“Cynthia, let’s go!” says Dr. Paul in resignation. He can’t stand the demonstrations anymore.
Mama Ngozi is now shouting at them to leave her house and to go to any court they choose. She is still shrieking her annoyance and displeasure, even after they leave and quietly shut the door behind them.
Ben is both numbed and damned by the whole episode, and he merely sits back now to think, and surely anticipate the worst. But he suddenly remembers what money can do for him in this country, and he is not giving up faith entirely. He knows how well his money can speak for him, and he has got enough of it, as well as the right buttons to press here and there.
“Who the hell does he think he is!” Ben quizzes contemptuously. “Dr. Paul had better bring it on, if it is to be war.”
This is just the beginning of an eternal fight.
At home the same evening, it is another long session with Helen. Dr. Paul has just finished narrating the outcome of their visit. His surprised wife cannot believe the reaction of the other woman, by her husband’s description of it. Cynthia also confirms the story as she continues sobbing all the time. She has not stopped crying since they left Mama Ngozi’s house.
Helen is left in disbelief at Mama Ngozi’s purported lack of remorse. “And she even challenged you to take the case to court? This is sordid! She obviously does not seem to know the gravity of her crime. Or she doesn’t even know at all the offense she has committed,” Helen comments. “What kind of a woman is she?”
“Honey, it is obvious that it’s going to be a very long case at the court,” Paul says, “since the offender is still putting up arguments. But we are not relenting! For Christ’s sake, if we keep allowing such cases to be buried, people like that woman will continue to kill our society. Somebody has to do something about it—she has to be put to order. Cynthia does not deserve this. Okechukwu and other children like him should not be mistreated, no matter their difficult circumstances of life. They are just children, for God’s sake!”
Paul feels this way, and justifiably though, because damage to a life is involved. But he may not fully understand Mama Ngozi, because he does not know her well enough to understand the various factors of her makeup. If he did know, he would probably consider that Mama Ngozi needs help.
But a life is involved here, and to his outcry, his wife rightly responds, “You are right, my darling, but what do we do now?” She had been calm and listened to him while he was talking.
“Please, let us leave her alone,” says Cynthia quietly from the corner, with an unexpected self-assurance and renewed strength.
“What?” Dr. Paul and his wife turn to her in unison as they exclaim their surprise.
Cynthia had been sobbing and has also been rather disenchanted while they are talking. But now she is sober. “I mean, she is not ready to accept what she did. There is no point taking it to court. Okechukwu is dead already. Her prosecution cannot bring back my brother. I want God to take care of the whole situation.” She sounds like a very different person.
“No, my dear,” Helen replies in a supporting tone, giving her a searching look. “I understand how you feel,” she adds, trying to understand what made Cynthia say that. Does she really know what she is saying? Helen wonders silently, confused. When Cynthia does not talk again, Helen continues. “I know you don’t want to go through any more stress after the recent happenings, but you don’t have to worry. My husband will take care of it, okay? The lawyers are the ones to speak and defend you at the court. You won’t have to do a thing, except be there to testify and witness the proceedings.”
“Yes, Aunty, thanks for all your love and understanding. But I don’t want to go through it. I’ll get over the trauma with time,” Cynthia insists, crying even more now.
Paul and Helen have been using the word “trauma” around her quite often recently, and Cynthia too is now accustomed to the new word. But does she even know what that means?
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. It’s okay,” says Helen in response to her statement, and she instinctively walks across the room to Cynthia, drawing her into an embrace. She graciously lingers, allowing Cynthia to sob all she can. Helen sees how beaten the girl is, and she really feels her anguish even as it has made her seem bold and resigned. What a lofty burden! It is too lofty even for a very mature mind, let alone for one so tender. “It’s okay, Cynthia, wipe your tears,” she says, dabbing Cynthia’s eyes with her palms. She pulls the girl close to herself and gives her a smile.
But Cynthia cries on still, allowing the tears to flow with ease. Helen holds her steady, consoling her as she keeps her cuddled in her arms.
After a while, as she calms down, Helen says again
“Everything is going to be all right.” Cynthia nods stupidly this time as Helen helps her to sit down. Then she returns to her former sitting position beside her husband, who is watching helplessly with equal empathy.
Helen marvels at Cynthia and wonders if the words she just used have actually come from her. Even the way she talks, Helen cannot help but wonder what kind of person Cynthia will be. She does not know the girl well yet, but she now believes, by some instant conviction, that this girl will be worth the time and resources they will spend on her.
She looks at Cynthia thoughtfully; the girl is sitting quietly and in deep thought. Cynthia’s eyes are still smudged with tears, yet she appears calm and controlled this time. Helen does not know what else to say about Cynthia’s suggestion.
“What a poor situation,” she finally says in resignation, partly believing she will take the case up again later for discussions with her husband.
“I don’t know why, but I want to forgive Mama Ngozi,” Cynthia says anxiously again, like a troubled ghost. “I just want to put her behind me now. She can’t bring Okechukwu to me, can she?” Cynthia said, speaking as if the words she uses are being whispered to her by an unseen intelligence.
Both Dr. Paul and his wife are thrilled and short of words.
“What a girl!” they say at the same time. Or could it just be that she is too young to think coherently in the midst of such upheaval? Does she understand the monetary and emotional compensation she will get if Mama Ngozi is to face prosecution? It seems to Helen, that Cynthia is made feeble-minded by her own sorrows.
It is very difficult, but finally Dr. Paul comes around to agree with Cynthia’s resignation not to fight. “It’s all right, Cynthia. We will do as you say.”
“Everything is going to be all right. Just go to your room now. We would talk more later,” Helen agrees, standing up to nudge the girl gently toward her room.
Cynthia walks slowly to her room and closes the door.
“Cynthia is such a wonderful but totally troubled girl!” Helen observes, sitting down again beside Paul. Helen is particularly touched by Cynthia’s easy forgiveness, which she sees as a great strength. But she is not yet overlooking the fact that the girl’s troubles are many, and she will need as much guidance as possible to be able to survive. But tomorrow is another day for the discussion. They all surely need rest right now, from all the upheaval.
“Yes, she is. Poor girl! May God help us to take good care of her,” says Paul, heaving a sigh of relief and feeling calmer now that she is away in her room.
“Like our own daughter,” Helen adds with emphasis, beaming at her husband with an intimate smile.
“The more I look at her innocence, the more I feel the need to protect her. And I pray I am able to do all the good things I want to do in this life. How beautiful it would be for our world, you know, if we humans would always be nice and good to other people, irrespective of color, class, or economic background. We are all one family, the human race, for crying out loud!” Paul expresses himself anew.
“Thank God, then, for the opportunity you now have in Cynthia to do all that, and even more. And hey, Mr. Paul Goodman! Don’t cry on
me if you want to cry out loud!” she teases, pulling him to her.
Paul laughs a hearty laugh as he falls luckily into her embrace. They roll in each other’s embrace and laugh at their private jokes.
Looking at his wife now, Paul prays silently, thanking God in his heart for giving him such a wonderful gift. Nothing is as beautiful as the gift of a perfect soul partner! He loves his wife very much, and even more every day.
“Oh! God knows I love you so, so dearly,” he says silently while looking at her.
She looks back into his eyes, seeing all the words he wants to say now.
“I love you,” he finally says aloud. Then he gently kisses her mouth.
“I love you too, my darling! Come with me,” she says, sitting up at once. “I know what to do to you right now,” she suggests, instantly transported into her own lust and love, which only Paul can summon, even without warning.
They stand up now, and he obediently follows her to the bedroom. There they make love, and it is just as wholesome, loving and passionate as always, as one would expect from such a lovely couple.
Paul and his wife share a great relationship. Their marriage is a mix of love, friendship, and warm affection that is dotted with various forms of romantic gestures. This scarce combination all but makes their marriage a perfect love bond.
By the next morning, they are discussing Cynthia’s case again. They now resolve between themselves, still in each other’s arms in their bed, that they will have to persuade Cynthia further by making her understand that taking the matter up legally is for the best.
But in the morning, after giving Cynthia the details of how legal action will benefit her and also help in curbing the menace of wanton child abuse in society, Cynthia still maintains her resolve to forgive Mama Ngozi, refusing that the matter be taken up for legal actions.
Paul and his wife cannot quite understand her strong resolve, and as always, they don’t want to do anything without her consent. But they are left without other options. The least they could do now is just love and accept Cynthia, as well as help her recover from her traumatic experiences. Maybe when she fully recovers from the trauma of the events, she might want to use the law to her advantage. But as much as they tried, Cynthia doesn’t want to use it now.
After years of her full recovery; they finally gave up and allow the case to die. It is a pity, but they still live by it, and Cynthia lives stronger and above her pains.
Nineteen
And standing unbelievably before Cynthia right now, at her wedding, is Mama Ngozi. She was uninvited, of course.
Cynthia cannot believe it. From the incident of their last meeting, as she recalls now, Mama Ngozi is the last person she expected to be here.
Mama Ngozi learned about Cynthia’s wedding through one of the dailies. Cynthia is an international attorney now, and she is a society figure. Her wedding plans have been captured by some of the newspapers. It is not a surprise, therefore, that some of them are here still to catch all the events of her wedding for the paparazzi.
The paper Mama Ngozi saw also carried Cynthia’s picture, and Mama Ngozi recognized her. She followed the date ardently and finally traced the venue. Now she is unexpectedly here. She has broken into the venue unattended, like the many other uninvited guests.
Seeing Cynthia in her beautiful flowing white wedding gown, looking very radiant and stunningly beautiful beside Edmond, who is equally handsome, Mama Ngozi’s guilt comes to the foreground. She tries sincerely to place the little Cynthia back then beside this radiant young woman in the rosy wedding dress, but her mind just can’t contain it. The “little thing” has actually grown into something big, and with a great personality! She is twenty-nine now, and Edmond is thirty-six.
Walking toward Cynthia and Edmond, whose hands are locked together, it is difficult for Mama Ngozi to even carry the weight of her own body; the guilt she feels is that heavy within her. She has also changed drastically, but in a downward fashion. No more is she a rich and powerful woman. Judging from the look of the stress lines on her face, and the unpleasant, ill-maintained wrinkles set at the corners of her eyes, she just doesn’t seem like a happy or comfortable woman anymore.
Only God knows what has happened to her, Cynthia thinks, bewildered at the diminished figure of Mama Ngozi approaching. The lady seems more like a fallen woman in her shadows. Where is Mama Ngozi in all her glory? she wonders briefly. Then she says aloud, “Of course I know you. Mama Ngozi!” Cynthia twitters aloud unbelievably when Mama Ngozi stops before them. “What brings you here?” she asks.
“I saw your wedding notice. The moment I saw it, I knew it is God who allowed me to see it. I have been looking for you. Now that I found you, I thank God, and I hope it won’t be in vain,” Mama Ngozi quickly explains.
“How may I help you? Why have you been looking for me?” Cynthia asks.
“I have been looking for where to find you, so I could beg for your forgiveness. I wronged you immensely. Since the day you left my house, the guilt of your brother’s death has never left me. Okechukwu died because of me. Ooh! Please forgive me. Forgive me, my daughter! I know I didn’t treat you well, but please, I beg you to find it in your heart to forgive me. Please!” With deep remorse and shame, she voices her regrets without stopping for a second.
She cries without care, in the presence of over seven hundred invited guests and a thousand extras. She holds her hands around Cynthia’s thighs and is almost kneeling down. She does not want to make a mistake again, and she prayerfully hopes she will be forgiven. Her head tie has fallen off in her unhappy song, but she doesn’t bother to pick it up.
“It’s all right, Mama Ngozi. Don’t kneel for me. I have long forgiven you. Get up, please,” says Cynthia with concern, but she feels a little embarrassed.
“Please, I am so sorry, my daughter,” Mama Ngozi continues in her pleas. She is in tears, completely mortified by guilt and sorrow for her past actions.
Cynthia bends over now to hold the woman’s shoulders steady and to look at her intently. “I’ve tried to clear the thought of you off my mind all these years, telling myself it was Okechukwu’s providence to die and not anybody’s fault. I thank God I succeeded at that. It is so painful, but I didn’t understand why he has to die and leave me. May his soul continue to rest in peace. But I have moved on, Mama Ngozi. Please get up.” This time, Cynthia moves back a bit to allow Mama Ngozi get up.
But Mama Ngozi will not move and remains on her knees, crying. She does not want to be dismissed without being forgiven, as she never envisaged that Cynthia would forgive her so easily. She doesn’t believe her.
But Cynthia is serious. “I loved him and still love him so much, but I couldn’t have stopped him from dying. I had no option but to forget the past, and I forgave you long time ago, Mama Ngozi. Please.”
“But I caused it. I killed him! Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Ooooh!” Mama Ngozi goes off mid-sentence in her own agony.
Cynthia is now embarrassed by her persistence in grief. Yet tears well up a little in her own eyes as memories now flood back unsummoned, like water gushing out of a suddenly broken dam. But she pushes the tears back quickly; she is not going to entertain that, even as she is moved by Mama Ngozi’s repentance.
Only God can forgive anybody’s sins, she thinks. There is nothing she can do about the way Mama Ngozi feels about herself now, or the way she is crying to her as though she is God, except tell her that it is okay and that she holds nothing against her. She did not have the luxury of time to waste begrudging Mama Ngozi in the past, so how can she do it now? She has long gone above retaliations, and she is not going to cry here. Not on her wedding day!
The least she can do is assure this woman that she is free and forgiven. “It’s okay. Get up, Mama Ngozi. Everything is all right now,” she says after a while.
While she is still talking, Lady D., who is in the
audience, suddenly breaks out from among the invited guests. She is approaching them now, probably to help Mama Ngozi up. She is here also, by invitation, and she is grateful to the contacts made from the news that carried Cynthia’s wedding plans to her.
Lady D. has long been married and now has four kids. Her latest, a chubby twenty-month-old, is at home with the other two that are under the care of their paid nanny. But her eldest, a nine-year-old boy called Bobo, is here in the audience with her. She came to the wedding looking as outlandishly prim and well made up as always. Her scarlet painted lips, being a pronounced contrast to her dark complexion, makes her quite outstanding among the guests. Her dress is but a red mini gown, which accentuates both her height and beauty as it gives her body a tentative hug. Perfectly drawing good attention to her well-rounded shape as she walks, the short, silky lace gown she is wearing generously exposes her long and slender legs, which are resting on a matching pair of clapping high-heel sandals. Her dear boy is equally not left out in her characteristic nitpicky style and dress sense.
Lady D. reaches the centerfold where Mama Ngozi is kneeling and crying to both the compassion and embarrassment of all, and she pulls up her old friend and leads the way out of the reception area, toward the direction of a guest restroom outside. Bobo readily trots off with them, clutching his mama’s purse as he bubbles along.
There, Lady D. pulls some tissue from her purse and helps Mama Ngozi to clean up. She comforts the woman until she is calmer. From here, they move to the parking hall to locate Lady D.’s car. It is a much-appreciated moment to catch up once again, after such a long time. They sit and talk in the comfort of Lady D.’s car, having a real woman-to-woman chat.
One Love, Many Tears Page 21