CHAPTER SEVEN
ONE WOULD THINK Saturday was work-free.
Not if you work for High Chief Justice Forase, a man who couldn't differentiate between work-time and personal time. He managed to have fun even in the midst of work and had termed Mark a bore for being too serious always with work.
Mark stood patiently at the parking lot and watched the car pull in. He hesitated just for a second when the Chief Judge struggled to highlight with more energy than usual. It wasn't quite unusual, really. It only meant he hadn't gone home since yesterday. His work clothes from yesterday were stinking. For a man of his caliber, he was quite the drunk. Although Mark had never seen or witnessed him drink to stupor, he'd been pretty close to it just last week.
He began to wonder whose unfortunate daughter had warmed the old mans bed. Thankfully, he didn't have to witness firsthand the Chief Judge make fool of himself after sharing his thought of not being a part his entourage whenever he went on such miscellaneous escapades.
Mark waited as his boss stepped out smelling of alcohol and strong floral perfume which didn't do justice to Mark's already nauseous stomach. It was convulsive the smell that assailed his nostrils. He thought he'd be immune to such feeling of gagging on his own vomit. Whatever did go on between his boss and those university girls, he didn't want to think about especially when his little sister was a student also.
Mark managed not to wrinkle his nose at the ugly smell as the Chief Judge chuckled, then choked but was able to bring it under control before anyone else could detect it.
Barely quelling the urge to shake his head, Mark watched the older man walk into the building, and he set about to remove the stigma of whatever promiscuity that his boss had engaged in from the car, then went to the office to bring out fresh clothing. While his boss changed, Mark stayed outside, wondering if it was a good idea to bring up last night.
∞ ∞ ∞
Giddy was the better adjective to describe how she felt. Not even her mother could put her off, her usual rambling couldn't dampen it. The sudden surge of inexplicable joy bubbling in her heart was indescribable. Her mother was so busy trying to rile her up, though she couldn't let her succeed, not at such a rare occasion when all she wanted to do was hug and give her mother a loud, smacking kiss.
“Mother,” Although impatient, she managed to sound quite calmly. She patiently waited by the door with Rita eagerly clutching her hand.
“Go, I'll meet you there.” Mrs. Aisha said.
Samantha began to suspect her mother was trying to avoid someone at the courthouse. It wasn't everyday her mother refuses a chance to introduce her to some prospective suitors. Every opportunity, she utilized especially the courthouse, where she insisted had a whole stream of young and successful businessmen flock in and out. It would be so nice to find out who, or what was getting at her mom for a change. That could remove the limelight from her even if just for a few minutes.
“I'm not a child, Samantha.” Her mother said, irritably. “I can find my way to the courthouse without you to act as my chaperone.”
Seeing as it wasn't going to change her mother’s mind, Samantha sighed. “Okay, mother. You know my meeting is not going to take long, and we have to be at Aunt Fatima's wedding early to help take care of things.”
“The money we sent should be enough.” Mrs. Aisha replied angrily. “We don't have to get our hands dirty for them to know we were there.”
Samantha immediately regretted mentioning her aunts wedding, wanting to escape before she got a reminder that she was yet to grant her mother the privilege of organizing her own daughter's wedding. “We’ll be at the Chief Justice Forase's office, Mother.” Quickly stepping out of the house with her sister.
Thank God for mercies that she missed whatever her mother said. It wasn't everyday she escaped a confrontation with her mother. She meant to celebrate this small victory.
With just a few minutes to spare, she took her time settling in her car and ensuring her sisters seat belt was secure before pulling out of her house.
∞ ∞ ∞
It was unusually hot outside the office but Mark didn't feel like going back into his office. The frown deepened on his face. He didn't want to be around when she arrived. Better to tell his boss he needed to use the restroom on the first floor. Then, his boss would badger him with questions like, 'what happened to the one in your office?' And his reply would probably be, 'The plumbing is bad and the entire place is flooded.' That would have the old man looking at him skeptically, not believing his lie.
He had too good a record to spoil with a small lie that even didn't sound believable. Better stay and face her. After all, he didn't owe her anything.
Suddenly, he felt angry all over again. How could she believe he'd sabotage her case? True, he wanted to be in her good graces, but as a friend she could trust. She had no idea the things Justice Mohammed had said about her.
The prickles of sweat that suddenly attacked his palms alerted him of her presence.
For love's sake!
He quickly released the top button of his shirt, wondering why he didn't forgo the jacket today. It was Saturday, after all. He turned away when he spotted her from the other end.
”Mark, …”
Quick steadying breaths and a small prayer later, he turned to face her, more in control and forced a polite indifference into his voice. “Ms. Barigha.”
She bit her lower lip, “Listen, I…”
“Look, …” Not giving her any chance to ruffle him further, “... personal vendetta aside, the Chief Judge has an engagement in an hour's time and I assured him you'd be here in time, so thank you for being prompt.” He paused, giving her an odd look when he saw the disappointment on her face.
He set his jaw. This was what she wanted. He wouldn't allow himself feel guilty about his response. “I'll let him know you're here.”
He led her into his office, he indicated for them to sit, barely glancing at the child with her. He didn't want to spend another second in her presence, so, he quickly went in to inform his boss of his appointment.
∞ ∞ ∞
Samantha puzzled over Mark's attitude, knowing that he was angry at her but not sure how to go about apologizing when he was obviously trying to avoid her. She kept her smile in place and let him lead her into his office. It was very spacious with his corner at one end and a waiting area at the other.
“Mark, please…” He paused, his hand about to open the door to the Chief Judge's office but did not turn around.
“I'll let the Chief Judge know you're here.” Cutting her abruptly and before she could form a coherent reply, he disappeared into the office.
She blinked to clear her mind and thought this was obviously not the time or place to engage in such a conversation. Especially with her baby sister present.
Two could play this game then, Samantha thought, and she schooled her features into her professional mask by the time he came out to announce the Chief Judge was ready to see her.
She gave him a polite smile and nodded, “Rita, be good.”
Rita nodded in sweet innocence. The single gesture melted her heart before she turned to face Mark. “Keep an eye on her, please.”
Without guile, she noted the look on his face as he seemed to register the little girl's presence for the first time. Mark's eyes whipped to her with shock as she turned her back to him and went into the Chief Justice of Nigeria's office, with a huge smile in her face. Little did she know that she had left a bug in his throat too big to swallow.
∞ ∞ ∞
The child sat demurely in the waiting area and brought out her smart phone. In what felt like a millennium, Mark stared at the face he could not get out of his mind, so focused on the activity on her screen.
Mark refused to believe what he saw as he stood there, watching the preteen -obviously, repeatedly swipe at the phone's screen and then gave a triumphant 'whoop!'
Curious, he approached her, careful not to scare her. She didn't seem to notice him as he came closer to her. Unsure what to say to her, he simply stood there watching her.
“You know, it's very rude to stare.” She said without looking away from her phone.
Completely flabbergasted at her comment, he chuckled, thinking how very much like Samantha she sounded. He decided to brave a step and sat down, putting as much distance as he could between them.
Thinking of what to say, he said the first thing that came to mind. 'You look a lot like your mom.'
She gave him a side look. “You've met my mother?”
He considered his answer very carefully before responding. “Yes, I have. But I didn't know she had a child your age.”
She looked at him fully now and sighed. “I don't think you've met my mother. If you can act this nervous around an eleven-year-old, one look from my mother will have you running for cover.”
Feeling amused now, Mark scooted closer but maintained a civil distance. “I'm curious, how is it Samantha never mentioned you?”
The child stopped pretending not to be interested in talking to him and gave him her full attention, turning slightly to face him. “Miss Samantha doesn't need to tell the whole world that she has a baby sister that is eleven.” Almost as an afterthought, she asked very curiously. 'You know miss Samantha very well?”
Not sure how to answer that, he asked instead. “Why do you call her Miss Samantha and not mom?”
She rolled her eyes and gave him a 'dumb much?' look. “You don't expect me to call my big sister just ‘Samantha'. Besides, mother will have both our heads if I call Miss Samantha 'mom'.”
This child must be very good at play-acting. She sounded so sincere and innocent. He couldn't believe what she told him when what he was seeing spoke so loud and clear.
“So, Miss Samantha is not your mom?”
The look she gave him was one of pure disbelief and rolled her eyes, shaking her head as if to say, 'didn't you hear anything I said?'
∞ ∞ ∞
“Thank you for coming on such a short notice.”
The Chief Judge patted her back in paternal hug and stepped back, going round to sit down and indicated for her to do the same.
“Of course, I had to come. Who turns down an invitation to see the Chief Justice himself?”
That got a bellowing laughter from him.
Samantha was glad for the easy flow of the conversation, but she knew she was not called here to make small talk. In fact, she had a feeling she knew exactly why she was here.
“How is your father” He asked.
She shifted uncomfortably. “He's doing fine.”
“I take it your mother is doing well too.”
This time, she tensed a bit and decided against asking why exactly he had called her and stop the chitchat, answering instead, “Mother is fine. She'll be here soon.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin, and she noted the change instantly, eager to get this conversation done and over with.
The Chief Judged leaned on the desk, looking very serious. 'I want to ask you again to come work with us.'
She'd seen this coming and kept her smile in place. “Sir, it's kind of you, …”
“This time, we want you to become the foreign minister, …” And continued when she made to speak. “We have already discussed it with the president, and he has agreed…”
Samantha felt like heaving a long sigh of boredom. She knew where this was leading to. With the upcoming elections and every chance that the incumbent president might win again, they wanted someone who would give the least of headache, someone they could control from behind the wall while they achieved their objectives through her. The present foreign minister had recently begun some collaborations which have not met the approval of certain political godfathers. Samantha would not become the puppet they want.
Besides, she was making a difference every day to better the lives of those in the inner cities. She did not need the taint that politics brought.
“I'm truly honored to be considered for such a position, sir.”
“...and you should really take time to think about it before you give me an answer.” He cut her off again.
Samantha clamped down the urge to scream and give him a vivid description of what he should do with his offer.
∞ ∞ ∞
“How do you know Miss Samantha?” The preteen asked curiously.
Feeling put on the spot, Mark raked his brain for an answer without many details. “Well, I work with the Chief Judge, …” He pointed at one of the portraits across the wall, '...and we meet a lot at the courtroom.'
“Oh.” The single syllable came out as disappointment. It was obviously not the answer she'd expected to hear because she went back to her game.
When he worked at the private school before meeting Samantha and everything had changed, Mark had come in contact with a lot of kids, innocent, sassy and rude, introverts, and the list continues, he had no idea where to place Rita yet.
Hoping to capture the child's attention, he said cheerfully, “But she is a great friend.”
She gave him a brief look. This made him to press on. “What game are you playing?”
What, with how she was barely giving him the time of day, he doubted she'd answer him.
Politely, she replied, “Word Cookies.”
He smiled, “I love that game.” For a child to be playing such a game, he suddenly discovered that he admired her courage to tackle a game like that. “What level are you at?”
She had clearly not expected Mark's show of interest. She said almost with a puff of her chest and a grin, “Master Chef, Level Eight.”
Wide-eyed, Mark decided to exaggerate a bit, “Wow! I barely passed the Novice stage.”
∞ ∞ ∞
“Are you quite sure you won't consider this?” The Chief Judge asked Samantha.
She smiled, seeing that she had at least got him to hear her out. He had seized to pressure her into accepting his offer. “I'm very sure, sir. Politics is not something I plan to venture into.”
He sighed. “I guess it's your decision. But if you should change your mind, …”
“I'm certain I won't, sir.”
Samantha knew this was not the end of this discussion. Sooner rather than later, he would bring it up again. He would keep trying until he retired. And that doesn't mean he'd stop. Knowing he had just a few more years in active service, he wanted to secure a place in politics so that he could always have a say. It was all a game to them. If she decided to go into politics, which was unlikely, she would go through the legal process. And that would only be because she wanted to help more people.
She thought of Mark. He had been a good friend and it was about time she put into motion her motivating reason for agreeing to see the Chief Judge on such a short notice.
“Sir,” picking her words with utmost carefulness. “Mark Grinder is your personal assistant?”
This brought a smile to the old man's face. “Yes, he is. The best staff I've ever had.”
Samantha frowned. “But he's a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“With a degree!”
This got his attention, seeing that she wasn't just making small talk. He stared at her for a long time before answering, “I'm aware of that.”
Oblivious of the curious look the Chief Judge gave her, she took a deep breath. “I have a proposition with regards our conversation earlier, sir.”
Calmly, he kept his gaze steady on her and prompted her to continue.
“I would like for him to be promoted to do actual legal work which doesn't undermine his level of education or person.”
The Chief Judge kept his gaze mildly curious. “What exactly do you want?”
Not prepared for the question, she racked her brain and said the first thing that came to mind. “For him to head a unit, sir.”
He didn't reply immediately. He stared at her in a way that felt he was considering her request and deciding how to give her an answer that wouldn't appear derogatory. “That's quite the miracle you're asking, isn't it? He's only been here, what, eight months.”
Objectively, she held herself rigid and stated instead, “You offered me a political position- a high one at that, when I have no political background.”
He regarded her quietly. She schooled her expression to one of mild interest, giving him no chance to read what was actually on her mind.
Finally, he said almost resigned. “I won't promise anything more than that he'll at least have a corner office.”
The sigh of relief Samantha released felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulder. “Thank you, sir.”
∞ ∞ ∞
“My sister is very good at this game.” Rita said
“I'll bet she is. She's very smart.”
Rita's chest puffed proudly. “Yes, she is.”
Mark felt a painful squeeze in his chest. This had to be Samantha's daughter. The resemblance was uncanny. “You look just like your mom.”
She frowned the way only a child could pull off. “Everyone says I look like Miss Samantha and a little like my dad.”
“Your father?”
The pressure in his chest increased. Samantha was once married? Or was it just a love affair that didn't end well? Or was the child completely brainwashed? She kept referring to Samantha as a sibling. These days, it was okay to have a child as a single woman. Why would Samantha go through the trouble of trying to hide it? Or could it be a one-time promiscuous experience several years ago which had resulted in a baby?
Wanting to test further the extent the illusion has been created for the child, he asked, “So, where is your mom now?”
“Who's asking?”
Mark turned abruptly to the woman who looked at him in a very condescending manner, not bothering to disguise the unpleasant expression on her face. The immediately saw Samantha and Rita's facial features on her.
Nervous, Mark stood up, feeling his palms suddenly damp. “Good morning, ma.”
Ignoring him, she turned to Rita, “Where is your sister?”
“She's still in her meeting, Mommy.” Rita answered in a subdued voice.
“That child is going to make me wait on her!” Angrily, she looked about the office until her eyes landed on him. “Who is he?”
Mark had been insulted before. But never like this. And to a child. He'd never been looked down like this and felt angry at this show of disdain on his person.
“He's Miss Samantha's friend.” Rita said, giving him an innocent smile. And he was keeping me company.
She subjected him to another insulting once-over and although her expression didn't change, she asked him simply, “Who are you to my daughter?”
How does he answer that?
“I…”
“Mother.”
The single word came as a much-needed escape. He didn't know he'd held his breath till he heard Samantha's voice.
It was not a pleasant look that mother sent her daughter, Mark noted.