Port Heya Chapter 5

5

“Oh, honey.” Zuri reached across the hospital’s cafeteria table and patted her husband’s hand. “That sounds awful. Does the man have no filters?”

“I swear, hun, I could hardly contain the urge to reach over and squeeze the life out of him with his stupid ascot.”

“Bokole dons an ascot? Mama Mia. What a weirdo. But you didn’t, did you? Please hun, please tell me you didn’t strangle the man who signs your cheques.”

“Not anymore, he won’t.”

Zuri sighed with relief. “Thank God, for that. Now, what we need to do is work on damage control.”

Kwame frowned. “Damage control?”

“There’s bound to be some sort of fallout from your… your escapade, for luck of a better word, don’t you think?”

He disengaged his hand from hers. “What happened to Sheena?”

“Who?”

He attempted a terrible imitation of Zuri. ““To hell with your meek wife, Kwame. You should march into the Chancellor’s office and give him a generous piece of your mind.” That Sheena.”

“I didn’t think you were going to do it.”

“What did you expect I’d do?”

“Not follow my words to the letter, Kwame. I supposed you’d be more… tactful, not to tear your boss a new one.” Her brow creased in contemplation.

“What now?” Kwame asked.

“This morning, I had this weird feeling. Call it a woman’s intuition, educated hunch or… I don’t know. A sort of foreboding, you know? Like you were going to…”

“Act a fool?”

“To do something rash. I even tried calling you but your phone was dead.”

He exhaled. “Well, too late for all that.”

“Too late for what?”

“What did you call it, damage control? The fallout is rather permanent.”

A large invisible weight descended upon Zuri’s shoulders. Against all good judgment and fearing the worst, she heard the words she least wanted to utter tumble out of her mouth. “Hun, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I quit.” Once more, Kwame exhaled deeply, and with the outrush of air went the wretched load he had borne throughout the one-hour drive from the college to the hospital. “Wow! That felt good.”

“But it shouldn’t.” Zuri’s hands shook. “It shouldn’t, Kwame. You must go back and do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Beg? Grovel? Between the mortgage and the kids’ private tuition… You know we can’t afford to keep going on my salary.”

Kwame lay his hands on hers. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll find a way.”

She withdrew her hands, sat back, and stashed them into her armpits.

‘Oh, c’mon, dear,” he pleaded. “Not the mope.”

“I’m serious, Kwame. I won’t have you throwing our lives away because you had a ‘moment’”. She drew air quotes around the last word and proceeded to her feet. “I have to go back to work.”

He reached out but she was too far for his groping fingers. “Wait, Zuri. There’s more.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t do this, Kwame, not right now.”

“Please, sit down.”

“Yeah? Don’t you think you’ve ruined my day enough as it is?”

“But this is good news.”

“Great!” Zuri flapped her arms. “Why did I not think of that? Behind every quitting comes good news.” She planted her hands on the table and drilled her eyes into his. “What’s the good news, dear husband, you don’t get to go to prison?”

“No, dear wife, the good news is, I have a new job.”

Zuri did not move a muscle, not even a twitch.

“It’s in a small town called Port Heya,” Kwame went on in his most placating voice. “We’ll need to relocate, but that’s not the best part.” Still eliciting no reaction from his wife, he pushed on. “I’ll be head of the archaeology department, hun. Me. Head of department, not toiling under humanities or some other dopey boss.”

Zuri blinked. “Are you done?”

“There’s a nice private school for the kids, and guess what? The college will cover most of the tuition.”

“Oh, really? Lemme guess. And since you’ll be making oodles of money, I won’t have to bother working. I’ll be home baking pies and singing in the rain. Am I getting warm?”

“There’s no call for sarcasm, Zuri.”

“But there is call for lies? Is this how you intended to placate me? By feeding me flimflam?”

“I’m serious. There’s an open position for head of paediatrics in the local hospital.”

“Really?” Zuri resumed her seat. “This I’ve got to hear. So tell me, hun, how did you manage to bag us all these wonderful jobs immediately after you got fired? Sorry, after you quit your current job?”

For a few seconds, he allowed her to simmer, savouring what he hoped would be a coup d'etat and not the more likely calm before the violent storm.

“Last week, or was it two weeks ago?” he said calmly. “I got a call from a friend. Or should I say, an acquaintance, back in college.”

“Which friend?” She counted off her fingers. “Hakim? Omare? Hassan? I know all your friends. Or maybe it’s Addo, the dimwit who changes the oil in your car.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Tell me that again when I accept his offer to fake a medical conference and accompany him on a weekend to Zanzibar.”

“He did that?” Kwame rolled a fist. “That goddammed b*****d! Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Like you told me about the offer from your so-called ‘friend’ from college?”

“I wasn’t gonna take him up on it, Zuri. I only talked to him yesterday and he assured me the position is still open. Don’t you see? This is a good opportunity for us to leave this godforsaken city and start over afresh.”

For a long while she said nothing. Then she sighed deeply and stood up. “Kwame, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying and when you’re not.”

“But I’m not lying.”

“I know! And that’s what scares me to the bone, because you know damm well there’s no way I’m quitting my job and my life here to follow your dream to some mythical village. But be warned, if you insist on�"”

The overheard intercom chimed on. “Paging Dr Adala. Paging Dr Adala. Please report to ICU, stat.”

“Well,” Zuri said, “saved by the bell. I guess one of us has to work, right? I’ll see you at home, Kwame.”

She turned and left.

Zuri could be as stubborn as a mule if she so wished, and swaying her had always been an uphill task. As Kwame watched her walk away, he wondered what remained in his arsenal to sell her on his proposed relocation. After several fruitless minutes, he left the table and paid for their chai and mandazi. At the door, on his way out, he ground to a halt as if he had run into an invisible wall. A gem of an idea had crept into his mind.

I’ll arrange for a conference call with Juma. That should convert her.

He removed the flip phone from his pocket. Though it had a full charge that morning, it was stone-cold dead.