Chris' head was bowed on the round, well–polished wooden table in the dining room. The coffee on the table was cold, and untouched. With the dining room light being the only light shining in the house, it seemed as if he was under a spotlight, on stage.
He kept asking himself why Michelle put herself in such an injurious situation. Why did she allow herself to be treated as if she's an animal rather than a human? It pained him so much.
If it was love, which it obviously was, then it sucked. Love should be something that a person will never regret, not even for a second. It should be enjoyed by both parties, he thought.
Chris wondered if Michelle regretted loving Henry, sometimes.
Why on earth was Michelle considering such a stupid act? Chris didn't want to believe that that was the way Michelle showed that she loved Henry. If that was what she was doing then it was pure stupidity.
What pained him most was she was not willing to comply with him, in order to give herself the justice that she deserved; rather, she enjoyed— as it was seen— being beaten by a man who clearly didn't love her. If Henry truly loved her, he would've never thought about assaulting her.
That wasn't the point anyways. He was going to help her whether she agreed or not. All he needed was evidences to backup the allegations that he would present to the jury subsequently. From the way Michelle acted, he believed, with no doubt, that she would be brave to defend Henry. And that could lend him into undesired trouble, or worst. That was the only problem so far.
Chris knew it wasn't going to be easy. He just had to be patient. But for how long? All his work that he intending putting into the case would be useless if he would get up one morning and hear that Michelle had been beaten to death by Henry. It would definitely be bitter agony for him.
He didn't know why it pained him so much. Was it because he had just finished law school and was anxious to execute what he studied all those years? Perhaps that was how most lawyers behaved after graduation. Or it was something that he couldn't figure out.
"Chris, are you okay?" A hand landed on his shoulders as the tender voice asked, charged with concern.
Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Chris slowly lifted his head to face his granny. Her beautiful grey eyes that complemented her completely–gray hair met his. She was already wearing her polka-dot, black and white robe and a matching hair cap. Strings of her hair drooped on the side of her face from inside the cap.
"I'm sorry for waking you up, granny," Chris apologised as he helped her sit down, holding her shoulder and precarious hand on her cane, in the chair next to him.
"Well...I'm not sorry for waking you up," she said, staring at his fatigued face. "You know I don't like it when people sleep in my dining or living room. Did your father not tell you what I used to do to him anytime I caught him sleeping in the living room?" Her expression was unstable when she asked the question.
Chris could tell that the thought of her only son, who was also her only child, still saddened her. Her smile didn't hide the fact that she mourned her son's death, even when it had been more than a year. Chris didn't want to imagine how it felt to birth a child then bury the same child. There was only one word for it. Painful.
"You still miss him, don't you?" He asked her, placing his left hand over her wrinkled hand, and expressing pity.
Her eyes rolled up to meet his. After few seconds of staring, she looked ahead of her. "He was all I had when your grandfather died a day before I gave birth to him. I always believe it was your grandpa who came back to me, because I loved him just like I loved your grandfather. He was all I had until you came. I watched him grow into a fine man, and also watched him being placed six–feet deep." She became silent for a moment. Though her face looked sad, no tears dropped from her eyes.
Chris felt like crying himself. His father was the only one that he had too. They never told him what happened to his mother. If she died or left him. But he didn't fell like he needed a mother because his granny played the role perfectly.
"Do you want me to take you back to your room?" Chris asked her, perceiving she needed some time all by herself to mourn the deaths of the men she loved so dearly.
"I'm not going to my room until you tell me what has been bothering you." Chris was surprised that her mood changed out of a sudden. She acted like she had never been thinking about her husband and son few minutes ago. "You better start talking, young man," Sydney said when she noticed Chris was about to protest.
She wasn't going to succumb.
"Granny, it's nothing," he lied.
From the way she looked at him, Chris understood that she wasn't buying that lie.
"It's so ironic that you're telling an nighty–eight–year–old woman that a man, no, a lawyer, has his head bowed on his dining table and his coffee untouched because of nothing, and hasn't even gone to his room to get a shower." She waited for him to start speaking.
He had to tell her or she wasn't going to let him be. She had aways been the one he talked to when he needed someone to talk to.
Chris sighed. "Granny, what do you think makes a woman allow herself to be assaulted by a man?"
Sydney smirked. "Though I loved Kwesi so much, never a day did he raise his hand to slap me. You know why?" She asked him. Chris shook his head. "I didn't encourage such things. I was a bluff during those days." Memories of the days when she was young had her smiling. "I will tell you, Chris, it is not love —if that's what you had been thinking— that makes a woman allow herself to be mistreated by a man. Fear, guilt, stupidity. Yes. Love? No." Sydney shoke her head in disapproval of the love aspect.
"Really?" He asked her so he could get more information from her. After all, she was the one who had lived for eight decades.
"Boy, love is so many things, but one thing it is not is 'brutal'," she stated. "One thing that you young people don't comprehend is the difference between love and obsession. You people be obsessed with each other and call it love." She laughed. "Love is more than hugging and kissing, having sex and making vows."
"Granny, I don't think I am ready to talk about love. At least not with you," Chris told his grandma when he was getting uncomfortable with the whole love talk that was taking another route.
"Look kid, I can die anytime. I am the best person to talk to you about life issues. I'm sure your father and grandfather will be grateful for that."
"Look, woman, you are not doing anytime soon. I have beautiful great-grand babies for you to take care of before you wrap it." Chris said to her.
Sydney rolled her eyes. "Says a man who doesn't want to talk about love with his grandma." Both of them laughed together. "I guess there is more you want to tell me. That question was a thread."
"Yeah, granny." He cleared his throat. "I have this friend who is being abused by her husband, but she won't admit it. I want to help her, but she's not willing to comply. She threatened to defend her husband in court and sue me if I try to interfere with their marital life," he explained to her, feeling the way he had been feeling before she arrived —hurt.
"That was a bitch move, Chris."
"How?" Chris wondered how was trying to help Michelle a bitch move.
"Sorry to say, but you didn't think like a lawyer." She lifted his face when it dropped. "You are the best lawyer in this Republic, though. But that wasn't a smart move. Don't you think other people have told her to report her husband?" She asked.
Chris Contemplated after the question was asked. He reasoned with his granny.
Had there not been someone who had noticed what he noticed and told her to do what he told her to do?
"If you really want to help her, don't force her to accept you offer immediately. Give her reasons to report him, not bluntly, though. Talk to her nicely, make her see her worth, and make her comfortable around you. Gain her trust," Sydney advised him.
"You just don't know the woman you're talking about here," Chris murmured. "She's a cooked potato."
*****
Rachael was sure she heard sound in her car, but she wasn't sure if it was actually coming from her car. She couldn't stop to make sure because her mother's securities car was right behind hers. Her mind was, too, occupied with the latest happenings for her to think about a mere sound coming from her trunk.
She had anticipated going for the charity program, but couldn't because of what happened at the mall. She didn't want the children to freak out when paparazzi show up. All that had her in her mood.
She kept reminded herself to hold the steering wheel. Rachael was impressed that she could still drive even when she was shaky.
Rachael got down from the car after parking carelessly in the middle of the yard. She watched the car drive out of the fence after ordering the men to go home because she was already at home, and fine in her own house. She had her own securities.
Getting her bag from the car to go inside, she heard the sound coming from the back of the car. She paused for a minute, her heart pounding so fast as if it would explode anytime soon. Rachael listened carefully again.
She Jerked when the sound came from the trunk again. Rachael swallowed hard as as she closed the passenger seat door slowly to go see what was making the noise in her trunk.
She took slow steps to the back of the car. Taking her own time, she opened the trunk and was shocked. Her bottom lip drooped as her eyes landed on the peaceful child sleeping in her trunk.
A/N
Thank you my lovely readers for not giving up on the story. I really appreciate waking up every morning and finding out I have over a thousand views on the story in just a day.
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