Chapter 42: Chapter 42
CHAPTER 37
Teju sat on the tiled kitchen floor rummaging how lucky he was that the danger had passed without being answerable to any of its exuberant demands. It was not until there was a piercing crash of thunder which first sent blinding lightning that he realised where he was, and the danger around him. He had spent too much time within the perimeter of the crime scene he had created. He stood up, convinced that the worst was over and walked into the sitting room.
He cast a look at the body. It was still ensnared in the glass. The blood had started to dry on the marble floor. Its colour had altered from plain red to dark red. Her body was now pale, a most affirmative sign that she was drained of blood and life. Her body appeared stiff and unbothered by the troubles of this world. May her soul rest in peace, he thought. He made a cross sign just like Wale did.
He made a final dash for the door and flung it open. He was met with a chilly breeze that sent an arctic feeling down his spine. It appeared the rain would not relent soon enough, and waiting for this unpredictable rain in this unpredictable situation was not an option to consider. He cast a to and fro look outside for a sign of Wale in the darkness, but as he had hoped, he was disappointed. When he was sure all was clear, he dashed into the rain and ran.
Teju ran at the highest speed he could muster in the rain. Though he did not know what was chasing him or why he was running, he ran. The rain was at its summit just as the sun would be at noon. The rain fell in heavy and almost concrete sheets that it seemed as Teju ran in it that he was running through an ocean. The gravity of the heavy drops was like violent snowfall, knocking him into the ground as a carpenter would knock his nail into the wood.
Teju ran and he did not get tired. He ran for close to an hour without a stop. The rain fell and it gave him strength. He could hardly tell where he was heading. The drops were laden upon his eyelashes, making his vision dense. He had to wipe his face several times. He was about a quarter of a mile from his home when he gave up running and started to walk. The rain was still heavy and he walked lazily through it. He wiped at the drops that blurred his view.
The picture of Tiwa's dead body stayed in his inward eyes. The sight lounged almost permanently in his head as though the body was in his head rather than in that sitting room. The image of Wale and his deeds were not strong enough to seize his thought for a moment. He wanted to think about him, but he failed at every attempt. It was as if Wale never happened, as though his unexpected presence and his unprincipled action never made an impression on him.
The fact that Tiwa was dead and that he was the one who took her life had ceased to amuse him. What amused him was that he was wholly unfeeling about her death. He did not feel remorse for her or her family. Instead, he felt she deserved to die since she had killed Simi, him and their marriage right from the beginning. She had made him a living corpse and she never felt remorse about it. Her eventual murder was a retributive crime that required no penance.
The fact that she was dead made everything seemed right, normal and balanced. It made him feel he had lost the battle but had lost nothing in the real sense. "...whatever is done for true love is just and fair" those were the words that kept pealing in his ears like a gong. The more he thought of the syntax, the more he struggled with the meaning. He had killed her out of the true love he had for Simi. These words made him cold, they vindicated him. These words were like a Bible verse to a persecuted Christian.
When he realised he had only killed her by complete accident, he hated it. He hated the fact that he had not killed her by his predetermined will. He was not satisfied that he had not given her a more shameful and painful death than that which she had. He hated her. There were no other words which could describe the resentment he felt towards her despite the fact that she was dead.
He would have killed her a million times only if it were possible. He could have turned around and go back to Oluyole Estate with an iron rod in his hand. He could have smashed and squashed her into disjointed smithereens, letting her blood immersed his face and his clothes. He could have tasted her blood and eaten her flesh. He could have climbed up triumphantly to the roof of her mansion and announced that he had conquered his worst foe. And that he had killed and eaten the daughter of a senator out of deep true love. He could have done all that only if he had the gut. Though he could not do it physically, he did it mentally. The glory and grandiosity that would trail such act of bravery could only be facilitated by the power of his imagination.
Tiwa was dead. She cannot cause any more harm to his marriage. Those were the two basic facts that had added up to become good news. But the bad news was that he had to clean up the gigantic mess she had done. His problems had been compressed into one problem, but it was the heaviest of all. He knew what he ought to expect from a wife who had ditched him on their first wedding anniversary date. He knew today and not tomorrow, she was finally going to give him the divorce papers to sign. He could tell even from the manner she had left. He had gone to Tiwa's house to accost her and made sure she told Simi the actual truth, but he had ended up giving her an eternal silence.
Thinking of the whole situation, it made him think of hell, how scorching it would be. He was sure Tiwa must have claimed her inheritance in hell by now. And probably when Simi divorces him, he was going to hang himself before the police could save him with an arrest. He would also end up in hell, burning with brimstone. He imagined what it would be like to meet his enemy- Tiwa in hell. Was she going to stick out her tongue at him in mockery or was she going to claim she was still interested in him? He wondered what he would do, if he was going to kill her again or if he was going to put a ring in her finger there in hell.
He stood in front of his gated compound, undecided. He was not sure of anything at that moment. He was not sure he was breathing. He did not know if he should go inside and face it or if he should stay outside and lie in the rain. The rain had reduced its tempo. It had receded back to drizzling, with the winds and thunder coming so strong. His blood was freezing. He knew he needed a cup of hot tea, but he wondered what importance was attached to surviving if he could not save his marriage from dying, even as a man.
In facing his crucible, he meant to go into the house and tell Simi point-blank that he was still in love with her. He would tell her that the rift between them had been the orchestration of an enemy and intruder in the guise of a friend. If she did not believe him because Tiwa was a trusted friend, and that she had provided visual evidence, well and good. He should go and bear it like a man in nowhere other than hell, or the worst version of it, in prison.