Two Worlds - Season 1 - Episode 75

4 years ago

Two Worlds - Season 1 - Episode 75

Ivie watched Richard eat. He ate as though the soup was prepared with unwashed bitterleaf, yet mama and she had taken time to wash it properly. It could be he merely did not like the soup, but every man in Lagos was supposed to like garri and bitterleaf soup. Perhaps it was different for those within the walls of a prison; their tongue must have been altered by the prison’s diet. He dunked a moulded garri into the soup and did a swallow, causing him to squint as though pins were strewn in the morsel.

When done with the meal, he did a small cough, which he cured with a gulp of water.
“Thank you. The meal was good.” He cleaned his hands with a towelled handkerchief. “I last ate this in the army days. Then, we were given starch and sordid bitterleaf. We had no choice but to eat it, or starve.”

“Couldn’t you buy your own food?”
“Camp is like jail. Every food you buy tastes the same, tastes like what the jail serves.”
She placed the plates and utensils in a polybag. “Any news from your lawyer?”
“We talked the day before yesterday on how the trial process will be. There was no helpful news. The lawyer said you’d be witnessing. Are you okay with that?”

“I wish I could do more. Believe me when I say that.” She looked straight to him, so he would see the believability in her.
“You just fed me. I wouldn’t ask for anything more.”

“There is a lot more to do. I’m sitting in my house, unable to think of anything that could help, while you are here hurting by the day. I put you behind those bars and I am outside them doing nothi—”
“What can be done? You think if something could be done, I would still be in here? No one can help me better than myself. If you want to help, stop blaming yourself.” He stared into her. “You didn’t cause anything.”
She swallowed the hurt arising from her gorge and fixed on her fingers. “I have an idea as to how you feel. I’ve experienced a scratch of it, and I’m sorry you are passing through it.”

“You’ve experienced jail? For what reason?”
“I was once found with a stolen item. The owner saw it fit to report to the police, and they locked me up for three days.”
“I’m sorry for such,” he said as though she was the one to be pitied.
“It was for only three days. It’s nothing compared to how long you’ve stayed here for a crime you didn’t commit.”
“Then who committed it?”
“You said your wife shot the victim. She committed it.”

“Not just my wife. Everyone in that scene was guilty,” he said. “Including the victim.”

She lowered her eyelids until his voice came up.

“The victim is guilty,” he repeated, as though she did not hear him the first time. “I don’t want you to have any connection with him.”
“He is my partner.”
“Is or was?”
The best thing to do was to remain silent.
His hands moved from the desk into one of her cornrows. “That man is not right for you. He is the worst man for you. I would leave jail, and when I do, I want to be with you.”
Her tongue refused to curve into words. It lay flat and hid between her teeth, and froze as he ran his hands through her detached cornrows. “I want to be with you, Ivie,” he said. “I will be out soon.”