Maths staggered down the stairs into the living room like a frenzied antelope gyrating from his dream. His eyes were blurry and unable to see things. Unknowingly, his hand grabs down his dad's favourite artwork, mould with ceramics placed on the shelf beside the library room. It hit the ground with a loud thud and it broke into smaller parts.
They all rushed to the scene, and what they saw in front of them made them all go puzzled. They watched as he staggered away from the broken ceramics and stood in front of them. His eyes were red and bright, they could tell he was just woken up from sleep. Nancy rushed to him, held him by his hand and led him to sit on one of the couches in the sitting room.
"Are you okay?" she asked but got no answer.
Shed ran to the dining room to get him some water to drink.
"You okay?" Shed also asked and urged him to drink from the cup of water. All he did was nod and gulped down the content from the cup held out to him. They stare keenly at him waiting for him to revive back to his normal self since he looked half asleep. Nancy touched his head and discovered he was burning from inside
"Angie?" she called.
"Yes," Angie replied.
"Can you please get me a bowl of water from the kitchen and please Aunt Julianne, I need a towel, he's feverish."
"I'll be right back," Julianne said and rushed to the laundry room, while Angie ran to the kitchen. They both arrived hurriedly, giving the equipment to Nancy who dipped the towel into the bowl of water and squeezed it before placing it on his forehead.
"Lay him down," Davis suggested.
"Okay."
He looked haggard and lean like he hasn't been resting for a while. His chest rosed and fall harder compared to a normal state.
"Can you do something, Auntie? His breathing doesn't seem normal," Shed complained, worriedly.
"Huh, I'm sorry I don't think I can attend to him, maybe we should call the hospital," Julianne insisted.
"He's unconscious, what if it's his frequent symptoms? You know how dangerous it could be, it's no big deal to take care of him today," Nancy also protested.
"What if he wakes up and…," she paused and took a deep breath seeing their facial expression. After hesitating for some moments, she ran up the stairs to get her first aid box. She came back with the first aid treatment box and laid it beside the couch. She then brought out her stethoscope to check his vitality. But as she was about to place it on his chest, Mrs Sara walked in.
"What is happening here?" the old woman asked, confused, seeing the way they all gathered in front of Maths.
"He's... His temperature is a bit high," Nancy answered while Julianne redrew from Maths. The old woman ran towards them. She bent low to her knee before him, touching and checking his temperature. She looked at Julianne and asked, "You wanted to give him first aid?"
Julianne nodded.
"Do you wanna cause trouble again?"
"No, Um I..."
"I told her to check him out," Nancy uttered.
The old woman looked at both of them, then shook her head. "Thank God I came in time," she muttered and turned back to attend Maths. She tried her very best to warm him up and asked Nancy to call the family doctor. After some time he was back in his room, sleeping peacefully. The doctor diagnosed that he only had a slight fever and too worked up memory. He advised Mrs Sara to take good care of him and make sure he's not stressed out.
"Will he be okay?" Mrs Sara asked.
"Yes, he will," the doctor answered, putting them at ease.
Later in the day|
Nancy called Angie into the kitchen to help her prepare some food for Maths since Mrs Sara was busy watching over him.
"Is he always like this, sleepwalking?" Angie asked Nancy immediately as she got to the kitchen.
"Something like, though it occurs when scrupulous things keep bothering him
"
"Things like what?" Angie asked, already getting scared, feeling like she was the cause.
"Maybe when he remembers or dreams of his past."
"That's so bad, how devastating it is," Angie said and heaved a sigh of relief.
"Yeah though."
Angie needed more answers to her unanswered questions. "Is that why he's being too callous? Is it because of his past that he hated girls?"She thought.
"Nancy?" Angie called again.
"Yes?" Nancy replied and turned to face her.
"I went into his room yesterday and..."
"What?!" Shocked Nancy screamed.
"It was a misunderstanding, I wanted to ease myself so badly."
"He saw you?" She asked impatiently and Angie nodded.
"What the fuck?!" Nancy exclaimed, "You went into his den and into his toilet to ease yourself?"
"No, no, never, I did not enter his toilet when he saw me." Angie divulged and Nancy heaved a sigh of relief.
"He only warned me not to step a foot into his apartment again."
"I told you that he doesn't like the girl's around him, why would you go there?" she asked softly.
"You pointed out his place for me when I told you I wanted to make use of the toilet," Angie complained.
"I did?" Nancy asked, and then she burst out laughing. "I did?" she asked again while Angie stared bashfully at her.
"You were sleepy," Angie replied.
"Oh! Angela, I'm so sorry for causing you trouble," Nancy apologized.
"It's alright," Angie assured.
"Please be careful when you are here and I'm still sorry for bringing you here without informing you about the situation, SAH mansion could be naive at times," Nancy conveyed.
"It's okay, I'm having a lot of fun, thanks for inviting me over, I'm so grateful."
"You're welcome, baby girl, now let's get cooking," Nancy said as they returned to what they wanted to do.
Later in the evening|
Davis Pov
I don't like it when I have to come to the damn place. Though my dad spends most of his time here and also rules this place, I've not been able to get used to it. He's the president and I am his son. Just as he is famous and known to all so I am. Every single place I step my foot on, I must be recognized. No matter what I need, I have full access to them. Ain't I blessed? Yet, this fame and wealth don't suit me. I don't fancy it. I hate it being known for who I am. Most times, I wish people won't see me as someone who could get anything he needs without endorsement. When I try explaining how awful it feels to be the country's president's son, they all refer me to as a mentally deranged person. But that's the fact. My dad and I both love each other a lot to the extent that we share a lot of things. His best food is my best. His best colours, best hobbies, and best practices are all the same as mine.
However, his works differ from ours. It was the only thing that made us argue most of the time. He was too much into politics which I hated most. Since then, we started losing memories little by little because going into the white house to visit him is never my verdict. As soon as I opened the door to his office, his secretary was taking his leave.
"Welcome sir," Tony greeted as he walked past me. My dad looked up at me when he heard the greeting. I smiled at him and moved into the office.
I went to his coffee table, poured out some into the available glass cup and moved back to sit on one of the armchairs placed at the centre of his office. He stood up from his chair and came to sit in front of me. He looked so haggard and tiring.
"What's wrong? You don't look good?" I questioned.
"I'm so exhausted," he replied solemnly.
"Is the system already intact?"I asked as I sip from my coffee.
"The more we try to stabilize it, the more they keep discharging, a group of people are involved."
"What about DEF?"
"Still the same," he answered with a hushed voice. This is the pressure I never wanted him to get himself involved in.
It's not as easy as people think it is to be inside this office. There is a workload here, one of the reasons I can't find interest in liking it.
"Should I call the doctor?" I asked, knowing full well he wouldn't accept.
He waved his hands over my face, "I'm fine, you don't have to bother." I roar out laughter.
"Of course I'm not, it's what you caused for yourself,"
"It's my work Davis," he stated
"I know it is, I'm not also meddling,"
I smirked at him and stood up to return the cup to its position.
"Your principal kept complaining about you not attending Mrs Rose's class anymore," he finally announced.
"It's no use to attend, it sulks when I have to keep seeing her," I muttered, moved to his file shelf and began to examine his works like I knew what was being scribed into them.
"Davison," he called gently.
Only my father knows I love it when I'm being referred to as Davison.
He knew how much I love hearing my name fully pronounced and he always mentions it, either to tease or to calm me.
"I can't concentrate as she continues to teach my class so I have to stop attending class if she won't stop, moreover, I'll keep developing a hatred for her if she keeps addressing me by my surname,"
"Not only you are being addressed with surname," my dad muttered
"I don't like it coming from her." I heard him heaved a sign of worry, I guess.
"I won't accept that from you, you can't keep skipping class."
"Then it has to change, either she leaves or I leave," I retorted.
The whole building was calm when we stopped talking. I know it's annoying to grow this feckless attitude but I have no choice. I can't bear to see that woman next to me, I can never accept her. I stood in front of him, I could sense he was not feeling better. What I just said to him could make him refute, so to keep the atmosphere cool and tranquil, I changed the topic.
"I'll call the doctor as soon as I leave, you don't have to worry too much about me, I'm good. Take good care of yourself, I don't know when I'll visit again, sports programs are coming up soon and I also have a concert to attend," I rushed out my words and paced out of his office leaving him to ease his anger.
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