Cracked Sources – B03E09

Andrew greeted Huey with his fist, which threw both men off balance.
Huey responded almost immediately, with three punches of his own. With Andrew
disoriented, it became easier for Huey to pin him to the floor, while Lewis and
the others watched helplessly. She begged Huey to stop, but he wouldn’t,
because Andrew fought relentlessly to be free of his clasp. This heated
exchange continued until Akin appeared. He’d been outside, waiting, for Huey’s
return with Andrew behind – as though it was going to be that easy – but since
the exercise was taking far longer than anticipated, he wanted to know the
reason.

For
reasons inexplicable, Akin’s presence caused Andrew to somehow become tranquil.
Sensing his new state of calmness, Huey arose from him, bruised, dirty, and
unwilling to say a word. Lewis ran to him, regardless of her husband’s command
that she go inside, all she wanted was to see Andrew’s pain come to an end.
Elias and Glory, with other members of the church’s prayer warriors were the
chief spectators of the brawl; they watched with rapt attention, and wondered
what would happen next.

            “What
do you want from him?” Lewis screamed, at Huey. She wanted to know why he would
want to hurt a defenseless man who he called his friend.

As
Huey walked towards Andrew, he could tell Lewis truly cared for his friend; it
was naturally that she’d think him a monster because of his assault on Andrew.
He wished things didn’t go the way they did. But, they were necessary if they
were to make headway with getting Andrew back to his true family.

“I did not wish to hurt his,” Huey apologized.

“Liar!” She screamed.

“Stop shouting, woman,” Huey interrupted her, “Believe it or not,
we’re his family, and we’ve come to take him home,” he said. He was trying hard
to convince her they were the good guys.

“That’s another lie. Andrew has no family,” Lewis lambasted.

Prophet
interrupted before they’d begin another round of warfare. He said, “You people are
desecrating the House of God. You’re committing a grievous sin.”

“What is going on here?” Huey asked, looking around, to no one in
particular. It was as though he was in the midst of people who didn’t know the
truth about life, the harsh reality of existence. As far as he was concerned,
everyone here was a joker. “I wonder who all of you are? Clearly, none of you
know the man you’ve been living with these past months.” He fired.

“I hope your God knows the value of money,” Akin cut in. He threw a
bulk of cash Prophet’s way, “That’s two hundred thousand naira,” he said.

Prophet’s
frown instantly bowed into a smile: one so wide, it nearly tore his face. He
beckoned Lewis, his wife, to let go, “Andrew belongs with his family,” he said.
He called them ‘the true sons of God.’

Huey
stretched his hands towards Andrew, he wanted him to take it, he really wanted
his friend back. The person lying on the floor wasn’t Andrew. The person might
have his face and voice, but it wasn’t him. ‘There’s
more to a person than just the physical body,’ Huey said to himself; he was
trying too hard to remain positive over the situation. He wanted to say
something to make Andrew happy, something he knew the usual Andrew couldn’t resist, “Anna would be very happy to see you,”
he said.

“Anna,” Andrew echoed. The
name struck a chord within him. He wondered, saying aloud, why the name sounded
so familiar yet distant. Akin and Huey were glad to have finally struck a
familiar chord; for unknown reasons, Anna was Andrew’s anchor back, just as the
doctor had suggested.

Huey
was glad to help answer, to clear Andrew’s doubt. “She was the love of your
life,” he said to him.

Lewis heard it, and smiled. “You wasted no time proving me wrong,” She
said. Her hands were firmly clenched to his. “Make sure you get it right this
time,” Lewis pleaded; after planting a kiss on his forehead, she rose to take
her leave.

“What about you?” Andrew asked.

Lewis
took a natural pause before she responded, “My fate is sealed in marriage to
him,” she said, throwing her sight towards her husband. “I’m happy one of us
gets a happy ending,” she added, looking back to Andrew.

            “Goodbye, Andrew.”

The drive back to the firm was mostly done in silence. Andrew took the
time to better reflect on himself, and what meaning his life held. Drenched in
his thoughts without any tangible answer, he started to throw a tantrum.  ‘Why does his return to an office hold so much meaning?’ He asked. No one answered him. He’d
give anything to remember something from his past; anything at all, no matter
how minute.

“We’re here,”
Akin announced, as he pulled over at the garage.

Huey
turned to Andrew, and said, “It’d be better if you wear this.” He threw him a
jacket with a hoodie on: it was best to avoid anyone recognizing Andrew before
he gains access to the main building.

Slowly they walked, and soon, they successfully made it into the
building. Andrew took off the hoodie and every activity around him instantly
froze. Murmurs began to resonate, and soon, a crowd gathered, people wanted to
see the man who had died and come back to
life. Andrew continued to walk, amidst shaky steps, with the guidance of
his father and friend, he successfully arrived the safe haven of his former
office, now Abigail’s, his half-sister.

The
couple who visited the firm two weeks ago in search of him were present.

            “What is this?” Abigail asked her
father, willfully avoiding speaking to Andrew. Akin took her outside to pacify
her.

            “Where have you been?” The man asked
Andrew, breaking his fixation on the door Abigail and Akin had walked through.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew apologized, impulsively,

“Where were you?” The wife asked, accompanying her questions were
tears heavy enough to drown a person’s speech.

“I was away,”

“But you promised. You said, as long as you lived, nothing was going
to happen. You promised!” She lamented further.

“My presence might have made things better, I’m sorry I wasn’t there
to help as I promised.”

Huey
swiftly moved his head; Andrew’s response shocked him. ‘Could this be the real Andrew?’ He thought. Andrew’s statement
sounded coherent, it was as though he knew the family.

As soon as the couple left, Huey rushed to Andrew; he wanted to know
if his friend was back.

“Talk to me, Andrew. Is that you?”

“Of course, it’s me, who would it be?” Andrew replied.

Huey
leapt for joy. It was Andrew. He was back!

            “How long have you been there, you
bas***d?’ Huey asked, excitedly.

            “Excuse me?”

Huey
paused. He immediately realized he had been ahead of himself thinking it was
his Andrew. Whoever the guy before him was, he was a great actor.

            “I’m sorry,’ Huey apologized, “It’s
just that your performance with the couple was good. It fooled even me,’ he
added.

            “It wasn’t a performance, I felt bad
for them. They’re on the verge of losing a daughter to an abusive man, what
type of man would be if I didn’t sympathize with them?”

“Not the Andrew I used to know.”

Andrew
paused. He thought hard on what to say, but couldn’t find the right words to
use that’ll convey his message perfectly. He wanted to remember, he truly did.
He was stuck in childhood memories while the rest of the world had moved on,
but if remembering meant he’d fit the monster Huey just described, he wasn’t
sure he wanted to anymore.

            “What about us? Your family. Your
life. Anna?” Huey asked; he was frantic. “Don’t you want to remember us?’

Andrew
squeezed his eyes hard. They felt the same way they did moments ago when he
dashed the couple’s hope, because he knew he wasn’t yet himself and could be of
no help to them. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

Huey
snapped. He kicked against the chair, door, waste-bin, every item his legs
could find. He wanted his friend back: the man with whom he humbled the most
pompous lawyer in City of Lagos.

Andrew walked out on him; he ran into Abigail at the door. The
confrontation was distasteful, as Abigail’s anger against him oozed out her
body.

As he wandered the floor, he dwelled on thoughts of his own – he didn’t
fully understand the reason for Huey’s outburst; he understood how painful it
was to not be able to reciprocate the same kind of love received, but it wasn’t
his fault he couldn’t remember anything. He wished he could be brutal. He
wished he could be angry. He wished he could pretend to be who they all wanted,
But he couldn’t. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride freely on them. He could
only be who he was now, and everyone needed to start accepting it. This was the new him, Andrew 2.0.

Patricia surfaced from a sharp bend, and ran straight into an Andrew
well lost in his thoughts. She was terribly frightened. If Andrew had shown an
inkling of recollection of their last encounter, she’d have taken to her heels,
but he didn’t, hence, she stayed, and played right into his confusion acting as
a damsel in distress.

Andrew
on his part, had a flash of memories accompanied by a huge migraine.  He called her Anna.

            Patricia shook her head in disgust.

Andrew
wouldn’t take no for an answer, so,
he held her firmly by arms. ‘Are you Anna? Are you her? Tell me. Tell me!” He
shouted.

“I’m not Anna, I’m not her,’ Patricia said. She fought her way off his
firm grip.

Realizing
what he had done, Andrew apologized, but Patricia would have none of that.
According to her, Andrew had physically assaulted her, and he best remembers
the favor she did him not pressing charges, in the near future. She walked out
on him.

Andrew
stood there, embarrassed, watching as Patricia walked away purposefully swerving
her hips to stir up feelings in him. Huey walked up to him, calling him back to
reality. Huey appeared calmer now. He had decided to take a different approach
in triggering Andrew’s memories, he was going to make him thirsty for the
things he used to love until the old Andrew comes out to play again.

“Would you feel better if I said you’ve hit that thing many times
already?”

 “He’s here,” Helen, Patrick’s wife, announced.

As
soon as she spoke, she turned her eyes back to the Mercedes that just drove
into the compound. Through the window, she admired ti*ts occupants, and watched
them hole up at her door.

Patrick
wheeled himself into the kitchen where his wife was, he wanted to know why she
hadn’t answered the door, which bell had rung six times already. Recalling her
senses, Helen dashed for the door.

The August visitor was Barr.
James, the man from Tiffany-Janes
Chamber, the same chamber that had been bombarding Patrick with various
offers to have him on their team; they kept coming with better offers each
time, until now, that a big-wig had decided to come by himself.

It
was secret, Patrick was flattered, and had actually started considering their
offer.

 “Let’s talk about respect,”
James started, “Your colleagues at Lewis’ do not respect you. That’s why none
of them has come to visit you yet,’ he said.

“Have you been spying on me?” Patrick cut him. His gaze alternated
between his wife and Barr. James.

“I had no need to,” James responded. He threw his sight at Helen,
implicating her as his informant.

Patrick
was pissed. He was faced with the reality that his wife had been conniving with
personnel of Tiffany-Janes’ Chambers all along. He had been in the dark, not
knowing his actions have been in tune with the direction his wife wanted.

            “Before you say anything,” Helen
began.

            ‘It’s okay,” Patrick interrupted
her. He turned to James, and said, “I accept.”

Barr.
James in turn was shocked, “Excuse me,” he said, he wanted to be sure he heard
him correctly.

            “I said, I accept. I’ll take the
job,” Patrick reiterated, “I’ll see you on Monday to conclude the formalities,”
he added.

Barr.
James rose, he shook hands with Patrick, gave Helen a nod, and took his leave.
Once James had left, Patrick turned his attention to a picture on the wall – it
was one that had him, Akin and Andrew smiling – it was taken after a major
trial three years ago, when things at the firm were rosy and unpolitical. He
had a mug in his hands. He threw the mug at the frame in frustration, as Helen
watched. She cringed.

            “I’m sorry,” she said.

            “For what?” Patrick asked, coyly.

            “For everything. The lies and
deceits. For all of this. For…”

            “It’s not your fault,” he said,
“It’s mine, for not knowing when to move on.”

He
wheeled his seat towards her, and placed his right hand on her chin; he
massaged them, just the way she liked it. She in turn, let her tears grease his
palm. He room was quiet. They were at peace. They were in love.