a kept woman for a few years.
In fairness to Afam, he was a generous husband. He made sure they lacked nothing, within his modest income. He was transparent about his finances, and when his company came up with a financial scheme to assist staff in owning their own homes, Afam was one of the first to subscribe. In fact, he had completed payment for the duplex, and the construction of the building was progressing well. Nkechi was looking forward to becoming a landlady or ‘the lady of the manor’ as Afam liked to say.
She loved holidays, especially those that involved travelling outside the country so much that Afam often teased her about it.
“Nkechi, are you sure your placenta was not buried in front of an embassy when you were born? Your love for overseas travel is amazing.”
“I was born in the village, Afam. There were no embassies anywhere near us,” replied Nkechi rolling her eyes at him in feigned anger.
“I will have to ask your mum about this when next I see her,” said Afam. “You are always on your best behaviour when there is a holiday in view.”
“So, help me behave better. Take me on holiday every year.”
She smiled as she swung her legs down from the bed and pushed the cover cloth aside. With three young boys aged six, eight and ten years, Nkechi was used to waking up and hitting the ground running. She looked at her bedside clock – 10 a.m! She was getting up late today because Afam encouraged her to sleep in a little while he sorted out the boys. She wondered how they had fared. The door opened, and Afam walked in wearing matching maroon gingham pyjamas, all 6 feet and 2 inches of him. He had a smug grin plastered on his face and a breakfast tray in his hands.
“I made you breakfast, my lovely wifey,” he said graciously.
She took the tray from him gratefully. “Good morning, lovely hubby.”
The tray contained scrambled eggs with two slices of fresh hot (microwaved) bread and a small bowl of oats with generous spoonfuls of powdered milk (left unstirred). Neat slices of banana and pineapple were in a small bowl beside the oats.
This man certainly knows how to spoil a woman. I could easily get used to this.
“The children...” she began.
“Have been given a bath and fed breakfast by yours truly,” he replied, standing up and taking a bow. ‘They are watching a film, so I can safely say that for the next two to three hours, you have nothing to worry about… until their stomachs start to rumble at lunchtime.”
They both laughed. The boys had a healthy appetite, and Nkechi stopped giving them multivitamins to stimulate their appetite or serve as food supplements when Nonso was two years old.
“Where is your breakfast? This looks like a meal for one,” asked Nkechi.
“I had breakfast with the boys. Sorry.”
“Not a problem at all. Thanks for taking care of us. I didn’t realize how much I needed more sleep,” replied Nkechi.
Afam needed to go to the office, and within an hour, he drove off with Nkechi staring wistfully after him and waving from the front door. She loved her family. She looked in on the children who were so engrossed in their TV programme, they barely noticed her entry. Satisfied that they were comfortable, she took a long well-deserved soak in the bath and dressed up. She was sitting on the bed and drawing up her to-do list for the day when her phone rang. It was not a familiar number.
“Hello...” she cooed happily. Silence.
“Hello...” she repeated hesitantly a little worried about the caller’s silence.
“Hello Madam, please, am I speaking to Mrs Emecheta?” the person on the other end of the phone line asked.
“Yes, you are. Who am I speaking to?” demanded Nkechi. She could feel a sense of apprehension and panic setting in.
“My name is Dr Balogun from Providence hospital on Awolowo Road, Ikeja. Please, we need you to come down to the hospital as soon as possible. There’s been an accident,” he answered.
Nkechi screamed. “Is Afam alright? How bad is it?”
“Madam, please calm down and come over. We’re doing the best we can. You can ask someone to drive you if you’re too emotionally distressed to drive. Ask for Dr Balogun on arrival. Do you know how to get here?” he asked.
He sounded so calm that Nkechi tried to maintain her composure. She did not want to become hysterical. She feared that Afam must have been seriously hurt or else he would have insisted on breaking the news to her himself. She called Afam’s younger brother Chidi and his sister Nwakaego told them what Dr Balogun said to her on the phone, and asked them to meet her at the hospital. When she told her neighbour Uzoma what had happened, she offered to drive her to the hospital. They ushered Nkechi’s children into Uzoma’s flat to stay with Uzoma’s two children and her nanny Ekaete. Uzoma thoughtfully gave Ekaete instructions to feed the children at 1 pm and made sure Ekaete knew how to reach her in the event of an emergency. The children were overjoyed to be spending time with each other. The women drove off in Uzoma’s car.
Nkechi was glad she was not driving. Her heart was thumping so hard she was afraid it would burst. They drove in silence. Nkechi shut her eyes and prayed to God to please spare Afam’s life. They arrived at the hospital and were quickly ushered into Dr Balogun’s office by a middle-aged matron.
“Where’s Afam?” Nkechi asked. “I thought you were taking us to his room.”
The nurse explained that Dr Balogun left instructions that she be ushered into his office on arrival. Nkechi felt a knot tighten in her stomach and tried to breathe calmly. Uzoma squeezed her hand as a sign of solidarity. Nkechi and Uzoma were offered seats in the doctor’s office. A few minutes, later Dr Balogun breezed into the office. He was a tall, heavily-built man in his mid-forties with a blank facial expression. As soon as he walked in, both ladies stood up as if on cue and looked intently at his face. He looked from one woman’s face to the other, as if he was trying to decide which one of them he spoke to on the phone earlier.
“Ladies, please, be seated,” he said finally.
“Doctor, I don’t want to sit down. I want to see my husband. I expected to be taken to his room on arrival. What’s happening here?” Nkechi demanded.
Dr Balogun assessed the situation quickly. Her mind had probably explored a thousand possibilities since his phone call. It was perhaps best to put her out of the mental torture. No need beating about the bush.
“Madam,” he began hesitantly. “I’m afraid I have terrible news for you. Your husband was brought in dead from the accident spot. There was nothing we could…,” he never finished the sentence.
Nkechi screamed and fell back in a faint. Uzoma and Dr Balogun caught her. Uzoma could not hold back her own tears. Nkechi was like a sister from another mother; a soulmate to Uzoma. She knew how much Nkechi loved Afam. Her world was built around him, and today, one phone call with horrible news had brought that world crashing - suddenly, rudely with no prior warning.

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