Earlier today I came into my parlour whistling to find we had a guest. He had his back to me but something about the sloppy, hunched way he sat seemed familiar. My heart raced and Felicia’s laughter seemed slightly tuned out, like a bad radio frequency. She stood upon seeing me, “Peter you are finally home, how long does it take to buy ice cream for Queen? Honestly that girl has you eating out of her hands, little madam.” She looked to our guest and smiled; he now turned and stood awkwardly with a cane that had been leaning against the chair, confirming my suspicions. “British gentleman, long time, you are living well my friend.” Emmanuel stuck his hand out; I dropped the container of ice cream on the table. There was a wet patch of melted ice on the left side of my shirt. My fingers were cool. I shook his hand.
I had not seen Emmanuel for years; I’d heard he got discharged from the army some time back but never bothered to find him. I did not want to rake over old ground. I hugged him, the last thing I wanted to do. A chill settled inside me.
Felicia laughed, informing me that Emmanuel had been telling stories about what army boys get up to! “To think I thought I knew you all this time Peter!” My wife said. “It is nice to see an old friend of Peter’s. These days, it’s all army generals and rich oil contractors.” This was her last comment before picking up the ice cream and walking out. I felt a buzzing in my head as Emmanuel lifted his glass of juice and swigged. Angrily, I asked him what he was doing at my house? He laid his cane down carefully. He then had the nerve to say he was disappointed I never came to see him after what we went through! That I should never have abandoned my friends like that.
“We killed a man.” I spat this at him. It was the first time I had said it out loud, and somehow saying it confirmed I could never really get away from it. I could dodge and side-step but how long for? Not when the memory grows legs, not when part of it hobbles into your living room joking with your wife, holding a cane. Too close.
Emmanuel was bitter; he accused me of benefitting more than any of them. I remember his exact words. “I don’t have friends in high places like you Peter. Do you know what it is to drain a man’s life with your bare hands? To wait for his body to become completely still? No, of course you don’t, you only watched from the sidelines yet reaped all the rewards. I’ve never known why the General took such a liking to you. I heard him say I like the way that Peter conducts himself, with class! You never did him any extra special favours did you?”
I was confused by this statement. When I pressed him, he laughed. “Peter you’re smart but at times miss what is right in front of you. You mean you don’t know about the General? You never heard about his taste for young army boys? It is a well-kept secret.”
My head spun with this revelation. I swallowed the anger working its way up my throat and slowly, silently counted to ten. I managed to probe him about his leg. Apparently, armed robbers came to his house one night, held him and his girlfriend at gunpoint. Stupidly, he resisted a little. They shot him in the knee and took everything. We had come to the heart of the matter at that point so I asked him what he wanted.
“Peter, I’m in trouble, you know I wouldn’t ask but… I need some money.”
I gave him the money. In hindsight I shouldn’t have. He will only come back for more like a leech. He may surprise me and not do so, but people rarely do. In truth, I would have done anything to get rid of him. He wobbled unsteadily out of my house, a broken man. Afterwards, I ran to the downstairs toilet and vomited, and it smelled bad to me, as though the stench had been building for years. In the kitchen I wanted to destroy whatever I could. I smashed plates, bottles, cups and glasses, scattering the place. I drowned out the noise and Felicia’s wet, wild marble brown eyes rolling in their sockets. It was Queenie who stopped me, she ran into the kitchen barefoot, dripping vanilla ice cream onto clear, broken pieces of glass. Then, this evening the questions: what is wrong with you Peter? Should I not have let him in? We were inside our bedroom, where the blue wall still looked freshly painted; the double bed with its large wood headboard had matching blue and white pillowcases, sheets and a cover. The ceiling fan turned continuously; I had thrown my clothes on the floor and was reaching inside the wardrobe in my underwear. Felicia didn’t look a day older than the day we met, just more polished. As bored as she was, our life so far had been good to her. She stood with her hands on her hips; the gold head wrap was unravelling itself as if my silence earlier had offended it. “No, you did the right thing, he wanted money.”
“That’s not all though Peter.”
“I told you what happened!”
“No, you told me your version of what happened, I am your wife. Why do you still keep things from me? Since we were married, all this time, there is something. Something between us and I can’t take it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about; can I have some peace in my own house?”
“You want peace? Fine but I’m fed up of being stuck here while you’re away playing General says! I get excited when guests come because I can talk to them, I can talk to other people more than I talk to my husband! I want to do something with my life.”
“Who the hell is stopping you? You think this house; these nice things were waiting for you? I paid the price while you do nothing! The driver can take you wherever you want to go. What do you think I pay him for? I will replace the things in the kitchen.”
“It was never about the bloody things in the kitchen.” She screamed, slamming the door, so much harder than a woman that slight should have been able to.
I found Queenie on the wooden swing at the back of the compound; she was pulling at the rope handles and kicking her legs up half-heartedly. I walked up carrying juicy cuts of pineapple; her favourite fruit for now, it changes weekly. For a while we didn’t say anything as I pushed her, containing the force of the swing with a steady hand. This I could handle.
“Daddy, why are you mad?” She broke the silence. “Have I done something?”
“No, not you Queenie. Do you know I control the weather?” I said, starting one of my tales she loved and I knew would make her laugh. Sure enough, a small smile came. “How do you make the weather daddy?”
“Well, in the morning if I am in a good mood, I rub my hands together, say a secret chant and make sunshine. Now I can’t tell you what the chant is otherwise it wouldn’t be mine see?”
“Ok, how do you make rain?” She asked, “Do you use the same chant or say it backwards?”
“No, I use a different chant because water gives life, it makes things grow and can erode things. It is everything. And I don’t rub my hands, I call upon the clouds, I need their help and cannot do it without them.”
“What if the clouds are angry with you or you have an argument with them? Can you do it without them then? What if they’re sleeping and they want to be alone sometimes, like mummy?”
“I try not to anger them, I respect them because you know the elements have great power Queenie, and they can control things without us being aware of it.” She scratched her newly braided hair that lay in slim, single plaits. She wriggled her mouth and face like she was trying to loosen the tightness in her scalp. I handed her a pineapple slice, watched as she took a bite.