IRENE'S POV
I got home and pushed open the big mahogany door that led into the living room, completely ignoring Jidah, my personal house help as she reached for my purse.
"Do you need anything ma'am?" Her voice echoed slightly as we walked up the stairs.
Her head bowed and her gaze lowered, a gesture of practiced inferiority.
"No, Jidah, find something else to occupy yourself with." I dismissed her and she hurriedly walked down the stairs away from me.
Is that cigarette smoke I smelled? My attention shifted to the wine bar, some steps away from the stairs overlooking the first-floor balcony.
"Uncle Richmond!" I called out, delightfully.
I wondered whether I was happy to see him or just happy to know that he isn't far from reach anymore.
"Velvet..." his smile widened to the nickname he gave me since I was little or so he said.
His words are barely audible with a cigarette still tucked in between his teeth.
"When did you get back?" I asked casually, settling into the seat beside him with my purse carelessly tossed onto the table.
I reached for the bottle of our finest wine and began to fill his glass until he hand brushed mine and held the bottle of wine in place, stopping me mid-pour.
My smile faded.
I set down the wine glass, resuming my seat.
"Is there a problem?" A question I threw at people when indeed I knew there was a problem.
He ashed his cigarette into a tray then held out his hands.
My palm rested on his and I tried to read his eyes, to know what was going through his mind.
"I heard you're going to therapy now… How soft of Frederick." His husky, rough and low voice that betrayed the wiry frame of a man in his fifties.
His breath reeked of tobacco and traces of nostalgia hung in the air. A smell so familiar it tugged at memories I haven't invited.
"He's certain I need it, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do." I said, my eyes hovering over his face.
Why was he back all of a sudden? Even after Beth's death, especially during her burial, he never came. Not once, not a message. Not a call and now here he was.
There had to be a reason he came back. The heat of the entire situation had finally gotten to him wherever he had been hiding so he came running back.
Men are pathetic!
"I've been seated for an hour now and Fredrick isn't out yet."
A piece of information I didn't need.
"Maybe he is busy in his office, I will let him know you're here." I said, reaching for my purse.
I stood up and walked away through the hallway until the voices from the next room made me stop
"God! Fiona, I'm not the president of America!" My father's voice crashed into the silence.
"But you can make this happen, Frederick I'm not going to sit down and watch what we've built for decades crumble." My mom replied. Her voice, hard and urgent.
What could they be planning?
All they ever did was throw parties when things got out of hand and beg for alms under the guise of fundraising for NATO.
I often wondered if those poor kids ever received a fraction of what they claimed to raise.
Their argument felt like hot lava seeping out through the cracks of the door.
Then suddenly they went quiet as if they had realised I was by the door.
I quietly walked into my room and shut the door behind me while I rang Jidah's phone.
"Hello ma'am" She sounded calm even over the phone.
"Tell father that Uncle Richmond is waiting"
"Sure ma'am" She replied and hung up.
My eyes hovered around the room and they came to rest on a picture of Beth and I.
I grabbed it and walked my way to the bed. Her face looked beautifully lit in this particular picture.
We were at a friend's party, not just a friend, we were at serene's 21st birthday party.
She had worn a short black skirt and a blue crop top that matched her ocean blue eyes. She had this gorgeous smile that melted the heart of the one I loved.
Behind her but not too clear was Jonathan, holding Beth's friend, Gracie, by the arm and I could still remember how mad I was when I saw his arms around Gracie's shoulder.
Hence why I looked like I was forced to take the picture.
I left the picture facing the wall and turned to work on my system when my phone rang.
"Hi Serene."
"Sylvia, I need you to tell Mr Frederick that my dad has just been rushed to the hospital." Her voice trembled with urgency and worry
I could hear her breaking down and I knew she must be biting on her nails right now.
"What happened? I will do that right now." I replied, assuringly while also wanting to know the gravity of the situation.
I don't think I need it though.
"He passed out in the living room today, he got a call from someone."
"Who?"
"I have no idea, he is…. My dad is in a very bad state." Serene busted into tears.
I was already out the door, headed towards the wine bar when suddenly my dad slammed the office door open.
"Dad… Serene's dad is…"
"I know honey… your mom and I are on our way now." I nodded as I watched him hurry down the hallway.
"I will join you guys…"
I yelled after them, rushed to my room, picked a few things and I headed down for the door.
Something caught my attention. A movement too visible even a blind man would notice.
I stopped, my eyes peering through the cracks of the slightly opened office door. I could see the shoes.
Without a doubt I walked into the office and there he was, tearing through my dad's file like a frantic chicken, scratching through piles of dirt for a single grain.
My breath caught. I didn't speak– not yet.
I needed him to feel seen before I made him speak.
"Uncle.."
He turned around so fast it's a miracle his neck didn't snap.
"Uh Velvet…I…" The words tangled in his throat.
His palms were undoubtedly sweaty knowing I had caught him in an awkward position.
I couldn't help but smirk, so now they are all scrambling to shield themselves from the storm they conjured? The same storm they once directed at others?
They are all trying to dodge the bullet they loaded themselves– into a gun that never misses.
What was he trying to protect? He has nothing to lose.
A man like him frail and insignificant had nothing left but his brother.
An awkward smile crept up his face like that of a little child trying to hide a snack you had just caught them pocketing.
"Frederick told me to check out some files." He stammered,
His words barely came out of his mouth as if biting hard on his sluggishness and inability to complete such a simple task.
He was clearly removing his own records prepping for the day of reckoning.
"Oh! Really." I said, voice light but laced with intent and he nodded quickly forgetting his fingers were still on the drawer.
"Yes…." His breathing stabilised.
"Well, except it's a highly confidential file then you shouldn't be checking that.." I said.
His smile faltered.
"Oh yes of course." He replied, letting go of the drawer.
"George is terribly ill, I wonder why my dad would be needing a file when he's at the hospital."
His pupil twitched. That was all I needed.
He wouldn't be seated over an hour in the wine bar if he actually wanted to meet him.
How pathetic can this get?
"Oh yeah George is terribly ill" He replied, feigning concern but it wasn't convincing.
"Yeah…" I replied quietly.
He stepped away and slipped out of the office, retreating like a child caught with his hands in a jar of secret.
"I can drop you at the hospital, you know." I called after him but he waved me off without looking back.
Downstairs just before leaving I met Jidah scrubbing the floor.
"Did you tell dad that uncle was waiting for him?" I asked.
"No, Sir Richmond told me not to."
That was all the confirmation I needed.
I left the house with more questions than answers and a storm brewing in my chest.
At the hospital, I saw my dad seated quietly at the reception area.
"How's he?" I asked
He just shook his head.
I turned around, my eyes suddenly itchy almost as if they were filled with guilt.
What on earth is this feeling? How could I feel this way?
Then I saw her.
Serene.
Her eyes were as red as the blood moon from the mythology books I devoured as a child.
Her mother had held her close, burying her cries in her trembling shoulders and her sobs echoed through the hospital corridor.
She looked up at me and for the first time since Beth's death I felt everything at once. The need to cry, the urge to laugh and the clarity to remain calm amidst chaos.
I walked towards her, her eyes spoke a million words.
They said, "Sylvia, now I know what it feels to lose someone you love."
Her pain mirrored mine, the same ache, the same silence after the screams.
Yet, who am I to stop what I've started.
A path I've chosen. A journey that's worth every single step.