The Wife ESCAPED!

The day after they left Abuja, Donatus and his charge arrived in Lagos. Due to the long journey, they had spent the previous night in a hotel and finished the journey by morning.

“‘This your place?”, Timmy asked as they drove through the gate into Donatus’ compound in Lagos. But his father’s friend gave no reply. He simply parked in front of the small but beautiful buildings and alighted from the car.

“Somethin’ cute ain’t it?”, Tim said as he also stepped out of the car. “Never imagined you’d be holed up in a place like this, Donuts.”

“Welcome Oga,” a young man rushed to meet them followed closely by two others, one of whom had opened the gate. They took Donatus’ bag from him, but they didn’t dare suggest that he part with his large purse.

“Mba mba mba! Let him carry his own bag,” he ordered, shaking his head vigorously in disapproval, as one of the boys wanted to help Timmy with his bag.

Timmy looked surprised for a second, but finally shrugged and slung his bag over his shoulder.

“Yo Donuts,” he called as Donatus began to walk toward the bigger of the two houses. “Who’s gon’ pick up ma things in the trunk?”

“Don’t you have hands?”, Donatus shot back. “And look here, don’t you ever, from this day onward, call me donut again. If you can’t call me Uncle Donatus, call me Oga Dona. Or sir. Or even Uncle. Onyeberibe.”

Timmy watched in surprise as he walked off angrily. When Donatus was finally out of sight, he turned to the boys who were now staring at him as if he was a new species of insect just discovered by a scientist.

“Yo, what’re you guys staring at? Go pick up the damn things from the trunk.”

With hisses and shake of heads, they all turned around and walked away.

“Hey, where you guys going?”, Timmy called after them. But none of them paid any attention to him. He put his hands on his waist and shook his head ruefully. “Gotta head back to Abhooja, man. Fucking donut heads out here.”

***

As he puffed, sweated and strained under box after box of his possessions, Timmy wondered what amount of sightseeing could possibly make up for all this suffering. He had called his mother and she had told him to be patient and that everything would turn out alright. He’d do anything for her, so he would stick with it for two days, but if the suffering continued, he’d have no choice but to return to Abuja immediately.

As he dropped the last of the boxes in the sitting room, Donatus walked in from his room, clad in only a singlet and trousers.

“What’s all this?”, he asked in surprise, referring to Timmy’s boxes.

“My things, man. Mom packed the damn Universe,” Timmy grumbled as he stretched his tired bones.

“What are they doing here? Don’t you know where the Boys Quarter is? My friend, take them to the Boys Quarter! Onyeara.”

“What!”, Timmy shouted. “Boys Quarters? Damn! This is the height of it. Hey, see here, Donuts…”

Like lightning, Donatus’ palm flew through the air and struck Timmy hard on the cheek before he could complete his statement. The slap sent the boy to the ground and he promptly burst into tears.

“Fuck you, man!”, he shouted as he cried. “How dare you hit me? I’m gonna have your head! When Pops hears about this, you gon’ spend the rest of your miserable life in jail!”

“Wait for me,” Donatus said and rushed back into his rooms. He returned immediately with a long, wicked-looking koboko and made for Timmy like fire following a trail of gasoline.

Timmy knew he was in trouble and he quickly scrambled to his feet and ran outside, cursing as he ran. Donatus ran after him, but stopped at the doorway, from where he could see the Boys Quarters.

“Henry! Chukwuka! Chidi!”

Immediately, the three boys jumped out of the Quarters and rushed over to their boss.

“Come, come here,” he ordered, leading them into his sitting room. “Throw this rubbish out. Throw them… throw everything outside. Nonsense!”

Fuming, he picked up his phone and dialed a number as the boys unceremoniously threw out all of Timmy’s boxes from the sitting room into the packing area.

“I’ll have your balls, you Donuts! And y’all are gon’ join ‘im in prison. I promise you that! You hear me? You’ll rot in jail, all o’ you!”

When the boys had done their work, they all three retreated to their residence, leaving only their boss and his latest apprentice.

“You, Timothy or whatever you call yourself,” Donatus fumed, pointing angrily at Timmy. “Don’t worry, you will see pepper in this house. Jail, abi? Don’t worry, we shall see. We shall see.”

And then he walked into his house, his phone on his ear and slammed the door shut behind him.

After he was gone, Timmy went over to the flowers at the side of the house and slumped to a sitting position on the ground.

“Fuck you, Mom! Fuck you, Pops! You guys sent me to get beat by this filthy donut. You got a lotta making up to do, you know. This guy’s gotta die in jail, nothing else!”

Then he pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed his mother, crying as he did so. The operator informed him that the line was unavailable at the moment and that he should try again later. He paused his crying to listen to the message. Then he dialed his father and restarted the crying immediately, but the operator told him the line was switched off.

“Fuck!”, he shouted, throwing the phone away in anger. He fumed for a few seconds and then went over to pick it up. The screen was cracked, but he still had a good view. He dialed his mother again, but this time it was declared switched off. His father again, but the same story. Then he dialed his eldest sister.