CHAPTER THREE
I stretched tiredly in the back seat of my Lincoln Navigator, lulled by the movement of the car. I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep. Just ten minutes would do, at least for now. As I closed them, I was plagued with visions of a pain-filled Aretha. She had not been able to sleep at all last night. She had tossed and turned, holding her stomach and groaning in pain. Even the strong pain killers given to her by the doctor had not worked. I felt helpless as I had sat beside her. I couldn't even hold her close anymore as her body temperature was through the roof.
Her fever had broken sometime in the early hours of the morning and she had finally stopped clutching her stomach, but the worst was not over. As doe-eyed as I was and as much as I wanted it to be so, I couldn't hide away from the fact anymore.
My wife was dying.
The truth grabbed me by the hair and slapped me in the face. That was when the hysteria came. I lurched out of our room, the same room we had spent many nights making love and planning for the future. I didn't know when I stumbled into junior's room, a room that had never housed a child. A child that was killing my wife.
I knew what rage meant at that moment, or maybe for one hour. I started with the wooden cot fit for a king's child. It sat grand and majestic, mocking me with its emptiness. I didn''t know where I got a hammer from, but I rammed it into it until it was but a wooden pile of crap on the carpeted floor. Next, I went for the fittings on the wall and wrenched all of them off. Nothing escaped my wrath, nothing was spared. By the time I was done, the room was in a mess, and that eased my heart, but only for a few minutes.
After that, the pain came back in full force. Worse than before.
The car jerked to a stop, breaking me out of my reverie.
"Boss, we have a situation upfront."
I groaned and opened my eyes to see chaos. A short distance ahead of us a crowd of people had gathered, but try as much as I craned my neck, I couldn't see anything. I checked my time. I only had ten minutes to spare. I couldn't not make the meeting on time.
"Stay!" I said to Eric, and got down from the car.
I had only gone four paces forward when I stopped and looked down at the clothes I was wearing. Blue tailored pinstriped trouser suit with gold cufflinks worn with pure leather crocodile loafers. I looked around the neighborhood we had stopped and thought better of my hair-brained idea of going to check out what the problem was.
As I still stood, pondering over what to do, an ambulance arrived and the crowd opened up to allow them carry the stretcher through. I caught a glimpse of a woman lying on the ground, her head twisted in an awkward angle, and then blood, so much blood, it put Aretha's problem to shame. And then the crowd was closing in on her once again.
It didn't take long before the police came next, blaring their sirens to my consternation. They cordoned off the area around the woman.
I waited. I don't know why. It wasn't like I hadn't seen blood before, but just watching that woman lying inert on the ground brought something to life inside of me. To my left was a long haulage trailer. All the huge containers on it were on the ground and their contents had been spilled all over the ground. Oil. That made passing this route impossible.
I turned and walked back to my car, but something caught my attention and I stopped and turned back. Underneath the trailer, a woman's purse lay. A few meters beside it lay some other items scattered in the dirt, obviously spilled from it. I knew the purse belonged to the woman who was lying bleeding out on the ground.
I didn't want to think about it because if I did, I probably wouldn't have rushed towards the trailer. I saw a part where the police hadn't cordoned off, and I slid underneath. I knelt down and assessed what lay scattered around on the dirt. A lipstick, her social security card and a few other knick knacks women put in their purses. I picked them all up and put them back into her purse.
As I turned, ready to walk away with her purse, something else caught my eyes, something that lay a few paces away. A picture. I bent and crawled towards it, intent on just picking it and shoving it inside the purse when I froze. Within the lines and pixels of the picture, lay a familiar face that stared back up at me.
My face.
I looked in wonder and shock at it.
How did my picture get here?
What was it doing lying in the dirt beneath a trailer?
Unless. . .
The wheels in my mind began to spin. I spun round and looked over to where the crowd had begun to thin out around the woman. The paramedics had put her on a stretcher and had her neck supported by a brace.The fact that she wasn't dead didn't mean she was going to last till the next morning.
I shook my head to rid it of my morbid thoughts and began the calculations from the distance where she lay to where the trailer stood.
Once I was done, I came to the conclusion that my picture was inside the woman's purse and because of the impact of the collision with the trailer, it flew out and landed a few meters from it.
That was the only plausible reason I could see and think of.
I knew what I had to do.
I pocketed my picture, grabbed her purse from the ground where I had dropped it, and got out from under the trailer. I intercepted the ambulance as they were about closing the door.
"Hi! My name is Alexander Moore." I brought out my company ID card and showed it to the woman. "She's my secretary." I pointed to the woman on the stretcher.
The lie had jumped easily to my lips.
The woman glanced briefly at me from top to bottom and then she looked at me again, this time slower. "What did you say your name was?"
My brows squeezed together. "Moore. Alex Moore."
The woman took a step back and looked behind me. "Where are your bodyguards?"
"My who?" What was she mouthing off about?
"You mean you don't move around with bodyguards?" She looked at my ID card still in her hands and then looked up at me. A look of reverence jumped into her eyes. "It's really you, Mr. Alexander Moore of Raften pharmaceuticals. I'm so pleased to meet you, you don't know how much of an honor it is to see you in the flesh, and you're such a simple man as well."
I didn't know what I would do if she continued her blabbering.
Her colleague joined us, his brows squeezed together. "What's the hold up about?"
I collected my ID card back from the woman and faced the man. "My secretary." I bobbed my head towards the back of the ambulance.
I saw the respect instantly jump into his eyes as he looked me up and down. "You can follow us behind, sir, we're going to Almond hospital on 23, Creek road, it’s actually not far from here."
I nodded. I briefly remembered seeing a hospital on the drive here.
I fast-walked to my car. "Change of plans, Eric, follow that ambulance."
"But, boss, what about your meeting?" Eric glanced at me from the rear view mirror. I could see the shock lining his eyes.
"I'll call Kelly to cancel. This is important."
I saw the struggle in his eyes to continue arguing, but he chose the wise route and didn't. "As you wish, boss."
I nodded to myself and sank back into the plush leather seats as Eric made a U-turn and began following the ambulance closely. I had begun to feel the effect of not sleeping at all.
Aretha always said. . .
I shook my head to stop myself from thinking of her. Instead, I focused on why a recent picture of mine, the one that had been taken during the Tokyo seminar of the scientists, was doing in the purse of a woman I had never set my eyes on before.
I had a very good memory, one that helped me get to the level I was at today. I racked my brain to see if she had been among the protocol team that welcomed us last year, but I came up empty.
Then maybe an overzealous woman that came for an interview as a lab assistant a month ago?
Naah! Couldn't be. How could she even have gotten my picture in the first place?
From one of the many magazines in the lobby on which my face was splayed on. Yeah, but the picture I currently had in my possession was a real picture, not cut out from a magazine.
I gave up when all of the options I thought off fell through.
After about twenty minutes of moving behind the ambulance, the hospital loomed ahead, big and daunting. I gritted my teeth in frustration. I had enough of hospitals to last me a lifetime. I watched as the two men came down from the ambulance and opened the door at the back. Three nurses poured out through the hospital doors to assist them, and they wheeled the unresponsive woman on the stretcher inside.
I gave them ten minutes to find her an available room, hook her up to the IV and take her vitals before I came down from the car. I stretched, arching my back and sighing in pleasure as a bone popped into place in my waist.
It was show time.
I strolled to the front desk and pasted on my 'showman' smile. The lady behind it blushed and immediately directed me to the emergency ward. There, I encountered another administrative officer who seemed immune to my smile. She, however, directed me to a doctor who explained to me the situation with the woman that had just been brought in.
"You say she's your staff, Mr. . ."
"Moore, Alexander Moore, CEO of Raften Pharmaceuticals."
Once again, respect danced into his eyes and he became more aware of his words.
"I'm afraid your staff doesn't look to be in good health. She's got blunt head trauma caused by the head-on collision when she hit the ground. The reason why she's not yet dead is because she was wearing a helmet. The accident would definitely have caused her other bodily harm which I haven't yet ascertained. For now, she's not yet out of the woods so we're observing her."
"Please, see you give her an all-around-the-clock observation. I'll pay for all and any bills accrued. Matter of fact, I'll leave a check before I go that will cover all the expenses, and if there's any more, this is my card, don't hesitate to call me."
The doctor took the card from me and nodded. I don't know why I did it, I didn't know the woman from Adam but I was curious about how she had gotten my picture.
Call it fate or stupidity, but I didn't want her to die.
The doctor said he would call and update me in the evening about her situation, if anything changed.
I left the hospital feeling better than I had felt ever since Aretha was diagnosed with womb cancer.
THE DIAGNOSIS The call came in the night while I was fast asleep holding Aretha. It was one of those rare moments where she had not thrashed all through the night. I checked that she was still breathing and quietly slipped out of bed making sure not to wake her. It wasn't every day I got to have the luxury of holding her close, so naturally I was upset when once I got into junior's bedroom, I picked the call. "Hello, is this Mr. Moore?" The strange clinical voice asked. After revealing my identity to the caller, he introduced himself as doctor Rogers from Almond hospital. I had a flash back of a medium sized man in a blue scrub underneath a white lab coat. "I'm afraid the diagnosis doesn't look too encouraging, sir. Your secretary has blunt head trauma, five cracked ribs a fractured hip and a punctured lung. She might not last tonight. Even if she does, it will be extensive work to make her whole again; she will need physiotherapy to learn how to work again, she might or might not
THE FUNERAL Aretha's condition took a turn for the worse and I was called in by the specialist. One look at her and I knew she wasn't going to last the night. He left me alone by her bedside but all I could do was stand and stare. She was all skin and bones having stopped eating over a month ago. She lay asleep looking deceptively peaceful, but I knew that was only a ruse, for when the pain came, it was like an avalanche. I didn't know when my feet moved me forward and I knelt in front of her and caressed her balding head. She opened her eyes and in a moment of clarity, smiled at me. "I love you, Alex." I smiled through the tears in my eyes, happy she had recognized me, but a few seconds later, she closed her eyes and drew her last breath. "No, no, no, no, you can't leave me, you can't." I got a hold of her and shook her hoping she would wake and tell me 'surprise' like she used to do when she was hale and hearty. Unfortunately, that never happened. I broke down completely, sobb
AFTERI woke the following morning wondering how I had gotten into my bed. Memories of the day before assailed me and despair hit me all over again like a flower in full bloom.I closed my eyes as tears filled them. I was too damn emotional for a man. I squeezed my eyelids, feeling the pain flare up behind them. I sighed and opened them again. All around me, traces of Aretha had all but vanished. The matching golden filigree bedside lamps she bought, the two gilt high backed chairs in front of the bed, the pure cotton bedsheets she favored over the silk one's I preferred. Even her clothes, shoes and all of her ornaments, every single item, I had given to charity.They were a painful reminder of what was meant to be, but wasn't.My eyes widened when they fell on the curtains.Who in their right mind would agree to have sunshiny yellow curtains?Aretha, that's who.She had always loved the colour yellow. Not just any shade of yellow. It had to be the exact shade of the sun - yellow with
THE VISIT". . .so I punched him in the face.""But why did you punch him in the face, Mr. Moore?" The policeman cocked his head like he was expecting to hear something along the lines of well, because after x and y, the next alphabet wasn't z.I stifled the look of irritation creeping up on my face and answered tiredly. "Because he was badmouthing my wife and talking about her in a disrespectful way. You don't get to talk bad about a man's wife and expect not to get punched in the face."The five police men looked at each other and nodded. "He's right." One of them announced."But where were you exactly?" The one in the middle asked.I lifted my hands that were propped on my knees and put them on the table. The policemen close to my left must have thought I was going to bring out a weapon or something, because his hand went to the waistband of his trousers and hovered there. When he saw all I did was change posture, he relaxed, but I noticed his attention was drawn to my knuckles.Pa
THE OTHER SIDECould this morning get any messier?Twice, I had spilt tea on two different ties, and twice, I had changed them. Two charcoal grey ties that would have immediately screamed elegant.I blamed the two cups of tea I had binge-drunk in a fit of anxiety. The offending items sat on my bedside table looking deceptively innocent.The question that had been creeping into my head after I removed yet the second tie, was what was I going to wear?I was meant to meet with some members from the DEA today at my laboratory and I didn't want to mess it up like I had done the last time. The first impression was nothing to write home about, so the second one had to be near-perfect."Why don't you wear another tie?" The robot asked from behind me.I had put back the microchip I removed back into it's head because I felt guilty and wanted to apologize. Not to the robot, but to Aretha, my wife. I knew she wouldn't like me shutting down the gift I bought for her.I stood in front of the full
THE ENDORSEMENTHelp! I need an antidote for anxiety.It had been one week. One week of twiddling my fingers and wearing my carpet thin. One week of not hearing back from the DEA.I was almost foaming at the mouth. Every day like clockwork, I would get to the office before anyone, because I was going stir-crazy at home, amongst my staff. I probably checked the company mail about ten times every hour. When that didn't yield any fruit, I shifted my attention to my personal mail, and then it was back to the company mail once again.And then I began to ruminate.Maybe they got some alphabets mixed up. It had happened to me once when I sent a mail to a company and waited for weeks for a reply. They eventually called saying they hadn't gotten any mail from me. Turned out I had mixed up an n with an m.So maybe that was what probably happened.Mr. Hendricks did seem impressed, so what was the big hold up about?A thought occurred to me. Perhaps they wanted to send me a personal text message
SECOND CHANCES"So, Mr. Moore, what can the public expect from Exceva in the long run?"Mr. Moore, how many people do you perceive will be cured using Exceva?""Mr. Moore, will you . . .”I mentally shut out the words of the third reporter. At that point in time, I was about ready to keel over. My eyes had become blurry and red and they stung, but I lifted my shoulders a little higher and pasted on a smile that didn't reach my heart. "As you all know, my wife was diagnosed with womb cancer. Unfortunately, she wasn't diagnosed on time, and as a result. . ." I looked down and shook my head, valiantly trying to keep the tears which threatened to swim to the surface, at bay.I looked back up at all the reporters that swarmed around, eagerly waiting for the rest of my words and I knew I couldn't let the water works reign free. "Exceva was meant for people who have been diagnosed with early stage cancer. It is a drug that's meant to give sustainability, but above all, restoration and comple
RAIDEDSix hours earlier"Bless me father, for I have sinned. . ."Sweat pooled on my forehead and I was not able to speak further. The priest must have sensed my distress, for he sat up and peered at me through the peep holes in the confessional booth."You can speak freely, child of God, there is no condemnation for you in the house of God."I stayed quiet for a bit as I sat on my hunches. I took in the statue of the mother of God which stood on the right of the altar, and then I swung my eyes to the altar itself where the tabernacle lay. Its presence relaxed me a bit and I breathed easier.Clearing my throat, I began to speak. "I've been having murderous thoughts."There was silence as I waited for the priest to comment. He seemed to be pondering on what I just dished out to him."What kind of thoughts are these? Speak clearly so I can understand what you're talking about."I sighed dramatically and made myself as comfortable as I could on the kneeler.This was going to take some t