The Second Sight – Episode 13

THE SECOND SIGHT EPISODE 13
®20+ SNVL

A FATHER’S LOVE
Location: Various

Yaw Boat calls his father.

The way things are going, he had expected his phone to jam up. Maybe the wide-world phone reception would be messed up, not for everybody, no sir, but only for him, no calling for Mr. Yaw Boat.

But, surprisingly, the lines are not messed up.

The phone call goes through all the way to Ontario, Canada.

Boat has a lot of emergency numbers which his old man had given me. He can reach his father in almost any country. The numbers are mostly where his father lodged in any particular country.

The phone goes priinnnn-prinnn…priinnnn-prinnn in his ears.

Damn, the call is really going through!

Suddenly he hears a voice in his ears, one of those melodious female voices which makes you picture a face instantly, and makes you crave to meet its owner.

It rattles on in his ear, and Boat demands to speak to his father. The voice demands to know who is calling, please.

BOAT

Yaw Boat, his son.

There is a sudden intake of breath, a new note of humility, a hurried plea for him to hold on a second, please, and then a second later, his father’s rich baritone voice booms in his ear, full of concern … worried, loving, tender.

JOE BOAT

(tenderly)

Junior? How’re you, son? Been trying to reach you, my boy, but the network has been lousy!

He sounds so close and gentle, as if he is sitting right beside Boat with an arm draped across his shoulder, one of his favourite postures when he is with his son.

Boat is so overcome by his strong love for his father and by how much he misses his old man that tears come to his eyes and almost ease into his face, and he has to swallow rather painfully and steel his nerves to prevent himself from bawling like a baby.

And then the floodgates open and he begins to blabber to his father.

The words rattle out of his mouth, and he keeps on rambling, telling him of all that has happened from the moment he met Pastor Paul Anderson, leaving nothing out.

Boat is amazed at how the words come pouring out of his soul. It is damn uncanny, the way he suddenly feels like a child, desperately needing a shoulder to cry on, terribly needing comfort and solace from his father.

It makes Boat remember Miss. Prim, a golden-feathered parrot one of his teachers used to own when he was in Secondary School.

Mr. Prempeh, the physics lecturer, often boasted about how smart his parrot was. He sometimes went too far, comparing the intellect of his students to that of Miss. Prim, telling them that if they had been half as smart as the parrot it wouldn’t have been necessary for him to spend hours lecturing.

The thing was, Miss. Prim could never stop yapping. She would pick up on any little phrase that caught her fancy and pour it out for hours in her cage.

One day Miss. Prim began chucking out a particular sentence that had turned Mr. Prempeh blue.

MISS PRIM

(stridently)

Oh, yes, Ebo, my love, don’t stop! Harder, Ebo, harrrrrrrder!!

Fact was, Ebo was Mrs. Prempeh’s supposed colleague at work, and a pal of Mr. Prempeh.

Mr. Ebo used to come on visits especially on weekends when Mr. Prempeh was lecturing.

After hearing Miss Prim’s passionate new lines, Mr. Prempeh had not found it hard putting two and two together.

It turned out he had been having his own little suspicions for a while, and smart Miss. Prim provided the smart summary.

He had been filled with incensed wrath, and had pummelled his wife until she gave the final admission that she had indeed been having an unholy affair with Mr. Ebo.

Mr. Prempeh had driven straight to Mr. Ebo’s house and almost killed him.

It had landed him afoul of the law, and the scandal had been long and smelly, and finally Mr. Prempeh had divorced his wife. He had seemed at peace outwardly, but something unpalatable was happening in his house.

It seemed that Miss. Prim was so taken by her latest phrase – probably buoyed up by the passionate note it had been uttered in – that she just couldn’t stop screaming it out with amazing clarity and astonishing passion time and over again.

Mr. Prempeh got up one evening when Miss. Prim roared out her cry. He got his gun and shot the poor bird clean in her cage.

Needless to say, he stopped comparing the intellect of that talkative bird with that of his students.

That evening, Yaw Boat feels like Miss Prim as he pours out his heart to his father. He feels like if he doesn’t drop dead, he could speak for ages.

Finally, however, he dries out. There is silence on the other side for a long time. Boat can only hear the faint static in the background.

BOAT

(hoarsely)

Dad? Are you still on the line?

JOE BOAT

(awed)

Yes, son, I am! You have the gift of the Unblinds?

Boat is silent for a moment with total incomprehension. It seems to him that all his father heard was that part, and he seems totally unaffected by the ordeal Boat had been through and just enumerated to him.

Secondly, Boat has not used foul term in his narration: Unblind!

He speaks carefully.

BOAT

(softly)

Dad, you used Pastor Anderson’s term. The Unblinds. You know about that?

JOE BOAT

(exultantly)

Of course I do! I knew a man of God who had such a gift a long time ago, but of course I didn’t completely believe it then. I can’t believe this has happened to you, Junior. I can imagine the kind of hell you’re going through, of course, but I’m so happy. At least, you’re going to be a true believer and forsake your sinful ways!

BOAT

(forlornly)

I’m suffering, Dad! I’m absolutely terrified! I don’t know how long I can hold on before going stark raving mad!

When he replies, his father’s voice is gentle, full of love.

JOE BOAT

I can imagine, Junior. But you’re making it hard for yourself, my son. All you have to do is accept your gift by accepting Christ as your Lord and personal saviour, then no evil will be able to harm you. Listen, I’m cutting this stay short. I’ll be down there in Ghana tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you and share this great miracle with your. I never imagined that your transition from sin to grace would be crowned with such an amazing gift.

BOAT

(softly)

I’m scared, Dad. I’m sorry, but I can’t live with this damn thing. I’ve been seeing things … very bad things! I can’t cope with it, Dad!

When his father speaks, his voice is now frosted over. It is a voice Boat has come to hear less frequently, because he uses it on those occasions when he is particularly irked and his son has tested his patience.

JOE BOAT

(tautly)

You’re speaking like a fool, Junior. What do you think is happening? You think what you’re going through is some kind of movie? Have you bothered to ask yourself the salient questions? If you’ll think deeper and see what the future holds, you’ll realize what an amazing lifeline you’ve been given. The man told you there are only two choices for you … either you get God, or you get this demon that is planning to inhabit your body and use it for evil! Have you asked yourself why you’re still alive? Do you know why evil is protecting you so much?

BOAT

(humbled)

Protecting me, Dad?

JOE BOAT

(earnestly)

Think about Mr. Stebbins, my son! Think about Geoffrey Sam. If your accounts are accurate, and I do believe they are, have you wondered why Pastor Sam died? You wondered why he was a pastor, and yet didn’t have this protective field you described. But his wife had it! Stop deluding and feeling sorry for yourself, son. There are no neutral choices here. Whatever happens, your life will never be the same. You only have two choices, life and death. I love you more than anything in the world, my son, but my love can’t help you if you switch to the other side and allow a demon to possess you like Stebbins is possessed.

Boat is rendered speechless.

JOE BOAT

You now have a chance to become one of the Chosen Ones. You have been favoured and shown divine mercy. You’re a forefront soldier now, and although I don’t really know how all that will pan out in the end, or how you’re going to use your amazing gift, I’ll be there to give you all the support you’ll require every step of the way. Look, we’ll go to Anderson together, and you’ll have all my wealth at your disposal. No matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side, son.

BOAT

(plaintively)

Dad, I’m not a man of God. There are things you don’t know about me, things I’ve hidden from you all these years. I’m not one of you, Dad. I’ve pretended to be a Christian just to please you, but I’m not.

His father sighs, and Boat can imagine him nodding his head.

JOE BOAT

I know you’re into drugs, son. I know you use drugs, and sell drugs! I know you’ve been fornicating with any woman willing to open her thighs for you. Your life has filled me with pain, wondering where I went wrong as a father. For many years I’ve been praying for you, hoping that a miracle will happen and God will touch you. Do you know why? It’s because one day when I meet your mother again I’ll want you to be by my side too. I promised your mother, son, before she died, that I’ll raise you well. That was her one wish!

Yaw Boat’s body is jerked forcibly back into his seat as if he has been shot.

His father’s words carve into him like hot knives through butter.

BOAT

(heartbreakingly)

You knew? All along, Dad?

JOE BOAT

Yes, Junior. I’ve known about the seedy things you’ve been doing for a long time. There is nothing I don’t know about you, because you’re my son, and I love you. I’ve known you’re on the road to destruction, and it shattered me. I’ve been through pain because of how you’ve turned out, and it came to a point when I almost gave up, because I blamed God for letting my son go to such waster, but I never gave up on you. I still continued to pray and fast for you, and now it has all been made clear to me. Evil had terrible plans for you, and I thank God that He saw it fit to take you from the gutter and use you. That is how wonderful He can be sometimes. There are so many things you need to learn. Wait for me, Junior. I’m coming home to help you.

BOAT

(in a small lost voice)

Yes, Dad.

It seems this is inevitable, and there is nothing he can do about it at the moment, and once again his father’s love – so sincere and true, so warm and huge – shrouds Boat, and he feels tears swelling in his eyes again, and a painful lump in his throat.

Love does that sometimes.

Boat is relieved when they say their emotional goodbyes and he cuts the call.

He can wait.

His father is on his way back to help him.

It is a really a nice feeling compared to the very black abyss he had been sinking into before calling his father.

Yes, he will wait for his father.

But first, however, there are some things he has to do in town, much as I loathes the idea of going out, and setting eyes on those damn uglies again.

He is shocked and mollified by the fact that his old man knows about his seedy life of drugs and sex.

He can just imagine his father’s horror, his pain, and his distaste. He shudders to think of what pain he might have caused his father.

It is a sobering thought that leaves a sour taste in his mouth. The can of worms is now open, and they are squirming out into the open now.

He isn’t really sure about what is going to happen, but having a clean slate with his old man is very refreshing, and he can only hope that the future will bring with it a better Yaw Boat.

He has never wanted to drag his old man into his sordid life, but it seems his father understands, and knows that it had been out of Boat’s control.

The idea that he had not been in control of his actions, of his destiny, of his will, acutely disgusts him, and fills him with a raging fury.

It is like he had been stripped naked in public and had been unaware of it. Humans are naturally full of pride, and they thrive on dignity and the fact that they are in control of their lives, from dawn till dusk, that they write the patterns of their life. Take that away, and the dignity of man is reduced to emptiness, to a lifeless void.

And that was exactly what has happened to him.

He has been manipulated and controlled, unknowingly, and it makes him seethe with rage.

But no more!

He cannot be what Anderson – and his Dad – want him to be. The thought of being an Unblind gives Boat the shudders, and repulses him beyond imagination.

However, he knows he has to clean up his act, especially now that he knows what a dreadful son he has been to his father.

Boat still has some coke money with him. He has sold Bob Sarpong’s cocaine to his special clients, and now he has to account for the money.

Money for Bob, less Boat’s commission.

The truth is that Boat doesn’t want the commission anymore.

He now wants nothing to do with drugs again, at least for the time being. What he has seen has blown him clear out of the water. It was time to give Bob Sarpong his money, and that will be Boat’s break from drugs.

So Boat hits the town once more.

He leaves his damaged Mercedes in the garage and takes one of his father’s cars, a Toyota Land Cruiser.

The weather is cool and fine.

It is a nice day for those who have normal eyes, of course.

But to Boat, it is a hell he has to endure as he sees the uglies swinging around town everywhere he turns.

They fill his sights with their lewd antics.

Once again it strikes Boat how terrible it all is, how futile life really is. So many people, and yet the number of people he sees who have that glorious force-field can be counted on his fingers. Fury fills his heart when he sees what these uglies are doing to innocent unsuspecting people, but that wrathful emotion isn’t strong enough to send him on the road to hunt them down.

He just doesn’t want to see them; he wants to be blinded once more, and live his life in blinded peace.

With great difficulty and fear Boat drives to Bob’s apartment with his money.

____________________

BOB’S THREAT

Location: BOB’S APARTMENTS

Bob is a weird guy who has always baffled Boat.

Boat has never been able to figure Bob out.

Bob is the kind of guy who is always careful. He is meticulous and thorough, and never believes in rushing things, and yet he had bumped into a girl at a railway station and in less than a week later they were married. The girl had been knocked down by a car, and had died as a result, two days after their wedding.

And what had Bob Reynolds done after he lost his wife? He took three girls to bed whilst she was still lying in the morgue and had himself a group sex through the night.

He is the kind of guy who will go mad at you for swapping a fly, or squashing a cockroach. Boat had once seen Bob carefully removing a beetle from a spider’s web, making sure that the beetle flew away unharmed.

He had also seen Bobo spending twelve minutes, whilst they were late for an appointment, to free a squirming worm from the clutches of killer ants, and putting the worm on a safe portion of grassland.

And in spite of that kindness to a worm and to a beetle, Boat has also seen Bob taking a baseball bat to the knees of one of his men who had stolen from him, and hit the man so hard and so many times that he had become lame in one leg.

There is also an occasion when Bob had cut off the nose of a man he claimed was more than a brother to him, and all this man had done was spend some of Bob’s cocaine money.

Bob Sarpong is thus the most unpredictable person Boat has ever seen, and he is thankful for the fact that he and Bob understands each other, and have mutual respect for each other. He likes Bob, though. He had shown Boat a part of the world he never existed, and had been like the older brother Boat never had.

At thirty-six, Bob has premature iron-grey hair. He has the fine, chiselled lines of a Greek aristocrat. He is five foot seven and has a tight wiry frame. He has demonstrated awesome strength time and again, and knows how to take care of himself. Of course any illiterate who can rise to such heights of power and wealth would have to be damn capable of taking care of himself, especially on the African drug terrain where lives are snuffed out at the snap of fingers.

Bob has two condos in town, and has a craze for fishing boats. He keeps an apartment, located in Sweet Meadows Avenue, one of the seediest parts of Accra, for his projects. He has a loyal band of cutthroats and spies in Sweet Meadows, and that makes him feel safe. Cunning and not afraid to give out fat monies to the locals, he also has high-ranking crooked cops on his payroll, and that has kept him out of trouble and out of prison for a long time.

Boat parks the Land Cruiser on the curb, where he always does, and walks through the meandering alleys to Bob’s dark apartment which serves as the base for his operations. Stagnant pools of water surround the building. The place stinks, and mice as huge as human calves scurry in the darkness.

Boat wouldn’t have lived in Sweet Meadows for all the riches in the world, but of course Bob is like a chameleon, and can blend anywhere. The dirty apartment in the seediest part of the neighbourhood serves him well, and makes him keep as low a profile as possible. He used to tell Boat that he had lived in worst places. Boat had always wondered what kind of childhood Bob had had.

Boat knocks sharply on the door. After a moment it opens, and he finds himself looking into the grim face of Ali.

Ali is almost as tall as Boat, but dangerously lean. He is always in black suit and transparent glasses. He has the eyes of a killer. Ali does most of Bob’s dirty works. He is fiercely loyal to Bob; as loyal as a blind dog. His eyes bore into Boat without expression, and then he stands aside and motions Boat to enter.

The interior of the room belies its dirty stinking exterior. It is expensively-furnished and air-conditioned, providing a welcomed relief from the heat outside. Ali nods towards a closed door which leads to the bedroom.

Boat knocks once on the door, and then he enters.

BOB

(lazily)

Yaw, my nigga, come in! Come in and make yourself comfortable. What would you like, my brother? A drink, coffee, coke or a screw? You can have any combination too if you wish!

Boat’s eyes begin to adjust to the semi-darkness.

Bob bursts into raucous laughter after his speech.

He is dead stoned on cocaine.

He is wearing white boxer shorts and a flannel mauve gown. He is standing behind a huge desk on top of which are three bulky transparent sachets filled with cocaine.

He mixes a little cocaine on a blotter on the desk, bends and puts his nose to it, and blows the coke with loud sniffing sounds. He groans and stretches his arms, bucking like a bull in heat, white crystalline particles smearing his nostrils.

Boat looks away from him with a little shudder of disgust. Only a day ago he would have joined Bob and sniffed his way to oblivion, but I only has disgust for the drug baron now.

On the four-poster bed in the room are two girls, an Asian and a Black woman, both totally nude. They are touching each other gently and kissing passionately.

They are unperturbed by Boat’s presence.

The Asian girl looks at Boat, smiles lustfully, and clamps hot lips on the black woman’s nip*le being pushed into her mouth. Judging from the bulge in Bob’s shorts and the little wet patch clearly outlined by the bulge, Boat doesn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce what Bob had been doing before Boat came into the room.

Bob reaches across the table, picks up a bottle of scotch, tilts it, and slugs heavily. He shakes his head and smiles at Boat dazedly, and then he crosses to the bed.

He grins wolfishly and grabs the waist of the Asian girl, caressing her crudely between her thighs, and then he looks over at Boat with mock astonishment.

BOB

(slurring)

Yaw, my boy, the bed is big enough. Get out of those clothes and grab yourself a pu$$y-lunch and stop standing there like a damn fool! What’s wrong with you anyway? Why are you behaving all funny, staring at me as if you’ve seen Frankenstein’s creatures on my damn face, huh?

Bob doesn’t know that Boat is trying to stifle a scream as well. If it had been Frankenstein’s creatures, Boat would have been much happier.

But, embedded deep in Bob, is a monstrously terrible demon which strikes unimaginable terror into Boat’s heart.

It is just like looking into the soul of hell. It is a purplish-green colour, and its skin is bunched up like a thousand-year-old hag’s. Its nose is long and malformed, exploding outward in real ugliness, punctured by a huge, pinkish hole that seems to bulge out and ooze goo. Its ears are flat and broad, plastered to the cone-shaped, hairless head.

Its three arms jut out from a convex chest, the point of attachment looking so red it seems to be bleeding. Its stomach is so pushed in that its chest stands out in ugly prominence.

Below the waist it is indistinct. A giant eye burns on a narrow forehead, surrounded by multi-coloured skin-like folds that looks festered and wet. Its mouth is a permanently-opened “O”, the lips fat folds that fall back, revealing purplish inner layers. Inside that horror of a mouth, wriggling in there, beating furiously and violently, are thousands of snake-like creatures.

Tendrils of shimmering limbs stretches from it to the two naked girls, and it seems to be caressing them, seeking out spots and tender points on their lovely bodies.

It is so intent on whatever hellish satisfaction it is getting that it doesn’t look at Boat at first until Boat lets out his pent-up breath of fear in a heavy sigh-groan that he cannot prevent.

Boat’s mind is about to explode, the terror reaching out to grab his throat. If only he could have screamed his head off, sanity would have prevailed. But panic and horror keep his scream locked, and only that gasping, choking sigh-groan emerges from his tortured throat.

The demon’s head whips up, and a snarl-like look comes into its face, causing Boat to twist his head aside so suddenly and so hard that he feels a sharp pain in his neck. He simply cannot look into such fiendish fury, such evil incarnate with a stoic expression.

His stomach heaves and knots, and he fights down the bile that rises in his throat. The sweat that breaks out on his face and drips into his collar is not induced by atmospheric changes, but by sheer cowardice brought on by a sight so horrific that he wishes he has stayed away, at least until the damn curse is lifted off him.

And to admit that he is a coward, on some level, really makes him sick.

BOB

(calmly)

What’s wrong with you, Yaw? For crissakes, boy, are you sick? Why do you look like that, boy?

Boat looks away from Hideous the Demon again, but he doesn’t fail to notice that it is now looking intently at him, its evil face looking puzzled for a moment.

BOAT

(softly)

I’m fine, Bobby. Really fine, dog.

He moves on rubbery legs to the desk, carefully keeping his back to that thing inside Bob, and places the small, black case in his hand on the bed. Bob silently moves to the desk, his crafty eyes never leaving Boat’s perspiring face.

He goes behind the desk and sits down.

Boat notices that Bob’s erection has gone down.

He also sees, with great relief, that Hideous the Demon is no longer embedded in Bob.

Boat wonders where the demon is.

The two girls are moaning behind him, and he wonders if Hideous is still with them, spicing up their lesbian lust.

Boat feels a sudden tingle running down his spine as he looks at Bob, and sees the look in the drug lord’s eyes. A drugged-up Bob is a highly lethal and unpredictable entity, and Boat knows that he is suddenly walking on a precipice, and has to choose his steps carefully.

BOB

(with a tight smile)

You’re behaving in a mighty f****ng way today, Boatboy.

He picks up the case and opens it. He rans his hand over the crisp cedi notes within, and smiles again.

BOB

(with a wink)

You’re doing real fine, kid. Me and you are going places, believe me. We’ll conquer and rule Africa, my nigga!

Bob opens a drawer with combination locks and begins to pack the money into it, and when it is safely stored away he picks up three tight bundles of cocaine on the desk and begins to put them in the case Boat had packed the money in.

Business as usual.

This is Boat’s allocation for the week. More dope, more money, more tragedy. He is going to sell the cocaine, as usual, to his clientele.

But not anymore.

After what he is seeing, there is no way Boat is going to be able to do the cocaine business ever again.

It sickens him now.

Suddenly he feels nauseated and totally sick of the whole place. His chest is congested, and he feels a weird hotness all over his body. He just wants to get out of the apartment and breathe the clean air outside.

Bob picks up a fat cigar from a pack on the desk. He trims off the end with a gold-plated cutter, puts it into his mouth and then picks up a lighter. He hesitates, and then he takes out the cigar and wags it at Boat.

BOB

You’ve been doing real good, Boatboy. I like your game, and I’m going to take care of you. I’m moving on, Yaw. This sh*t ghetto is getting too hot for me. The new cops are too straight, and difficult to buy. A particular bunch are masturbating down my neck, trying to take me down at all cost. That kind of crap ain’t healthy for a guy like me. I want to expand my horizons, make bigger money. I want to give you this market, Yaw. I want you in charge here to handle all my affairs here, to handle all major operations. That comes with higher profit margins and respect. The future looks f****ng bright for you, Boatboy!

Boat says nothing.

Just a few days ago this would have been the greatest news to him, worth celebrating for one week, but not now. Now Boat just feels sickened, and wants nothing to do with the drug market ever.

Bob scowls and puts the cigar in his mouth, lights up, exhales smoke, and looks at Boat, his face suddenly deadpan.

BOB

I offered you the f****ng world, Yaw, and all you can say is absolute silence? What the f**k is the matter with you today? Should I be getting worried about you, my nigga, huh? You know me… I don’t like getting worried about people where business is concerned. I don’t like the way you’re drifting, boy.

The groans of the girls are really embarrassing now. Boat wonders what they are doing to each other behind him. He looks at Bob straight in the eyes.

It has to be now.

BOAT

(softly)

You’re right, Bob. Something indeed has happened to me. I’m done, my brother. I want out. I’ve just delivered my last run. I’m really grateful for all that you’ve done for me, but I can’t go on any longer, at least not now. I’m bowing out. I’ll still be your friend and your brother. We’ll still rock the town and have fun together, as always. Nothing changes, except that I ain’t selling drugs for you anymore.

Bob’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes doesn’t leave Boat’s face.

One of the girls lets out a sharp half-wail of pleasure like a werewolf.

BOB

(softly)

Shut the f**k up over there, cvnt!

He must have pushed a secret button under the desk, because the door opens softly behind Boat, and Ali comes into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

Bob takes the cigar from his mouth and grinds it out viciously in an enamel ashtray on the desk. Boat notices with sudden trepidation that Bob’s knuckles are white with tension.

His jaw is working viciously, and when he looks up at Boat, his eyes have gone completely crazy, and it drives a sharp fear into Boat’s heart.

Boat knows that look, and he doesn’t like it one bit. It is Bob’s look of destruction; whenever he looks like that mayhem usually follows next. He either cuts noses or baseball-bats knee-cups, or he just sticks knives into hearts, or sh00t off heads with heavy guns.

BOB

(calmly)

You disappoint me, Boatboy.

Boat recognizes that voice. It is Bob’s funeral voice. He reserves the funeral voice for the ones he loves just before he messes them up, and later he will be sad for an hour or so, continuously wiping the hints of tears from his eyes, and then later he will party hard, and that will be it.

It scares Boat now, yeah. The fact is that Boat has never thought Bob will ever go up against him, no matter what.

He had thought they mean more to each other, the whole ‘brother-from-another-mother’ thing but, incredibly, it seems Bob is going to erase him, just like all the rest.

To be continued…

©Aaron Ansah – Agyeman
All Rights Reserved.