CHIKÉ
"So why don't you take alcohol? Is there a specific reason?" Her question caught me completely off guard. I thought I would be the one asking all the questions and even if she wanted to reciprocate, she'd ask trivial questions, not jumping straight to asking my newest alcohol abstinence. I couldn't divulge my illness to her because I knew she would run for the hills if I did. I had to come up with something that would not be a lie but hopefully omit the truth. I cleared the lump in my throat, so my proactive brain would get to work.
"I have just decided to watch my alcohol intake. I figured I have to live a healthy lifestyle." There! That was spot on but excluded my disease.
"True that! Most people think alcohol is so bitter that there's no way sugar could be found in its content. But beers have one of the highest levels of sugar. I don't know about the rest but I'm sure they're all terrible for the human body." She kept going on and on about the dangers of alcohol and I sighed in gratitude, grateful for the detour. I let her speak, wondering how to approach the subject at the train station, pondering if she truly had a connection with my supposed trance. I was hit by perplexity, not knowing what exactly to ask.
"Do you play any musical instruments?" was my straight forward interrogation. She looked at me and smiled then turned her gaze back to the road.
"Music is truly the only thing I'm good at. And yes I play a ton of musical instruments. Why do you ask?" She certainly had a way of turning the inquisition back to me. I decided to tell the truth to that.
"I saw you play the ukulele a couple weeks ago at a train station." I watched her think for some moments, wondering what the hell she was thinking about. Unexpectedly, she paused her movements and gazed at me in disbelief.
"Hold on a moment! Are you the weird guy at the Gare du Palais Train Station?" I halted my steps as well as I was gripped with astonishment that she recognized me. The weird guy? I worried over how I had acted that day and what the others thought of me. "You were the man in a fancy attire who kept mumbling as if singing with me that day?" Damn! She remembered me vividly. I sighed and nodded but would she understand if I told her I was watching my mum play that day and not her? No, she'd consider it absurd.
"Um, yeah. I am the 'weird guy'." I replied, making air quotes to emphasize my statement. "I'm sorry if I acted crazily that day. It was one of the worst days of my life. But it ended up being the best." I contemplated smiling to prove my point but she gave me a pointed look that further gave light to how weird I sounded still. It was the worst day and yet the best?
"Care to enlighten me? You seemed so... sad that day. I didn't stay long enough to ask you because something came up." the tone at the end of her words was tense, reminding me that the police had chased her out of the place. I noted she didn't explain further, everyone had their problems and secrets, so I kept my observations and my secrets, to myself.
I shrugged in response to her comment, hoping my silence put an end to her inquisition. It did.
Consequently, as we went on, a homeless man approached us, beseeching us to give him something for the road. I looked past him hoping she would do the same but she surprised me—in the most negative way—by dipping her hands into her purse and handing some dollar bills to the man who smiled, thanking her profusely. I sneered as I watched the scene unfold, completely against the fact that she gave him part of the money she had worked so hard for.
"Why do you have that look on your face?" She enquired after the beggar's departure. For the first time this evening, this was a question I was comfortable with. It was my turn to ramble on and on.
"I'm not impressed with you giving him the little you've earned. If he needs money, then he should go work for it rather than beg from people who suffer to fend for themselves. I don't know why most people seek every opportunity to depend on others, it doesn't make any sense! I will never give my money to anyone who doesn't deserve it." There was a satisfied smirk on my face. I congratulated myself for stating my truth! I glanced at her to gauge her reaction but she appeared disappointed.
"What makes you think you deserve the wealth you own?" She objected casually stopping by the road and leaning on a street light which had a metallic railing attached to it. Noting the familiarity of the street, I became aware that we had gotten to her house. Some occupants in the building had turned on their room lights, making the place seem like fantasy; a building found in story books. She was right when she confirmed that her house wasn't far from Huncho's, the local diner where we had dinner. I tuned out other thoughts and concentrated on her words as she continued speaking.
"Is it because you work hard, maybe twenty hours everyday? Or because you know so much about negotiations and other business transactions? Let me point out that I commend your hard-work but consider you fortunate. If hard work was the only criterion for success, then barristers, waiters and waitresses ought to be one the richest sets of people in Canada. I ought to be rolling in millions over how dedicated I've been since I turned eighteen years old but here I am, almost penniless." My inner thoughts grew sad over her confession. I decided to pay more attention to what she had to say.
"You see, this life we live is kinda partial to me. Greatness isn't determined by the level of one's hard-work. I believe its more of grace. We are where we are because of God's will." maybe I had a weird look on my face because she smiled and said, "I'm a Christian and I take my religion seriously, so you're gonna hear a lot about God if you wish to be friends with me." I smiled in return. Christianity was also my religion.
"Listen Chiké," I grinned mentally, knowing that for the first time, someone had pronounced my name correctly. "I practice love and giving and I will give to anyone who asks for it as long as I have what they seek, no matter how little. That's how you make an impact; that is Success to me. Oprah mentioned that one time on TV." She ended her words. I chewed on her observation for a while as we stood in silence, thereafter.
"Well, its time for me to go in now. I had the best time with you, Chiké. I'm hoping we get to hang out again very soon." She kissed my right cheek and turned to go in, not without me noticing her flushed cheeks.
"I had a great time too. We will definitely spend more time together, I just realized you're great company!" I called out to her and she turned and winked at me, mouthing "Goodnight." and then she waved. I waved right back and kept a steady gaze on her until she disappeared into the building.
Sighing, I sat by the pavement to reflect on her captivating argument. Deep down, I couldn't deny that what she said made sense. One way or another, I knew I was lucky to have amassed my present wealth. For certain, I worked very hard daily, howbeit, I knew a lot of old school friends who had nothing to show for their years of hard work. Jonathan, my bosom friend in college lost a great deal of money in his father's cigar business. He used to be one of the most influential students at the university those days but today, he was swimming in wretchedness and misery and an obscene amount of debt. He wouldn't even let me help him get back on his feet. He was too proud to stoop that low to require assistance. I exhaled and dialed Phillip's number, alerting him of my current location so he could come pick me up.
Not up to fifteen minutes later, the engine of my 2020 Mercedes-Benz S-Class luxury car roared to life as Philip rolled up looking very businesslike in a suit as usual. I jumped to my feet at the same time he hurried out of the car to open the passenger door for me. I nodded in a Curt manner as I often did with employees and dunked into the car. He ran back into the driver's seat and revved the engine to life. As always, we drove in silence with his eyes on the road, carefully navigating the streets while my eyes wandered about at nothing in particular. Shortly after, I became dizzy and extremely tired. I took my drugs out of a fancy nylon in the compartment of the car and swallowed it with the aid of the bottled water placed beside it. I kept some of my medicines in the car just in case I forgot to take them at the stipulated time, this way, I wouldn't forget the drugs at one particular spot either at home, my penthouse or at work. I grimaced at the acrid taste which someway reminded me of Samira's words.
Did many people work extremely hard and still have nothing to show for it at the end of the day?
"Sir, we're home." Phillip's voice brought me back to the now, suddenly having the overwhelming urge to ask him a question I wanted someone else other than Samira to answer.
"Do I pay you enough, Phillip?" my question obviously caught him unprepared. He wondered where I was heading to with our conversation since I seldomly made small talk with him.
"Sure, you do Sir. I count myself super fortunate to have this job sir." That word again 'fortunate', oh no!
"Um, why do you find yourself fortunate? Don't you think you deserve this job?" I personally knew he was a fully qualified driver and he was well paid in as much as all my employees could brag about that.
"To be candid, I don't. I had a rough life and I never thought I'd be here with an excellent job that pays me more than enough to take care of my family. Where I come from, so many people have no source of income. They practically live from hand to mouth." Wow, not what I expected to hear.
I remained silent. Astonished.
"Oh no! Please don't tell me you want to fire me? Sir please I'd do anything to keep this job, please do not dismiss me." Realizing he got the wrong idea about our conversation—well it was more or less an interrogation on my part—I cut in swiftly;
"No, I was only curious. You still have your job." I responded and he answered with a sigh of relief, grinning from ear to ear. Ending the conversation, I hopped out of the car so he could go park it in the garage. He spoke up from within the vehicle and I halted, turned back to hear what he had to say.
"I've always looked up to you sir. I value your shrewd business sense and how you've achieved so much. I'm in awe of you, Sir. But most importantly, I am thankful for you. You saved my life by giving me this job. I don't know where I'd be if not for you. Thank you sir, I owe you my life!"
Speechless, all I could do was nod and stare into space after he drove off. He looks up to me? He values me? I saved his life? Was I truly capable of all these? All my life, I made no thought of what others thought of me but hearing his words melted my heart in the strangest way.
As I walked in through the opened door, it dawned on me that I might finally have a clue to my trance at the train station and Samira's connection to it all.