Tainted Omen

TAINTED OMEN

    “Angel,” Francis called.

    “Yes Honey.” responded Jessica.

    “It’s high time you met my parents.” He thought aloud.

     Miss Jessica Annan, the 34-year-old Ghanaian-born broadcaster who hailed from Accra the Capital city of Ghana was engaged to Engr. Francis Ababio who was also a Ghanaian and both of them resided in Accra, Ghana, but the former was yet to meet the latter’s parents who lived in as well as hailed from Kumasi - a distant province from Accra. On the contrary, Francis had severally met with her parents because she lived with them. This time, the equally 34-year-old promising bachelor thought it wise to disclose his intention to balance the equation as they were catching their funs at a relaxation joint situated in the vicinity of his place of residence. It was about 5:15pm (GMT) on Tuesday.

    “Really?” Jessica elatedly exclaimed.

    From the look on her face, she had been longing to embrace such moment. She was dark-complexioned, pretty, plump about 1.56 metres tall and was clad in a pink gown, plaited hairs, designer perfume and a pair of ash sandals coupled with her various jewelries. Right before her was an already opened bottle of cold soft drink positioned on the white round plastic table they were making use of; it was accompanied with a white straw.

     “Ya,” said Francis. “It’s time to harmonize the deal.”

     On his part, an equally opened bottle of cold stout was facing him. His white polo, blue jean trousers and white leather slippers to match made him looked smart and younger. He was sparingly fair, slim and about 1.67 metres tall.

    “The pleasure is all mine,” she enthused. “Thanks a lot!”

    “You’re welcome, dearie.”

    “So, when shall we be heading for Kumasi?” She anxiously enquired, sipped her drink via the straw.

     He sipped his too. “By the weekend.” He answered. “Would that be okay by you?”

     “Hmm….,” she murmured, recalling her schedule for the week. “Yes, of course.”

     “Fantastic.” Francis appreciated. “So we have a deal, right?”

     “Yep,” replied Jessica. “What day precisely?”

     “Probably…, Saturday.” He suggested. “What do you think?”

     “Saturday would be fine.” She assented, nodding.

       Francis glanced at his wrist watch; it was almost 6pm (GMT), which was about 7pm Nigerian time. “Wow,” he exclaimed in a low tone. “You need to be on your way now.”

      She quickly looked at hers. “You’re absolutely right,” she consented. “They must be worried now.” She added, referring to her parents.

      They both stood up, walked towards Francis’ red Toyota Primera car. “Lest I forget,” he recollected. “There’s something unclear about your dad.”

    “What’s it?”

    “I think he doesn’t feel comfortable each time he sees me around you unlike your mum.”

    “How do you mean?”

    “Maybe he doesn’t like me.”

    “Honey, why are you insinuating such a thing?” She cautioned. “Maybe he’s just being protective.”

     “Protective?”

     “Yes, you know I am his only daughter?” She thought aloud. “So, he wouldn’t like anything to happen to me.”

     “Well, if you say so.” He said, hopped into the car, and started the ignition.

     She hesitantly joined him, and they drove off.

     By the weekend, Saturday precisely, Francis and Jessica arrived Kumasi to meet with his parents as planned; they travelled in his car. The intended hosts had already been notified about the visit. The moment they got to their final destination, the hosts (Francis’ parents) likewise the guests were closely seated on a two-in-one cushion chair; their chairs were situated directly adjacent to each other.

     “Francis,” Chief Ababio called. “Go to the bar and get a bottle of Champagne.”

    “Okay, Dad.”

    Within a few seconds, the wine was served among everyone in the room in the company of four similar long glasses. Thereafter, Francis resumed his seat, crossed his legs.

    “Make yourselves comfortable.” Chief Ababio urged.

     His wife Mrs Kate Ababio smiled, appeared very elated.

    “Thank you, sir.” Jessica appreciated.

   “You’re welcome, dear.” the Chief Host said.

     There was a brief silence. “So my dear,” Chief Ababio the Chief Host broke the silence in haste. “What do you do?” he asked Jessica.

     “I am a broadcaster, sir.”

      Mrs. Kate smiled, felt fulfilled. 

     “Interesting,” Chief Ababio applauded. “Radio or Television?”

     “Radio, sir.”

     “Okay,” he rode on. “So, what’s your full name?”

     “Jessica Annan.”

     “Annan?” the female host chipped in.

     “Yes ma.”

     “From Accra, right?”

     “Yes ma.”

     “What’s your father’s name?”

     Chief Ababio alongside his son, Francis was so surprised how the woman took over the interview; more fascinatingly, hers was proceeding in breakneck speed.

    “Honourable M.P Annan.” Jessica replied.

    “Honourable Mike Annan?” She verified.

    “Yes, ma.”

    “That bastard!” Mrs. Kate thought, soured her face. “You again?” She hinted aloud, pointing one of her right fingers at the female guest.

    “What’s it, ma?” Jessica inquired.

    “What’s it?” Her hubby reiterated.

     She became moody, thereby ignoring the enquiries.

    “Mum, what’s it?” Francis added.

     She remained moody, seemed brutal.

     Jessica who couldn’t fathom the scenario, likewise others, seemed electrocuted that she almost peed on her panties.

     “You again in my life?” Mrs. Ababio reiterated, furiously stood up. “Nooo…” She ranted loudly, walked towards her matrimonial room.  

     Francis followed her to the bedroom whilst Chief Ababio and Jessica were still seated in the parlour, embarrassed. When he got to the room, his mum was already seated on the bed, looking very mean.

    “Can someone tell me what’s really going on here?” Chief Ababio shouted, seated still.

     Jessica began to sob, stood up and attempted to walk away.

    “Jessica…” Chief Ababio called tenderly. “Sit down, my dear.” He urged, paused. “I must get to the root of this, today.” He eventually assured her.

    She heeded the advice, went back to her sit, still sobbing.

    Immediately, Francis and his mum returned to the parlour. “Mum has something to share with us.” Francis announced having gotten the awaited gist, then went back to his seat and cuddled his fiancée. “Be strong, okay?” He enjoined her.

    Jessica nodded, became sparingly strong again.

    Mrs. Kate joined her hubby in the chair, then took time to share the unknown story, which was long overdue.

      Down the memory lane; about 36 years back, Jessica’s father Hon Mike Annan jilted Francis’ mother Mrs. Kate Ababio when they were still single. Then, the young Kate who was obsessed with Mike was engaged to him and they were about to tie the connubial knots, not until one fateful morning when Mike boldly walked up to her and notify her that he was no longer interested in the proposed marriage for an undisclosed reason. More painfully, few weeks later, she learnt that he had wedded another woman who later begot Jessica among others. Mrs. Kate had some time ago shared the memorable story with her husband, Chief Ababio, but it seemed he couldn’t recall the name of the man in question.   
     So, when Mrs. Kate Ababio shouted ‘You again?’, she was actually referring to Hon Mike Annan; she couldn’t imagine that the image of that very man who she could best be described as a ‘monster’ would appear in her precious life again.

    This is exactly the reason Jessica’s dad had been uncomfortable whenever he saw Francis around his daughter; he was definitely suffering from guilty conscience. And, he was of the view that their proposed marriage wouldn’t work if Francis’ mum got to realize Jessica’s parental background.

     “What?” Jessica shouted the moment she absorbed the gist as being narrated by Mrs. Kate.

     “My dear,” Mrs. Kate called Jessica frankly. “My son can’t marry you.” She declared unequivocally.

     “Mum, please don’t talk like that.” Francis quarreled.

     Chief Ababio who recollected the story the moment it was disclosed to the gathering was speechless, couldn’t utter even a word.

     Jessica hastily stood up, dashed out of the sitting room. Conspicuously she couldn’t withstand the tainted omen. Her fiancé joined her but she warned him to steer clear of her. Therein, she set her journey back to Accra in an aggressive and devastated mood.

    Who knows what would happen to her father when she got home? Think about it, till we meet next week!

       

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