Here’s the concluding part of Moyo’s interesting 3part series, Hell Hath No Fury. Enjoy…
“No Oju ! You can’t come here ! I’m busy ! Yes really ! What ? That what ?! Yes ! Then leave me alone ! Fucking hell ! Don’t ! I’ll tell the security not to let you in. Oh ? Oh no ? Try me.” Yemi cut the phone and tossed it at the wall in anger. By this time, Yemi had reached his wit’s end. Saying he was frustrated was putting it lightly. This bitch was crazy. How did it get to this ? Ojuola had become this girl who acted like she couldn’t breathe without him. How could breaking up be so difficult ? She didn’t understand the easy-to-grasp concept of “Leave me alone, I’m no longer interested”. She’d show up at his office or at a local bar claiming undying love for him. She’d call everyone’s attention and say that he was her husband and he didn’t want to come home anymore.
Yemi was going to church when he saw what happened to his car. Yemi had used the first ever 15 million he made to buy it. A 2012 Range Rover Evoque in matte black. The entire interior was black leather with silver accents here and there. This car was his pride and joy. Yemi was so emotionally attached to this car and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Not like there was anything to deny, it was an awesome piece of European engineering. His head lights were broken in, his wind shield had been shattered to shards and there were huge dents in the car doors and on the hood. He nearly passed out after he saw the damage. All he could think was why ? On the passenger seat there was a brick that was wrapped in paper. He unwrapped it, read the contents and exploded. He then threw a tantrum befitting of a 4 year old.
“Look at what you make me do when you ignore me. Love always, Ojuola.”
Yemi relayed the entire episode to Jide and was near tears, fixing his car was going to cost at least 5 million, which wasn’t the problem. The problem was that after everything she did to him and his car, she was still incessant with the threats, apologies and claims of love.
“I’m going to kill this bitch. I swear to God. I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her.” Yemi shouted angrily.
“Keep your voice down Yemi, chill.” Jide advised.
“No! Jide I’m tired! She’s is wearing me out !” He shouted louder.
Jide hadn’t seen his friend this angry since… since… thinking of it he’d never seen Yemi angry.
“So fe lo s’ewon ni ?” Jide asked.
“I’d rather go to jail than let that psychopath bully me into loving her.”
“I know guys they specialize in this sort of thing.” Jide said quietly.
“I don’t need a fucking therapist !” Yemi shouted.
Jide threw him a dirty look.
“Did you hear me ? I said I know GUYS that specialize in this sort of thing.”
Yemi noticed the emphasis on the “guys” and furrowed his eyebrows.
“Jesus Jide ! I know what I said but I don’t really want her killed ! I just want her to leave me alone.”
“Killed ke ? They’ll just rough her up a little bit, threaten her and get her shaken.” Jide replied.
Yemi looked skeptical. Jide went on and explained everything in detail. He called a few people right there and then and made plans.
“So you’re sure they won’t hurt her ?”Yemi asked uneasily.
“Yes.” Jide answered this question for the 100th time and he was beginning to get annoyed.
“How do I pay them ?”
“I’ll take care of that Yemi, just go and fix your car.”
Yemi signed off, thanked him and left with a heavy heart.
Yemi paced around his bedroom on the night of the “operation”. He had prayed to God, although it was kind of stupid, considering. His phone rang and it was a private number.
“Oga ! Oga ! Problem wa o!” The man on the other end shouted.
“What problem ? What problem ?” Yemi asked, his heart beating twice as fast as normal.
“As I use knife touch ‘in neck, na so she jump.”
Yemi was silent.
“Hello ? Hello ? Sir ? You dey there ?”
“Yes. Yes I’m here.” Yemi answered.
“I think she don die sir.”
Yemi paused and his next question surprised him, “Are you sure ?”
“Yes sir, she no dey breathe.” He replied.
A wave of guilt and relief flooded him.
“Wetin you want make we do sir ?”
“Leave, leave her there, leave that place.”
Yemi took forever to fall asleep that night and when he did Oju plagued his dreams. From that night on all he dreamed of was her. It was sickening to admit but he missed her, the normal loving her not the crazy her. He missed her smile and unassuming answers. He missed her body and the way she smelled. He cried a number of times and said a prayer for her soul when he remembered. He thought of her so often he began to see her, only in his mind’s eye at first, but she began to appear behind him in the mirror or under the desk in his office. Yemi knew his sanity was slipping away.
One morning, Yemi was backing out of his driveway in his newly fixed range rover when he saw Oju in his backseat. She was lying there with only the white of her eyes showing and a slit throat. Her dirty nightgown was raised up above her hips and she had cigarette burns on her thighs and crotch. Yemi had never had an out of body experience before and he didn’t even know what it meant. All he knew was his fright separated his spirit self from physical self. He watched himself step on the accelerator, burst out of his gate and hit an oncoming motorcycle, but could do nothing about it. The motorcycle and it’s rider flew right across the street broke into the wall of the opposite house.
3 weeks later, Yemi found himself in the hospital, waking up from a coma. His mother and Jide were by his bedside. He watched their faces light up. Elated, Jide ran to get doctor and his mother began calling everybody to share the good news. He was surrounded by his family, friends and co-workers in a matter of hours. He felt very loved. He was feeling weak, and he smelled a little but he was glad to be alive. Amidst the celebration, he learned that the motorcycle man died. Yemi was sure he was going to hell now, he had killed two people. After everyone had left, he told his mother how he had the accident. Convinced that her son was being haunted by her husband’s family, she rushed out and came back with her pastor. Like Paul and Silas they prayed and prayed and sang. He never saw Oju after that and he was thankful that he was free.
After the accident Yemi had to move, his old apartment and it’s 3 flights of stairs wasn’t working out anymore. What with the crutches and all. After some months at his months at his mother’s place, he moved to a big bungalow that was closer to work. It had a ramp built just for him. He didn’t like the idea at first but it grew on him. The place was so spacious and the interior designer did a fantastic job. A middle aged woman who believed in feng shui and energies and qi. She was fully Nigerian but she had lived in China for 32 years, something she referred to at every opportunity. The house was infused with Chinese reds and deep ocean blues. There was pot pourri on every surface and a hanging scroll on every wall. It was an ideal bachelor pad. He loved to have people over just for bragging sake. The place was straight out of a magazine and truthfully, coming back home was usually the best part of his day.
Somehow Tuesdays were the most stressful days of the week and he dreaded going to the office. He had numerous deals to see through and all clients visits were scheduled on Tuesday. Yemi was the managing director of Dulux Nigeria Paint Company. He was something of a prodigy at 32 and was successfully leading the paint industry in Nigeria to a new place. All his colleagues were older him but that was okay because they treated him with respect and admiration. They all knew how intelligent and hardworking he was. He landed the Coca Cola deal after stiff competition with Julius Berger and today he was to meet with the major players from Coca Cola and discuss details. Yemi walked into the conference room with his game face and his crutches. What amused Yemi was that they were all young men and the meeting he dreaded had turned into a gisting session filled with laughter and undue celebratory champagne. The branch manager of Lagos, a lanky guy with a gap tooth was the funniest of them all. He knew they’d be friends when he made fun of Yemi about his “one and a half leg”. The chief accountant of Coca Cola, Abuja, a short serious guy called Seye, was the voice of reason and kept trying to avert everyone’s attention back to work. Who eventually gave up and joined in the fun. The last person in the group was Ahmad Chikwe, an igbo muslim. He was a pretty interesting guy. He was handsome and obviously born with a silver spoon. He didn’t talk much but he had the loudest laugh. After a long meeting of arguments about music, people they all knew and minor deliberations about the deal, Yemi rounded off the meeting. They all exchanged numbers, promising to meet up outside of the office. Finally he awarded his pleasantries and wished them a good night’s rest.
Arriving home, Yemi noticed his front door was left ajar, it wasn’t the first time he had met it that way though. Rushing off for work in the morning made him very forgetful. He walked in, closed the door behind him and sat down on his couch. His eyes were tired and his mouth heavy.
Rubbing his temple with one hand and unbuttoning his shirt with the other. He got up and switched off the tv. He could walk without his crutches but it hurt a lot when he did. He limped all the way through his corridor, using the walls as support, he was completely distracted by his pain.
Groping around the room in the darkness, he hit his leg against the frame of the bed and cursed aloud. He bent slowly to rub his shin and relief himself of pain. Then he heard a giggle. A female giggle.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
“I’ve missed you.”