Page 12

F or Uncle Jude's vault at emerald vaults, Timi had chosen the special package.

Roomier space with marble walls, high double glass doors, and an open-roof design with steel beams. Death was a leveller, but money upheld dignity.

And Timi had spent, convincing himself it was all for his father and not to lessen his guilt.

As he walked across the sprawl of well-tended vegetation and polished graves, he ignored the stares from the scanty visitors, and the man beside him.

At the entrance, Hulk leaned against the wall.

Timi turned back to insist he returned to the car, but his words died in his throat.

Despite the cool air, beads of sweat dotted Hulk's forehead and slid down the side of his face.

His hands were fisted by his side, and he seemed to be clenching his teeth.

Timi had no idea what he was witnessing. “What's up?” he asked, reluctantly. He shouldn't care what demons the man was fighting. He had his own.

Hulk stared at him blankly, then blinked. “Nothing. Yeah. Please, go ahead.”

Nonplussed, Timi headed for the large charcoal portrait hanging from the polished headstone.

He dug his finger between the line where glass met the frame's metal edges and heaved a sigh when he brushed rubber.

He pinched and pulled out the band he thought he would never wear again.

Staring at the faded brown, he sank on top of Uncle Jude's head protected by six feet of sand and black marble. Knees, pulled up to his chest.

As he slipped the band onto his left wrist, a voice rang in his head.

“I see you're wearing your band. Does it mean you've been taking your medicine, and going straight home after work? Have you done all I've asked you to? ”

It hadn't meant that. The band represented the possibility of a life absent of fear. A life he dreamed of in the throes of disobedience.

“I don't know what to do, Unc,” he whispered.

“Someone suggested…no, more like rudely demanded I talk to you, so here I am.

All these nice people are here ready to help, yet I feel so…

helpless. It's business as usual for them.

Do an interview, create diversion hashtags, recruit influencers, promote a new project, show them my life didn't pause for a second.

But…how can I pretend everything hasn't crashed?

And the one thing I could do to make this go away, I couldn't. Do you regret taking me as your son, Uncle?”

“I should have met you sooner, Eyi. So, you wouldn't have the chance to forget just how important you are. Because you are. Important. Unique. Loved. ”

Timi folded into himself, a broken sob gripping him by the throat. “Uncle…”

“You're still you, irrespective of what happened to you. No one can take you from you. You're there, somewhere. You only need to take control and find you. ”

“Uncle,” Timi choked, eyes stinging. “Dad…

I only liked the me I was with you. It was nice.

Sometimes, happy. Because of you, I got it all.

B…but it never…I felt empty most times. Was it because I didn't love you enough?

Why couldn't I believe you were all I needed? I was going to find that…me, you know? Was so sure he would be this nice guy you would have been so proud of. But here I am again, unable to show you how much I love you. What if I return to…him? What if I hurt you further?”

The voice stayed silent as Timi sniffed into his elbow. He'd found it difficult talking about his feelings to Uncle Jude, yet somehow, the man could not only read his silence but knew the right words he needed for each moment. If he was alive, what advice would he give?

“ Social media? An aromatized cesspool. Ignore it. You know what is true for you and that's all that matters. You should only reveal what you want to, when you want to. No one has the right to make you do what you're not ready for.”

“But not now, Dad. Not now.”

“How's it going?” A deep voice came on.

Timi swiped at his face with his sleeves and raised his head. Hulk leaned against the door frame, looking less sweaty, but his face still held a queasy grimace.

“The fact that he's dead isn't helping,” Timi muttered.

“I never meant your father. Though coming here’s still good thinking.”

“Who, then, do I need answers for?”

“You. What is best for you and the situation, not what others think.”

Oh. “Not even my father?”

Hulk leaned away from the gate. “You knew him best.”

Timi dropped his legs. “Ignoring isn't an option.”

Footsteps approached, and Timi found himself tensing up. Asides the Emerald staff, no one came in here. In fact, he couldn't remember having this kind of conversation with anyone. What was it about Nejeere's boyfriend that got his mouth leaking?

“I didn't ask you to come in,” Timi mumbled, when the man sank beside him. His butt stopped short of encroaching into the dip .

“Death scares me,” Hulk said. “One more moment of staring at those graves, you may have found my unconscious body.”

Timi fumbled at the stark honesty. “You're sitting on a grave.”

Hulk shrugged, shirt stretching against the slope of his broad shoulders. It seemed sacrilegious pink would look like anything other than a hot mess on a grown man. “I know the one in here. If there's anyone deserving of swallowing my fear, it's your father.”

A sudden barrage of warmth coursed through Timi.

“His medical outreaches. Cancer awareness programs. Refusing offers from top hospitals. Communities, still singing his praises. A hero in the same class as Dr. Ameyo.”

As Hulk talked, the words slid over him like cold aloe gel on a jagged bruise. He could sit for hours just listening to the reasons that made Uncle Jude his god.

“You should add rescuing a seventeen-year-old boy to the list,” he said when Hulk stopped speaking, then went rock still. “Uh…I don't know why I—”

Hulk leaned further in. “I read somewhere, honesty mirrors honesty. I shared my fears; your fear must have caught on.”

Timi stared at him. He never would have imagined him like…

this. Not talkative per se, just...expressive.

As every word seemed to carry great significance, like he'd weighed them and deemed them worthy of falling out of his voice box.

This was the longest they'd talked, yet Timi could swear a blood oath the man never lied.

“So, you go around wearing your fears on your sleeves?” Timi asked.

“You're the first person I ever told that,” Hulk said.

“I see. You're sharing so I can share.”

Hulk turned to him. “By tomorrow, we'll go back to being strangers. A back and forth on some fears wouldn't hurt anyone. It's relieving, and you're sure you won't have to face any post-clarity embarrassment once I disappear.”

He almost sold Timi on the idea, till he remembered who he was, who the man worked for and dated, his whole damn situation. “Nice try. Tell your boss, nice try. ”

Hulk held his gaze. Unlike Timi’s dark eyes, his were brown. A swirly brown abyss that sparked a feeling of trespassing the longer Timi stared into them.

He swallowed. “What?”

“I train Agu's men on weekends. It's a temporary arrangement.”

Timi lowered his gaze. No wonder they'd never met. He tried to keep his weekends free of Agu's presence. “You teach them to fight?”

“I have some…skills he agreed to pay for. I go there, Saturdays and Sundays. Train with the men for three hours, then bounce. He offered full employment, but I declined. I know nothing about his business, and I was going to tell you once I resumed fully.”

“So, your fighting skills…”

Hulk stayed silent for a moment, then sighed. “I acquired them for reasons I'd rather forget. I'd rather you keep this between us.”

“You think I'm a blabbermouth?”

Hulk leaned backwards; palms flattened on marble surface. “If I thought so, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I…uh…appreciate how far you've kept the knowledge to yourself.”

He was referring to Nejeere. What kind of relationship did they have? He'd never been in any, but wasn't openness the bedrock of a great one?

He reached out to trace Uncle Jude's name etched on the black slab in golden letters.

His family had insisted Timi replaced Lawson with the family name Dressman.

And Timi, for the first time, had weaponized his influential status.

Which he wouldn't have done, if he believed their concerns were for his uncle's benefit, and not because they hoped it made Timi feel less of a family.

How foolish. Dr Jude Dressman would have made the perfect SHUT UP in the history of rumour quashing.

People discussing loudly beyond the gate interrupted the silence stretching between him and Hulk. Exposing the jarring antithetical moods within and without. And Timi found himself despairing for an identical atmosphere even as he barely knew the person beside him .

“His family hates me,” he began haltingly. “Seeing as he resisted their attempts to marry him off after his wife died and went on to adopt a strange boy. One they believed would be his downfall.”

Beside him, Hulk held himself still, as though to keep his presence from intruding on Timi's soliloquy, granting him the courage he needed to allow the words flow.

“They also hated his work. If he wasn’t practising medicine to make loads of cash, what was the point?

One day, he took me to a family function as usual.

I was in Year 2 or 3, I think. When the photographer called for a family photo, and he dragged me close, his siblings raised the roof. You know what he did?”

“Offered the photographer half a million for his memory card, and wiped out all the pictures of the occasion?” Hulk weighed in.

He choked on a startled laugh. “What?”

“It's what I'll do. If I had the money, that is.”