“And will you?”
“Would you?” I think of Tade, ring in hand, eyes on me, waiting for my blessing.
“Are they in love?”
“Who?”
“Miriam and…your son.”
“Love. What a novel concept.” He closes his eyes.
NIGHT
Tade stares at me, but his eyes are empty. His face is bloated, distorted. He reaches out to touch me and his hands are cold.
“You did this.”
BROKEN
I slither inside Tade’s office and rummage through his desk drawers to retrieve the ring box. Tade has taken a patient to radiology, so I know I’m alone. The ring is as enchanting as I remember. I am tempted to slip it on my finger. Instead I grip the band tightly, kneel on the floor and strike the diamond against the tiles. I use every ounce of force in my body and strike again. I guess it’s true that diamonds are forever—it withstands my every attempt to break it, but the rest of the ring is not as strong willed. Soon the setting is in pieces on the ground. The diamond looks smaller and less impressive without its casing.
It occurs to me that if I just damage the ring, Tade will suspect me. I slip the diamond in my pocket. After all, no self-respecting thief would leave it here. Besides, this would all be a colossal waste of time if Tade simply bought another setting. I head to the medicine cabinet.
Twenty minutes later, Tade storms toward the reception desk. I hold my breath. He looks at me and then quickly looks away, addressing Yinka and Bunmi instead.
“Someone has turned my office upside down and destroyed the…some of my things.”
“What?!” we cry in unison.
“Are you serious?” adds Yinka, though it is clear from Tade’s furrowed brows that something is not right.
We follow him to his office, and he flings open the door. I try to look at it from the eyes of an objective party. It appears as though someone was searching for something and then lost control. The drawers are all open and most of the contents scattered on the floor. The medicine cabinet is ajar, the pill bottles are in disarray and there are files scattered all over his desk. When I left, the broken ring setting was on the ground, but I can no longer see it.
“This is terrible,” I mumble.
“Who would do this?” Bunmi asks, frowning.
Yinka purses her lips together and claps her hands. “I saw Mohammed go inside to clean earlier on,” she reveals, and I rub my tingling hands on my thighs.
“I don’t think Mohammed would—” begins Tade.
“When you left your office, it was normal, yes?” interrupts Yinka.
“Yes.”
“Then you went to do the X-ray and the ECG with a patient. How long were you gone?”
“About forty minutes.”
“Well, I saw Mohammed go into your office in that time. Let’s say he spent twenty minutes sweeping the floor and emptying the dustbin. It doesn’t give anyone else enough time to enter, do all this and leave,” concludes Yinka, the amateur detective.
“Why do you think he would do this?” I ask. She can’t hang him without a motive, can she?
“Drugs, obviously,” she states. She crosses her arms, satisfied that she has made her case. It’s easy to point the finger at Mohammed. He is poor, uneducated. He is a cleaner.
“No.” It is Bunmi who speaks, Bunmi who protests. “I don’t accept that.” She is eyeing Yinka, and because I am beside Yinka she is eyeing me too. Or does she suspect something? “This man has been working in this place for longer than the both of you and there has never been a problem. He wouldn’t do this.” I have never seen Bunmi speak so passionately, or for so long. We all stare at her.
“Drug addicts can hide their addiction for a long time,” argues Yinka finally. “He was probably suffering from withdrawal or something. When these people need a hit…Who knows how long he has been stealing drugs and getting away with it.”
Yinka is content with her conclusion, and Tade is deep in thought. Bunmi walks away. I have done the right thing…right? I have bought Tade more time to think things through. I want to volunteer to clean up, but I know I should keep my distance.
* * *
—
Mohammed denies the charges vehemently, but he is fired anyway. I can see the decision does not sit well with Tade, but the evidence, or lack of evidence, is not in Mohammed’s favor. It worries me that Tade does not mention the broken ring to me. In fact, he has not sought me out at all.
“Hey,” I say a few days later, standing in the doorway of his office.
“What’s up?” He does not look at me, but continues writing in his file.
“I…I just wanted to check that everything is alright with you.”
“Yeah, everything is cool.”
“I didn’t want to ask in front of the others…but I hope the ring wasn’t stolen…”
He stops writing and puts his pen down. He looks at me for the first time. “Actually, Korede, it was.”
I’m about to feign shock and commiserate, when he continues.
“But what is funny is that the two bottles of diazepam in the cabinet weren’t. The drugs were all over the place, but the ring was the only thing that was actually taken. Curious behavior, for a drug addict.”
He holds my gaze. I refuse to blink or look away. I can feel my eyeballs drying out. “Very curious,” I manage.
We stare at each other for a while longer, then he sighs and rubs his face. “Okay,” he says, almost to himself. “Okay. Is there anything else?”
“No…no. Not at all.”
That night I drop the diamond into the third mainland bridge lagoon.
PHONE
I have found that the best way to take your mind off something is to binge-watch TV shows. The hours pass by and I lie on my bed, stuffing my mouth with groundnuts and staring at my laptop screen. I lean forward and type in the address to Femi’s blog, but my efforts are met with a 404. His blog has been taken down. He no longer exists for the online world; he can no longer exist for me. He is beyond my reach now in death, as he would have been in life.
My phone vibrates and I consider ignoring it, but I reach forward and drag it toward me.
It’s Ayoola.
My heart skips a beat.
“Hello?”
“Korede.”