Love's Second Chance

by Myne Whitman

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who’s the black widow?”

  Kevwe and Ofure asked in unison.

  “Efe was given the nickname while abroad,” Dozie said. “She never wore anything but black, and her attitude to men didn’t help. I visited her twice and believe me, one would be forgiven for thinking she’d been married and widowed for real.”

  Kevwe shook his head, and Ofure whistled in wonder.

  “Dozie...” Nneka came into the room with the drinks, “I see you couldn’t wait for me; you’ve told them everything already.”

  “Not everything. But you know it’s an intriguing story.” Dozie smiled at Kevwe and looked at his wife. “You remember it was only after we were married you told me Efe had only been engaged to the guy, and then he broke her heart.”

  Nneka hissed as she sat down beside her husband, “Your parents did Efe a great wrong. Efe confided in me that your father met her on the corridor of your house the first weekend they met and stated his dislike for her. He pointed at the ethnic tensions, and vowed Efe would only marry you over his dead body...”

  “What! Efe never told me.” Kevwe could feel his blood heat. Efe had told him about not trusting how his father changed after the first day, but she had said nothing about the corridor meeting or his father’s tough words.

  “I think it was because your father changed. Efe said it was as if the incident never happened.” Nneka shook her head. “Remember, we were all so young. That makes what your parents did even worse.”

  Kevwe opened his mouth to talk and tasted salt on his tongue. He put a hand to his face and realized they were tears. The small pause stretched, and he looked up to see Nneka crying too. Dozie put an arm around her.

  She wiped her face with two hands and continued. “To me, even if your father wanted to alienate you, he went about it wrongly. After exams, I had to go and stay with Efe. Her heart was literally broken; she cried so much she became sick. It’s a surprise she survived. I was with their family when she left the country.”

  Nneka stared at him as she continued. “I wasn’t surprised when I heard of her new nickname, the black widow. As I watched her ghostly frame walk out of the airport to the plane, I knew she would never be the same again.”

  The phone’s ringing interrupted her, and Nneka stopped to pick it from the table.

  **

  Efe had come back on the Saturday afternoon flight and gone straight to her boss’s house for debriefing. She had been out of the country for less than a week, but she was dog-tired.

  It had been such a tiring period, with fifteen hours work days beginning as early as seven in the morning, and wrapping up by ten at night. It had been days packed with power dressing, bombastic language, deals and counter deals. None of the hotel branches had wanted its head under the hammer, but the culprit, as Efe suspected, had been someone at MasterCard, so Hilton had been spared the bulk of the blame.

  The man who was at the bottom of the scam, Mr. Fisher, head of technology at MasterCard headquarters in New York, had been so sure of his genius he’d been present at the meetings. A seasoned gambler, he’d been swindling Hilton Worldwide for the high stakes he preferred at the Atlantic City casinos. Efe guessed the man always lost at the machines, but hoped to have a break one day and recoup his losses. He said he intended to pay the stolen money, or borrowed money as he put it.

  Mr. Fisher had carried out the fraud by sometimes recruiting hotel controllers, for a share, or simply going behind them to tamper with their databases. At the meeting, Efe worked with her former team, making investigations and setting traps. At the right time, they’d pounced, and Mr. Fisher could not wriggle out of the net. When the police walked in to take him away, he’d broken down and cried. Several auditors had also been exposed and arrested.

  Her conduct and brilliance had gained her a promotion, and she’d been invited to join the audit team at the head office in California. Thinking of Kevwe, she’d declined the offer but had readily accepted the monetary bonus.

  “Congratulations,” Mr. Akinyele beamed, pumping her hand. “Thanks for your efforts; what would we have done without you?”

  Efe smiled, “You know I love my job,”

  “And you do it so well too.”

  “Thanks,” Efe answered, and stood to leave. Mr. Akinyele followed her to the car. She sank into the bucket seat of the official vehicle, and he closed the door for her. Another gentleman, she thought, as the driver started the engine.

  “Take a week’s casual leave, and rest, okay?” He spoke through the open window, with a fatherly smile. “You look beat.”

  “Thanks for your concern.” Efe smiled, and when the driver moved, she pushed the automatic tab to roll up the window. She waved to Mr. Akinyele just before they turned out of the gates.

  At home, she’d removed her clothes in a daze, took her bath and fell into bed. She drifted off once her head touched the pillow.

  She’d woken up this morning disoriented, if a little bit revived. It was dark outside the curtains, and she wondered if it was still night. When she looked at her bedside clock, she gasped. The time was five in the evening, so she’d been asleep for twelve straight hours. She’d shrugged into her bathrobe and padded into the kitchen. There, she prepared a light meal and ate it on the kitchen worktable.

  Moving into the sitting room, she put on the telly and flipped through the channels, finally settling for the network station for some early morning news. Her eyes soon grew heavy, and she stretched out on the settee. She’d woken an hour ago, refreshed and more like her normal self. She knew the first sleep had been due to exhaustion and stress taking their toll on her system. This one was due to jet lag; her system was still on American Pacific Time.

  She’d put some clothes in the laundry, taken her bath and then gone looking for her phone. There were several missed calls, Kevwe, Nneka, her parents and even the receptionist at the office.

  Nneka answered on the second ring. “Efe, are you home?”

  “Yes, I am,” Efe replied, “I travelled without my phone.”

  “We all guessed as much. But don’t tell me the lack of a phone was the reason you didn’t call your family or me all week. Were there no other phones there?”

  “I’m sorry, work was crazy. I couldn’t call during work, and then the time difference was also a problem,” she explained.

  “Anyway, forget that one for now,” Nneka said. “There’s something else more important.” her voice cut off, and it seemed she’d covered the receiver, and was talking to someone else.

  “You know what, Efe?” Nneka’s voice was loud. “Expect a visit in thirty minutes. I’ll speak with you later.”

  “I hope you’ll come with the baby?” Efe asked, glad Nneka wanted to come. She’d missed her friend. “And you’ll be quicker about it? Your place is not so far away.”

  “Don’t worry,” Nneka replied. “I promise you’re getting a grand surprise. Don’t step out and don’t call out, okay?”

  Efe sat thinking of Nneka’s surprise. Was she pregnant again? What else could it be? She dared not hope it had to do with Kevwe.

  **

  18

  Abuja. December 6, 2009. 3.30pm

  After the phone call with Nneka, Efe went to tidy the kitchen. The washer was done, so she transferred the clothes to the dryer. Her mind jumped from one scenario to the other as she debated calling her family when Nneka had said not to. A smile pulled at her lips, and she told herself to look on the bright side.

  Soon, the doorbell rang and she skipped to get it. When she opened the door, her face froze. Time slowed down, and she didn’t know when she whispered his name.

  “Hello, Efe?”

  She saw the uncertainty written all over on his face, and she stepped away from the door. He entered the room with slow steps.

  “Sit down please,” she invited with a tongue trembling from nerves. Nneka couldn’t have thought of a better surprise.

  Kevwe chose to sit on one of
the armchairs. He didn’t relax but sat forward with his spine straight and his eyes full of remorse.

  “Please sit down,” Kevwe said, kneeling down at her feet when she did. He took both her hands in his, uncurling the fingers which had folded into her palm.

  “Please forgive me. I’ve been wrong all along, so wrong.”

  Efe raised her eyes, tears on her cheeks. “Kevwe, what is this?”

  “I know everything that happened, and I’m sorrier than you can imagine. I called your office the day after our last talk, but I was informed you traveled. Stanley later called with your parents’ contacts, and we went to see them. Ofure and I returned to Abuja yesterday, and were with Nneka and her family when you called.”

  Efe was short of words. She’d known he would follow up with the address she left with Stanley, but not how quickly. “This is definitely a surprise... You did all this in this short time? Wasn’t it just last weekend...”

  Efe broke off as he got up off the armchair and sat next to her on the couch.

  “Efe,” he said, searching her eyes, “I still love you, like I never stopped. I stalled earlier, but no more. I now realize how unfair it was for me to expect we could just move on without a full and frank discussion about all that happened.”

  Efe remembered UniBen, her first meeting with Kevwe, the plans they’d made for a future together. She relived the day she’d thought of as the day her heart died. The events marched past her mind like a kaleidoscope, and tears leaked from her eyes.

  “I’m sorry Efe, please forgive me. It was the agony of the days after the accident, when I called for you by day and cried for you at night, which made me ever doubt you. The emotional wounds of your absence were worse than all the physical injuries I sustained in the crash. I didn’t have any limb amputated, but living without your love in those days, I felt as if a major part of me was gone. I lost all my friends and never cared to connect with them again.”

  Tears flowed from her eyes, and Efe did not stop them. Kevwe paused until their gazes caught, and then the banked fire in his eyes flared into life. He touched her cheek, rubbed the wetness between his fingers, and continued in a stronger voice.

  “I thought the memory of you was another scar I had to bear, except it was on my heart. I thought my love for you was dead, stifled by pain and time. But when I saw you last week, I knew I’d thought wrong. I was shocked, but I couldn’t deny the truth, not for long. I still loved you with all my heart, body and soul. Our lovemaking spoke my heart, it was beautiful. Nothing had happened to me that could compare.”

  Finally, Efe set her heart free from the prison she’d locked it away in for so long. It had broken her into a thousand tiny pieces to consider their lovemaking a mistake, now she felt as if she was free falling. And his love was her safety net.

  Kevwe took both her hands in his. “We called my mother, and she’s ready to explain everything. She admitted to Ofure she knew of my father’s determination to separate us, and wants to explain to us why they sent you away. There’s a flight in about an hour, and Ofure is waiting outside with the car. I could tell you what I find out later, but I think it would be best if we heard the facts from my mother together. Follow me to Benin to speak with her, please....”

  Efe allowed herself to lean into him. Just knowing to what extent he’d gone for her and their love, swelled her heart and soothed her tiredness.

  **

  Benin. December 6, 2009. 6pm

  They barely made it on the only Sunday evening flight to Benin. Ofure called their mother to tell her Efe was with them, and she took his seat beside Kevwe. They did not speak much, but he told her about the first time Ofure had called Benin from Lagos, and how their mother had encouraged them to come, saying it was time she got what happened off her chest. Kevwe did not talk with her then, suspecting he would break down and demand the whole story there and then. Ofure had also agreed with him it was better they went and talked about it face to face.

  After that, both allowed a tense silence envelop them.

  Efe already knew what to expect for the visit to Kevwe’s mum, but she did not know if she was ready to hear it. The few moments of rest she got on the plane were interrupted with memories, some sweet, some painful. She could not think of what to say to him now, but she was ready for what she knew would happen after his mother talked to them. She kept her head in her hands and wiped her nose at intervals.

  Kevwe’s chest felt tight as they neared home. This place held mixed memories for him. What reason could there be for his father’s actions? How could his mother have bought into it? She met them at the door, eyes soaked in tears. Welcoming them with an apologetic smile, she hugged Efe and then Kevwe and Ofure.

  “Efe and Kevwe, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes were swollen, and Kevwe knew she’d probably not slept much in the past few days.

  “Mum, let’s go in,” Ofure said.

  As she followed Kevwe’s mum into the house, Efe looked around and felt like they were back in the UniBen years again. She could not believe how much the older woman had changed. Her voice was a wavering whisper and her clothes hung on her.

  “Did you and Dad plan this between you?” Kevwe asked when they were all seated. The air conditioner was on, but cold sweat made Efe flinch as it ran down between her breasts. She adjusted her blouse and wiped her nose.

  “No we didn’t.” Kevwe’s mother said, shaking her head. “I’m sure your father did not even know it would happen that way; it just did. It was a bad time, you know that.” Her eyes flitted between all three of them, pleading for understanding.

  “Why did Dad hate Efe so much? Why? You told Ofure he was determined I would not marry her?” Kevwe fixed his eyes on Efe while she stared at his mother.

  “It wasn’t about Efe personally.” Kevwe’s mother shook her head. “He didn’t speak about it to you boys, but Kevwe, you lived with us after we moved to Benin. You must have heard him talk about the Itsekiri, especially during the violence in Warri...”

  Kevwe rubbed his brows, his closed eyes fixed on the past. Due to his father’s diplomatic postings, he and Ofure had spent a lot of time in boarding schools. The longest he’d spent with their parents had been those years while in university and even then, he was either at the flat in school or away on business. Still he recalled how his father and Edewor had tried to poison his mind against Efe. His mother’s voice brought him to the present.

  “The beginning of your father’s hatred for the Itsekiri was the crisis of 1952. He was just a young boy then, but the events of that time left a deep scar on him. Warri became volatile when Awolowo changed the title of the Olu of Itsekiri to Olu of Warri. It was supposed to reward the Itsekiri for their votes in the 1952 elections.”

  Kevwe looked at Efe and remembered their discussion with her father in 2001. “The Urhobo went to court right?” he asked. “And I think they won...”

  “They won but failed too,” his mother replied. “They succeeded in getting the name of the Province changed from Warri to Delta Province but failed to get the title of Olu of Warri to revert to Olu of Itsekiri. Even the name was again changed to Warri.”

  Kevwe looked at Efe and Ofure, who listened with rapt attention. “But Mum, what did all this have to do with us, with everything?”

  “Your father buried his scars, but the ethnic violence in 1997 raised old demons. I’m sure they contributed to his death.”

  His mother’s tears reminded Kevwe of her reluctance when his father insisted on returning to Benin in 1999. His heart problems had started then, and his death had also been after another round of Urhobo-Itsekiri violence last August.

  “Did Dad ever suffer a personal tragedy?” Ofure asked.

  “Yes, he did.” Their mother’s sigh filled the room. “You see, the Itsekiri organized a reception for Arthur Prest, the minister who had gotten them the province.”

  Kevwe looked up as she continued, “On Warri-Sapele road, some Urhobo youths attacked and started a riot. The violence spread all th
e way to Sapele and the Itsekiri retaliated. Your father used to live with his parents in Sapele then. His father had gone to their village near the Ethiope River to tend his farm. Some fleeing refugees brought news to Sapele that evening. The rampaging Itsekiri youths had ambushed and butchered your grandfather. Two days later, though your father was just ten, his mother took him with her to the family house under cover of night.”

  Mrs. Mukoro blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She never knew she would be telling this story which her husband, thinking he would die after his heart attack in 1997, had told her. True, he’d meant for her to pass it on, but then, there had been no fear their son would want to marry from the tribe he considered the enemy.

  “When they got to the house, it was looted and vandalized. The grandfather’s remains were strewn in the yard,” she continued, “Your father told me he’d never seen his mother cry like that, ever. She cursed and wailed, and warned him in strong words. “Avoid the people who did this and their people; they will never bring you any good in this life. Never marry them, and your sons, and the sons of your sons!” That was what she said.”

  Mrs. Mukoro raised teary eyes. “Your father grew up, got educated and tried to forgive. But when Warri blew up again, when his sister was almost killed, I think something snapped in him. And then Efe came on the scene.”

  “I told you about Efe first. Why didn’t you tell me?” Kevwe asked his mother. “After Dad’s reaction when he met her, after you guys sent her away, after Dad died, why didn’t you tell me?” Though he now better understood what had driven his father, Kevwe’s anger towards the dead man had not diminished. There was nothing he could do about it, but his mother had to give him some answers.

  “I have no excuse. Please forgive me, Kevwe.” She opened her palms to him and then turned to Efe. “I thought my husband would get to like you for the lovely girl you are. After the bad start, and until Kevwe’s accident, things seemed to be going well...”