Monday, 3 February 2014
Georgie has not returned home since yesterday and I am beginning to think something might be bloody wrong, considering how he left home yesterday, acerbic and disintegrated from family affairs.
Really, where would he be in the middle of this fracas? I’m afraid he might as well be a target for the cops, given his high profile connection with Tiger.
Today I decided to buy a Bible from a bookshop in town. If it can offer me protection against Tiger and his mischiefs, then it isn’t worth giving a flying puck. Sincerely speaking, dear sister, I’m wearied and scared of seeing Tiger’s mystical face every day and listening to his threats and mockeries. How the hell did my marriage start rolling downhill?
After buying the Bible, I went on to meet Mr Moliak, a psychologist in town who lives close to Dunga Beach. I’m beginning to think it is high time I looked for help from every nook and crany of life. I remember there was a time you told me never to despise any piece of advice and to always be ready to look for it whenever I needed it. At this moment, I guess I need some very logical pieces.
When I arrived at Mr Moliak’s house, I found him attending to another visitor. But he excused himself to have a moment with me outside.
“Sorry, Mrs Argwins, we were in the middle of something,” he said when we had found a haven.
“No, I bet I’m the one supposed to be sorry, for intruding, you know.”
“No. You don’t have to. I’m always here for you. What is it? It’s been terribly long since you last came. I guess we last spoke way back in 2012.”
“Sure. Mr Moliak, I have a problem. My husband has not been acting properly. He doesn’t come home in time and rarely speaks with me, and the kids,” I stated.
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I know how stressful it can be to share an abode with a mule.”
At the mention of the word mule, I wanted to object and say that my husband was not an animal, but I kept my knickers on. I really did not understand what he meant.
“I understand family matters,” he proceeded, a bit of snobbery carried in his voice. “I can assure you, lack of communication in a family can sometimes be abhorrent and traumatising, Your Excellency. But I can help you. What if we schedule a meeting with you and your husband to iron out this impasse, together? Wouldn’t that be great?”
“No. That won’t work, Mr Moliak,” I objected immediately. ”My husband would simply walk away. I’ve tried to talk to him on various things, including a mysterious ring I… .” I stopped at the realization that I was bending in too much and giving out information that could turn out ferocious for both of us.
“What! A mysterious ring, did I just hear you say?”
“Forget I just said that. Please”
“Why? What are you hiding, Mrs Argwins? You know you can trust me.”
“It’s nothing for your concern, sir. We can talk other issues. And… Well, I bet I should go now. Please notify me when you’re ready to slate a piece of your time for me.”
I made to walk away but he stopped me. “Can’t we have it right now righ here then?”
“What? I thought you had a visitor waiting.”
“Um… that’s just my churchmate… .”
“All the same, let’s have it another new time, sir.”
I smiled and walked away. I could not allow myself to start up a conversation I would not be willing to give out my thoughts for. I chose to go back home. I found Faith standing at my gate. It has been quite a while since he last showed up at my place. And was I wrong? Did I see her carrying a knife and crying out all her tears? I rushed to her to hold her close and console but she backed off.
“Don’t get near me, you donk!” she growled. I could not believe what my ears gave me. Was this really the same Faith I knew? I retreated. “Leave my family alone!” she harped on. “I believed you when you came to me with profound meekness, Mrs Argwins. But now what is this you’re doing to me? You’ve turned your gun upon my head!”
“Faith! What are you taking about?” I asked and made to move closer.
“Don’t! Don’t get near me, you naughty woman. Don’t, unless you want me to pull this through your throat.” She held the knife in front of me.
My blood froze. It was as if I was having a nightmare, dear sister. I retreated and stood at least two metres away, wondering whether that flared arrogant woman was the self-effacing Faith I actually knew. And, oh my poor self, I nearly broke down into tears.
“What have I done?” I asked aloud.
“Why have you sent your husband to my house to threaten me? He came to my house with a gun. Really? After I entrusted you with all the secrets about my brother, this is how you can repay? You rich ignorant woman, you’ve torched your own home.”
I stood nonplussed, my eyes fixed onto the small knife she was holding.
“I know you want me to leave,” she continued. “I’ll go. But never, and I mean never, show up at my house, you bloody liar. A pox on you!” She then turned and walked quickly past me, as if a gast of wind was carrying her feet upon the ground. As she moved, I felt an odd aura of dread pervade my soul.
“Faith! Faith! Please talk to me,” I shouted after her, but she scooted away without turning her neck around, and quickly disappeared into thin air.
As I go to bed tonight, I wonder whether it would be really appropriate to open up to someone else about my situations and whether the woman who showed up at my gate today was actually the Faith I know. Sometimes, and I believe this time, it is important to believe in fantasies.