Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Miriam returned from work with a sad face. She was still to brush aside the hangover of last night. When she entered the living room, she found Martha eating biscuits and sipping a cup of tea. She was watching the television.

‘Where is Jessie?’ she asked, startling her. Martha was immersed in the show on TV, and did not notice Miriam’s presence.

‘Welcome, Mom,’ Martha replied, rising from the sofa. ‘I didn’t notice you were here. Jessie is in her room. She said she doesn’t want to be disturbed.’

‘That’s interesting. Is she up to something?’ Miriam asked, yawning, her eyes rolling suspiciously.

‘I don’t know, Mom,’ Martha replied, smiling.

‘That’s all right,’ Miriam said. She had settled in her heart she needed to be happy. She would keep her daughters away from the pain she was going through no matter what. Martha and Jessie were not supposed to share in her misfortune. She loved them fiercely. They were the reason why Frank was stupid to imply she was now barren. They gave her hope; they made her hold her head in the gathering of women. If it weren’t for them, her world would have been empty and cold. If it were not for them the women of Abagana would mock her. They were the reason she lived.

Miriam sat on the sofa and slipped her feet out off her shoes. She held them in her hand and began to clatter up the stairs on barefoot. She reached the bedroom and the door was slightly ajar. Frank had returned. She opened the door gingerly and found him sitting on the bed and talking on the phone. She greeted him lamely, and Frank responded with a languid wave of the hand. She walked to the shoe rack and placed her shoes on it and began to undress. The air-conditioner in the bedroom was humming, as she knotted the towel loosely across her succulent breasts. Frank had just finished talking on the phone when he turned towards her, and the sight of Miriam’s shapely body sent chills down his spine. He pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose and stared at her briefly. Miriam was beautiful and ageless. She was like fine wine that gets better with time. His eyes moved to her backside that pushed out perfectly, and quivered at every step she took. He gulped air. Frank sprawled on the bed, watching Miriam as she entered the bathroom. When he heard the patter of water on the bathtub, his mind drifted from her to Stan and his visit to his office earlier in the day. He had gone over to see Stan in his office in the afternoon but he was not around. Stan was out of the office for an urgent matter at the other branch of his hospital. He had returned home feeling gutted. He was a deeply troubled man. He needed to see Stan and this strange prophet of his, and he had to convince Miriam they ought to see him.

Miriam returned from the bathroom with the scent of her soap, thick in the air. She sat on the chair in front of the mirror, combing her long, curly hair. Frank remained on the bed, staring at her. He had always loved her glossy and shapely body, the healthy sheen of Miriam’s hair, and the turgid and firm shape of her ageless breasts. He rose from the bed and clasped her in his arms. Miriam remained cold in his arms. Frank buried his face in her hair, inhaling the enthralling shea butter scent of her silky hair.

‘Mimi,’ he called her softly. ‘I am deeply sorry for what happened last night. In fact, for all the things I’ve done to you. You know I love you, don’t you?’ he cooed into her ear, nibbling at it gently. Miriam softened in a cold shiver. She had planned to make it hard for Frank. To retaliate, to hurt him back, and make him see the pain he was putting her through. But standing there in his arms, it was clear to her, her body was betraying her. She could feel the awkwardness of it. It had been a long time since she felt Frank’s warm and delicious touch. Scalding tears seeped from her eyes, as she fought hard to hold back the deep hunger for him.

‘You know I cannot hate you. That’s why you always mistreat me,’ Miriam muttered under her breath, as tears streamed on her face.

‘I am sorry, please forgive me. Ask for anything, even the moon and you shall have it,’ Frank said.

‘You know with me, you’ll never have to buy gold or diamonds to make me happy,’ Miriam said, as a faint smile stretched her face. ‘All I’ve ever wanted is you. I’ve never asked for more. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.’

‘You know you always have me forever,’ Frank said passionately, staring into Miriam’s eyes. He cupped her face in his hands and watched her, as her beautiful face gleamed in the room. When his lips pressed against hers, Miriam melted in his arms, quivering, panting and clasping him to her body, as her towel slithered from her waist and fell on the marble floor. Frank took her in his arms and walked to the bed and Miriam sprawled on the bed, breathing heavily. Frank clasped her and dimmed the light of the bedroom. His hand travelled slowly across Miriam’s body. Miriam reached for his hand and led him to her breasts. His tongue ran slowly across her cleavage and nipples. Miriam moaned in wild ecstasy. She stiffened her lips and shut her eyes tightly; as Frank straddled her and guided himself into her. His thrusts were deep and slow. Miriam was lost in the ocean of sheer grace.

Outside the house, a heavy mist had coiled in the air. The night was terribly cold. Frank rose from sleep and unclasped Miriam whose face was beaming with a smile. He stared at her and chuckled. Miriam was a passionate and sensual woman, and he should never have hurt her. It was important they talked; they needed to see Stan and this strange prophet of his. The need to see the prophet had become very important that it was now robbing Frank of sleep. He stretched his hand and tugged at Miriam gently, stirring her from sleep. Miriam turned clumsily on the bed and muttered. He tugged at her again and Miriam opened her eyes with a grimace on her face.

‘What is it? Why do you bother me now?’ she protested, sighing.

‘I am sorry, but we need to talk. We need to find the way to end this,’ Frank said calmly. Miriam sat upright, facing him.

‘You speak as if we haven’t been doing anything all these years. What have we not done?’ she asked him.

‘We haven’t done everything. We still have to do more. We must run out of options. We’ve to see Stan tomorrow. We’ve to see his prophet,’ Stan said, staring at Miriam. Miriam stared back at him.

‘I really don’t want to argue with you. But you know I don’t like all these prophets and their decorated shrines. My friend was swindled and raped by one of them last month,’ she replied him.

‘I understand your fears. Do not worry about that. We’ll be careful. We’ll not do anything that is against our faith,’ Frank said, ‘you have to promise me you’ll come with me.’

‘All right, I’ll come with you. I hope you’re satisfied?’ Miriam said half-heartedly, staring at Frank. Frank smiled and heaved a sigh of relief. He reached out and clasped Miriam in his arms and they returned to sleep.

Before the first rooster crowed, and the thin light of morning sliced through the mist in the damp air, Frank was already up from sleep and was preparing to meet Stan. Miriam was awake; however, she was still uncertain the prophet would be of any use. Frank, however, coaxed her to keep an open mind. He would be doing the same thing, he told her. Miriam sat edgily on the medium-sized chair in front of the mirror, pouting her lips and painting her face. Frank who had dressed up in his fine suit was already out of the bedroom and halfway down the polished stairs, waiting for her in the living room. Miriam smeared the glossy lipstick on her lips and began to hurry downstairs. Frank was already backing the car out of the garage. She climbed into it and they eased out of the compound. There was no traffic jam on the road that morning.

Stan was already at the hospital. He was sitting on his plush armchair, ruminating over some serious matter when Frank and Miriam entered his office.

‘Whoa! You guys look sharp!’ he piped, as they faced him. ‘You’re welcome. Please have a sit.’ Stan was smiling and pointing at the armchairs in front of his mahogany table.

‘Thank you, Stan!’ Frank said, as they shook hands. ‘I don’t think I need to tell you why we are here, do I?’ he asked him.

‘No, you don’t need to,’ Stan said. ‘You see, both of you are not only my best patients, but my best friends. I’ve said this for the umpteenth time; your continuous failure to have another child is not a medical problem. It baffles me. Trust me. This prophet is different, you’ll see for yourselves.’

‘A child’s fingers are not scalded by the piece of hot yam his mother has placed on his palm,’ Frank said, wiping the sweat on his face, as his eyes darted towards the air-conditioner. ‘I trust you completely, and I know you mean well for me. You’ve said it yourself. I am your most cherished hen. You certainly will not play with my eggs.’ Stan adjusted his posture on the chair and smiled. Miriam remained silent and expressionless.

‘I know you must have come here in one of your flashy cars,’ Stan said, rising from the chair and looking outside the window. ‘Can we drive in it then?’

‘Of course,’ Frank replied, jangling the keys in Stan’s face. ‘You know the way so you should drive.’ Stan took the keys from Frank. He shut down his computer and shoved aside the files on the table. He shut the door of his office and they clattered down the stairs.

Stan was a brilliant driver. He made his way nimbly, swerving the car daintily on the potholed roads, leaving other cars in his dust. And before long, they were at the prophet’s. Neatly emblazoned on a large, gleaming signpost was: ‘Paul and Silas Ministries International.’ Miriam stared at the signpost and scoffed. The church’s name sounded uninventive and helplessly bland to her. They climbed down from the car and stood by it as she scoured the area.

‘Do you worship here?’ she asked Stan, narrowing her eyes in the rising morning sun.

‘Of course, I do,’ Stan replied, staring at her. ‘I know you are Roman Catholics, but you should try other places sometimes. It’s refreshing,’ Stan added. The church building was dull and unattractive. The paints were blanched. They were unlike the garish paints of the splendid Saint Mary’s Parish in which they had their Masses and Benedictions, with the young, handsome and polished priests, speaking through their noses in fluent English and Latin. The celestial choir clad in white and immaculate robes, rending the air with sonorous hymns and songs that moved the heart.

‘Thank you for your advice,’ Miriam replied Stan blandly, as the words of Father Gregory echoed on her mind. In the last Mass, Father Gregory had warned them not to patronize the new generation churches. These churches, he told them were filled with men that were nothing more than disguised robbers, witch doctors and swindlers. Frank who had been standing by the car gestured at Stan to lead them inside the church. The lawns of the church’s compound were covered with trimmed grasses and sparse hibiscus flowers close to the fence, while the wall of the fence was green. Stan took the right turn and they walked through the hallway, flanked by tall and slender coconut trees whose branches were touching the rusty zinc of the church’s roof. At the extreme of the hallway, was an awning leading to the right side of the building. Stan stopped and made a sharp turn to the left and knocked on the first door.

‘Come in!’ a throaty voice said from inside. Miriam brushed Frank’s shoulders and Frank held her hand and urged her to relax. Stan pushed the door and they entered the sweet-smelling office, with Miriam’s stilettoes clattering the tile floor.

‘Good morning, Prophet Hezekiah,’Stan greeted, shaking hands with the bearded man. ‘They are the friends I told you about,’ Stan added, pointing at Frank and Miriam. Frank shook hands with the prophet, and Miriam smiled him.

‘You’re all welcome. Have your seats,’ Prophet Hezekiah said, his voice throatier than the first. He gestured them to the chairs in front of his table. They sat down facing him. ‘I should have been in a meeting now, but I stayed back to meet with you,’ he said, staring at Frank intently. ‘I see you have come to ask God for what your heart desires, but you have not asked God what he wants as well,’ he said, making a light pause. ‘Be that as it may, you have shown great faith by coming. You’re wealthy, but money cannot buy everything. And because you’ve realized that and have returned to your fortress as a prisoner of hope; I declare today, that God will render unto you double.’

‘Prophet, we have come to God believing that we shall receive. Please help us,’ Frank said calmly. ‘And believe me; we’ll give back to God anything he wants from us.’

‘Very well, we shall seek His face in prayers,’ Prophet Hezekiah said, as he rose from the chair and started a soulful hymn. Then he burst into a stream of incomprehensible jabber. Miriam clasped Frank’s hands and shut her eyes tightly. Stan’s hands were together, pointing heavenwards. As they prayed, Prophet Hezekiah made a sharp dart towards Frank and placed his hand on his head. Then he drifted away from him and placed his hand on Miriam’s stomach and smeared the Olive oil on her forehead. He rounded off his prayers with another hymn.

‘You can now open your eyes and sit down,’ he said to them. ‘We’ve victory in Jesus’s name, and all things are possible through him. I shall now tell you what you must do,’ he said to Frank. Frank sat upright on the chair.

‘Brethren, the people who go to witch doctors with money, chickens, fat goats and tubers of yams are not stupid,’ Prophet Hezekiah said, as he stroked his goatee artfully. ‘Those items are for the gods. The ones we call man-made gods. However, these offerings work. It’s the same with our God. When you wish to get something big from Him, you must offer something great in return. It’s a man’s gifts that make the way for him. When we sow sparingly, we reap sparingly. When we sow bountifully, we reap bountifully. Listen attentively! You must follow the path of these godly and unselfish men: Jephthah, Abraham and Hannah who offered their most cherished possessions to the Lord in exchange for what they wanted. You must provoke the Lord! I know you’re thinking I am talking about money. It’s not that. I know very well that you have two daughters. Are you willing to offer one of them to the Lord? If you do this, you shall have a son in return,’ Prophet Hezekiah finished.

Frank shifted on the chair and stared at the prophet with a pale face. What he heard sounded strange and unbelievable. His legs melted under him and he felt like a man living in a bubble. He moved his hands awkwardly across his beards and stared at Miriam, tears had welled up in her eyes and were trickling on her face. What the prophet said was a difficult proposition. They came to him because they wanted to find the way to have another child, and not because they wanted to give away the ones they already had.

‘Are you suggesting the life of the oblates for one of my daughters? Is this the only way?’ Frank asked in a quivering voice. As he looked from the prophet to Stan who was mute and startled.

‘Exactly, it’s the only way. You must show the Lord like Abraham did, that you cannot hold back anything from him,’ Hezekiah said audaciously. Miriam broke into tears and sobbed uncontrollably. She had never liked these prophets and her hunch about Prophet Hezekiah was right. She clasped Frank’s hand and groaned.

‘No one will touch my precious daughters! They are all I have. Leave them out of this!’ she moaned. Frank pressed her face on his chest and exhaled. He rose limply from the chair and wiped his nose with his handkerchief. He reached Prophet Hezekiah and shook his hand.

‘Thank you very much,’ he said ruefully. ‘We shall be on our way. I’ll talk with my family and make a decision.’ Frank’s face was lined with deep crinkles.

‘That’s beautiful,’ Prophet Hezekiah replied. ‘Our God is faithful to the end. Sometimes, he tests our love and faith for him. Let’s do our part and let him do his.’

Stan rose stiffly from the chair and shook hands with the prophet. Miriam gathered herself and traipsed towards the door. She remained in Frank’s arms as they drove home. The car was silent as death. The prophet’s words kept preying on Miriam’s mind; his words cutting through her heart. Everything seemed like a horrible nightmare, and she needed to wake from it.

‘No one will touch my daughters. No one will take them away from me,’ she went on, as tears streamed on her face. Frank who was confused and disappointed stared at her and said nothing.