Munachi

|Chapter 29|

A large black car approach my house as William and I are standing on the veranda. We watch as a mustached man steps briskly out of the side door, which his chauffeur hold open.

“Good morning, Ms. Anozie,” he says, striding up the veranda steps two at a time. “My name is Joseph Boris. I'm sent here by Dr. Frank to pickup William Constant. Are you William Constant?” he asks, facing William.

“Yes, I am,” he responds.

I put out my arm to help William down the steps, but instead he puts his arm around my shoulders the way he'd done when he first walked after the accident.

“Thank you so much, Muna. I owe my very life to you.”

“You don't have to thank me,” I say, but I couldn't meet his eyes.

“Thank you for all you've done for me. I am truly grateful.” We're at the bottom of the steps. He bend forward and kiss me on the cheek. I can feel his soft lips brushing my skin, and then I hear a whisper, “Good-bye, Muna.” I can feel Mr. Boris watching us. I can hardly raise my eyes to look at him.

“Good-bye, William,” I stammer, as I help him into the car. I stand watching as the car roars off down the road.

Jamal is standing on the veranda when I turn to go back inside.

“Well, that's that,” I say to him, and instead of going out to the clinic, I throw myself into my big chair, the one William had always used. Jamal goes back inside. I feel tired and empty. I feel as though I don't want to do anything at all but sit here and remember the last couple of weeks.

After William left, My days goes on as they had before I'd ever laid eyes on him. They are filled with the work of healing the people who comes to me. I spend as much time as I can supervising the construction of my new clinic building. The foundation is being laid.

But the joy and the anticipation that I feel in my work vanished into thin air like the dust from the car that took William Constant back to Bamenda. I often catch myself looking down the road as if he might just appear again, roaring back in a cloud of dust the way he'd left.

I long to be able to put him out of my mind forever, but my will is just not strong enough to overcome my feelings about him. The days and the nights are lonely and difficult, and I find that I can't even pour out my heart to God the way I used to. William always comes to my mind whenever I try to pray.

The trip to Bamenda takes me and Jamal half a day, most of it over rough, bumpy roads. I'd been planning on coming to Bamenda to order supplies for the clinic.
I make my way to the hospital. I'll order a few medical supplies and visit Dr. Frank. Secretly, I wonder if I might bump into William somewhere Bamenda isn't a big place, and William is probably still under doctor's care. I'd thought I can ask Dr. Frank about how he's getting on, but I'm afraid to go and visit William myself. Anyway, I might bump into him accidentally . . .

But now the thought of accidentally bumping into him set my nerves on edge so badly I decide to sneak in the back of the hospital. I leave Jamal with the lorry, parked in a dusty yard overrun with chickens and a goat or two.
I slip unnoticed through the back door, which is bustling at full speed until I arrive at Dr. Frank's office.

“I was very impressed with the job you did stitching up William Constant,” he says. “He owes you his life, you know.”

“I did the very best I could.”

We chat on about people we'd both know back in Nigeria, and about medical problems that I'm encountering among the people who comes to me for treatment. At last, just before it's time for Dr. Frank to return to work, I quickly slip in a question about William. I hope I sound nonchalant.

“Ah, yes, I meant to tell you earlier. He's recovered nicely. You did a bang-up job of sewing him back together. Which is why he was able to return to London.”

“Return to London? When did he leave?”

“It's been three days he's left. Anyway, I must return to my patients, Ms. Anozie. It has been a pleasure to see you. Good luck with your clinic.”

After ordering for the supplies and climbing into the lorry, Jamal turn the crank to try and start the vehicle. Suddenly it roars to life.

“I'm so tired, Jamal,” I say. “I think I'll just sleep for a few minutes before the road gets rough.” I needed the privacy of my own thoughts, which goes swirling wildly out of control. Why did William leave for London so early? Did his wounds healed up that quickly? He didn't even bother to say a proper good-bye. He should have at least told me he was leaving Cameroon. Well, it doesn't matter. I shouldn't allow that to bother me.

I work hard when I return back home. The clinic is coming along faster now that the heavy clearing and the foundation is finished. Everyday I supervise its progress. In the evenings I work on my correspondence and read my medical books. Each night I drop into bed as exhausted as I can possibly make myself. One night as I wait for sleep, praying as I always do, I ruefully thank God for making me keep my mind off William. It has been a marvelous effect. And I've accomplished so much more than I ever would have done at my usual pace. “Lord, it's exhausting, though,” I sigh and fall asleep.

But in the mornings, as I work with the sick and wounded that comes to me for help, I realize that I'm not being completely honest with myself. Each time someone walks into my yard, I catch myself looking up to see if it's William.

For goodness's sake the man's gone back to London!

One morning, I'm bandaging a little boy who'd accidentally slipped and burned his arm in a fire. The boy is whining and crying while his mother hold him close on her lap. It takes all my attention to get the actual burn area covered with the bandage as he tries to pull his arm away each time I come near it.

“Here, let me help you with that,” a voice says right behind me.

I nearly jump right out of my skin, and the boy screams as I pressed too hard on his wound. “Oh, I am sorry I frightened you, Muna!”

“William Constant?!”