STORY(2)

I lay in bed, staring into space. I have just eaten the last garri in the house. I have no idea where the next meal will come from. I would have considered begging any of my neighbours but I dread the probable humiliation I'd receive. I have long become a laughing stock amongst even the poorest of persons. The poor call me poor. As my eyes move to and fro, from the cracks on the floor to the openings on the ceiling, I hear the honk of a car. A million thoughts race through my mind. Could it be a creditor? Or maybe an old friend. It takes a few minutes for me to garner enough courage to step out. I step outside to see a Toyota Venza, 2016 model parked right in my compound. I'm too shocked to move. As I stand glued to the ground, gazing intently, he alights from the car. My mouth goes open in shock, my legs are suddenly too weak to carry my weight, my eyes almost pop out of their sockets.
'Mama?'
'Eeeh... Eee... Ejike. My son!' He walks up to me, confidence oozing out of him. Ejike had always been confident. Even my kicking around and bullying back then could not rid him of his confidence.
'Mama,' he says, his long arms hugging me. He quickly releases me and asks, 'Where is my father?'
'Your... your father?'
'Yes. I have come to see him. Where is he?'

Two Years Ago...
'My wife...' he said, and paused to draw in a deep breath. 'I have very little time left here,' he continued with much effort.
'No, my husband. You're staying with me. You... you'll come out of this,' I said as I held his near-flaccid hand in mine. I stared at his bare chest and at his belly that once stood out in its massiveness. It was now as flat as a slate. The tears I had been trying to hold back were let loose and flowed unrestricted. I saw a bead of it fall on his arm. I was relieved to see that his eyes were shut. 'He's asleep. He did not see my tears,' I sighed in relief. I cried a river as I stared some more at my dying husband: his pale and saggy skin, his emaciated structure, the drool at the left corner of his mouth. It was saddening, utterly depressing to see my better half stuck in this debilitating condition for the past 2 months. All the profit he had made from his job as a mechanic these past few years, all my little gains from my petty trade had been consumed by this illness. An illness that had defied both herbal medicine and pharmaceuticals. No doctor had been able to arrive at a diagnosis.
'My dear...' I turned to see Nnamdi wide awake, staring weakly at me. I quickly made to wipe my face with one end of my wrapper. 'I wish I could linger with you. I wish I would not have to leave you now. But with each passing moment, I see my life ebbing away.'
'My husband...'
'Nkechi, listen to me...' he said before a throaty cough cut him short. 'You've been a good wife, and I appreciate you for that. But you were never a mother to my son, Ejike. He ran away from home, yes. But I strongly suspect that it was because of the way you treated him. And it hurts that I'd never set eyes on him again. I wish I could behold him one last time before my sojourn here comes to an end. Oh, I wish I had done better as a father. I let you turn me against my only child.'

My late husband was right. Only that he did not know the whole truth, the truth that would have made him die with seething hatred for me. Ejike did not run away from home, I kicked him out. Ejike, the son my husband's late wife bore him, was a handful for me. I wanted to wield total control over him, like I did with his father. But he proved to be more than I could handle. So I got rid of him, after all efforts to bring him to total subjection met with failure. He was 19 at that time. Now that he's back, and his father is 6 feet deep in mother earth, what can I do?