Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Chapter 25 Building Strong

“Oh geese,” Ella groaned, holding onto her waist, grinning and fetching the basket of apple cider and transferring them into the barns. She caught sight of a brown woolly shirt tucked at the corner. Dirt and cobweb had infested on it so badly that the brown coveted to dark brown. She surged close now, laid hold of the cloth; and breathed uneasily. The cloth was familiar as the sky that caked up there. He had always worn it during work hours – it was her late husband’s cloths she was done wailing even when she knew there was no stopping her as far as her late husband was concern. She sniffed, brought the cloths to her nostrils, shut her eyes and shook her head in a momentary imagination as she recalled the cloth vividly- it was the same cloth he wore when he made his last love to her- she had suspected his violent volcanic love making and wondered if actually he knew he was not going to return to her thighs; her once cold thighs that he had dominated and made warm; her broken heart that he snitched with protections, care and tireless support; her fearless fear that he kissed away as the departure of summer for winter; her week shoulders that he quelled with his touches and affinity. As she rubbed her protruding tummy, a tear leaked and trickled down her cheeks, and then another. She could hear a shuffling walker and then she dried her tears, sniffed her nostrils to dryness and perked up to continue with her work.

“Hi Ella,” it was Brian. He stood at the door, his face smirked with smile and Ella smiled back – a forced one; she needed to do because Brian had been angle’s hand in this hard times. He had nursed her and made sure spring of hope returned to her feet. What would have become of her without Brian would be a myth for another day.

He advanced into the room, “Eh I brought you this,” he said and placed the basket of apple, watermelon fried prawn and peppery pasta. Brian smiled hugely as she peeped into the basket to isolate the items. She opened the dishes and the atmosphere never remained the same. “You like it peppery,” said Brian, staring interestingly at her as she had a spoon, and got excited.

“Oh old hills will remain old hills. Grandma is such a great a cook,” she eulogized and shut her eyes as she masticated.

“Grandma what? I did. I prepared this. You had better get back my glory,” Brian said jocularly.

“You are not telling me something,” she said, rubbing her tummy and smacking her lips of the sweetness that greased on them. “There is a difference between you helped in preparing and you actually preparing the food.”

“And what makes you feel I didn’t prepare this food?” Brian asked noticing her bust that forced on her tunic and her big navel that was as a baseball put in the middle of a heap of sand. He had never stayed with a pregnant woman before neither had he gotten familiar with one to know what their temperament was like. But with Ella he could say pregnant women were cool to be with, awesome and dashing to behold, and neat to handle. She had always worn her best of dresses, did her pedicure and manicure meticulously and ensured her ponytail was a lush sheen, with her caller-lips radiating next to sparkling white dentition. Brian had noticed she had cut down on her frequent spitting and profuse sweating, and mini gowns that molded her big buttocks like two basketballs held in a tight sack.

She replied, “Because I saw you pacing up and down the kitchen.”

“Hell no that was when I was actually fixing the meal.” He pointed at the dishes and sat down only to hold the pictures of her late husband scattered at strategic edges of the bed. She caught Brian’s gaze and joined him in staring at her late husband’s pictures whose silly smile in reality was also maintained in picture.

“Khally,” she whispered, rubbing her tummy and calling yet further, “Khally.”

“Was that her name?” inquired Brian, still gazing at the picture.

“Yes,” she responded, took one of the pictures and placed on hers tummy, and started murmuring some prayers in Mexicans that left Brian gaping and inwardly asking what she as doing.

As soon she was done he demanded, “What were doing?”

“I was praying that the baby boy in my tummy reincarnate as Khally. As if he knew he was going to die, he once said our baby would be named after him.”

Brian went to the holder, poured tea for two and handed her one, he had the urge to ask her if she had gone for antenatal this week, “ I don’t believe in reincarnation, : he said , blew at his tea and took his first sip. “it doesn’t exist.”

She smiled, kissed the picture and kept it back. I don’t pray you become a victim of circumstances that will make you believe in it. I want my husband back here,” she said, affection raining in her eyes.

Brian perceived she was going to sob soon, and was actually wary of seeing her cry whenever he came around. He switched the topic to something else, “I don’t want you to labor much during this period. You don’t need to bother about your salary. You are covered. I have pled with grandma to pay you all that is due you without protocols,” he assured her fondled his hands into the pocket and brought out a roll of hundred dollars, and squeezed into her hand, “that is three thousand. It is my personal incentive to you in the course of this pregnancy.”

Their eyes locked lustfully and he perceived the lustful advance in her eyes. He threw his gaze to the wall, not wanting to initiate a feeling now or ever. She pouted her lips, took the money, gazing upon it. She lacked the words to pour out her heart to him. But then crying was the only message her heart wrote.

“Hell no, not again,” said Brian as he patted her on the shoulders and watched the sweat on her brow mesh the hair above into a curly strand. He wiped the tears with his handkerchief.

She said in sob, “You are the only one I have now. I have no arm to aid me through...” she stuttered and allowed wailing to take over.

“I know it is ok,” Brian assured her. He could recall some nights ago when she answered a phone call in hi s presence and a maddening bickering had ensued over the phone; he overheard the caller threatening to take her life should she return home – and she was to remain wherever she was since her man had kicked the bucket - and amidst wailing she had told Brian the caller was her mother, who had vowed not to bury the hatchet ever since she helped with her man. Brian had nursed her with word s of taking his family as hers and his home as hers too but his promises did not hold water as Ella kept to her weeping, complaining about the vacuum created by the death of Khally. Her mother would not have threatened and mocked her with family support if her Khally was alive.

There was a knock on the door and Brian answered to behold a laborer message him that grandma needed his attention.

“I will be back soon,” Brian told Ella and dashed out. It was a call from California – his parents wanted to know how he was fairing over there. He told them everything was bliss courtesy of grandma also he was building up strong.

When Brian returned to Ella she lay naked, hitting the sack- sleeping, after munching the peppery pasta and an apple. Brian stood winking at her nakedness she had laid on her side and her big pale spotless buttocks, which was divided by her thong called on him. Summer was intensely scorching and pregnancy had its own summer; she was naked because of that. His experience with Kate struck in his head; he wouldn’t want a repeat of trouble. There was no need covering her in the duvet, there was no need touching her since she was naked probably because of the itches that accompanied summer. He had opened a clean chapter in Miami and it would remain. He had a walk, swallowing hard and fighting off his erection down there.