Excerpts from Obialunamma: 2

Juliet brushed a dark strand of curly hair away from her face and straightened her shoulders. She stood in front of the closed door, strengthening her resolve. She’d been told what to expect. Her sweaty hands were awkwardly placed on her navy blue cotton skirt. This was a new case, and she couldn’t help feeling apprehensive after listening to Dr. Bayo.

Her eyes quickly surveyed the room as she opened the door. It was the largest bedroom she had ever seen (not that she’s seen much); it was empty save for a solitary figure standing by the window silently staring into the distance. She walked into the room with all the courage she could muster.

“Good morning, Mr. Kay. I’m your psychologist, Miss Nwachukwu. I believe Dr. Bayo mentioned I was coming.”

…Silence.

Undeterred, Juliet opened the windows and paused momentarily to take in the beauty of the amazing view. Huge waves crashed against the beach. The sky was the bluest of blue, not a cloud in sight. Juliet sighed with appreciation.

“Close the windows and curtains” The harshly whispered words were barely audible. Juliet ignored him.

No one had mentioned her patient was so young, early-thirties at most. His hair was dark and beautifully unruly; his eyes were like those of a caged beast—fierce, and at the same time hopeless and angry. It wasn’t difficult to see that this man had once been vital and proud and relevant. But he was broken and resigned.

That’s why she’s here. The reason she’d been hired.

“It’s a beautiful morning; a beautiful sunrise.”

“I said close the windows and curtain.” There was no doubting the command a second time. He squinted against the light.

“I’ll be bringing in breakfast in just a few minutes, would you like anything in particular.”

Ignoring her, he leaned forward, grabbed the curtains and tugged them close.

Expelling a frustrated sigh, Juliet turned to him, hands on her hips. No, she wouldn’t let this man get under her skin. It would be best for them both if he recognized early on that she wasn’t like the others.

The room was again dim, with only a minimum of soft light. Aware that he wasn’t very locomotive, Juliet opened the curtains again rolling them all the way up

“If you prefer to have them closed, then do it yourself.”

His eyes seemed to spit fire at her, but he said nothing

“I’ll return with your breakfast,” she told him. She closed the door on her way out and paused to inhale a deep breath. Dr. Bayo hadn’t understated the situation; Mr. Kay could appear to be a very difficult case.

The grey-haired woman who showed her in earlier that morning glanced up expectantly when Juliet entered the large, modern kitchen.

“How’d it go?” Clara asked.

“Fine,” Juliet assured the older woman.

As Clara beamed, a network of wrinkles broke out across her old face. “I’ve been working for Mr. Kay for so many years, I miss his old self. Please help him; he's really a good man”.

“He has to help himself. There’s only so much you or me or anyone can do,” Juliet explained, and lifted the breakfast tray from the kitchen table. She didn’t mean to sound rude or discouraging, but it was best to set the other woman straight. She isn’t a miracle worker.

“Mr. Kay’s mother will be here this afternoon. I know she’ll want to talk to you.”

“Let me know when she arrives.” The swinging kitchen door opened with a push of her shoulder. Mr. Kay had wheeled across his room. He glanced up when she entered. His look was hard and unwelcoming. “I’m not hungry.”

“No, I don’t imagine you work up much of an appetite sitting in the chair, do you?” His eyes narrowed menacingly.

“Well, if you’re not hungry, I am.” Juliet took two slices of bread from the tray and poured tea into one of the china mugs. She walked to the other end of the room monopolized by Mr. Kay’s polished Italian baked mahogany table; she flipped the notepad on the table and looked at his poems. “Delicious,” she murmured with closed eyes as she took a bite of the bread. “You’re a creative writer Mr. Kay”

Twice she felt his gaze on her, but she said nothing. When she had finished, she stood and walked to the far window, the view was amazing she enjoyed it for a while then went back to Mr. Kay. “I’ll take the tray back to the kitchen and come back to chat, I can see you're lonely”

He ignored the comment; he poured tea into the second mug. There was a suppressed violence about the way he handled the mug—as if he wanted to hurl it at her. “The hired helps eat in the kitchen, remember that.” She smiled and immediately realized that was a mistake. Without warning, he emptied the contents of the mug on her. An involuntary gasp escaped as the warm liquid ran down her front (her shirt, her chest? Describe). Calmly, she set the tray aside.

Their eyes clashed and held as she struggled to maintain control of her temper. “I’m sure that was an accident, Mr. Kay.”

“And I assure you it wasn’t.” His hard gaze held hers.

“That’s unfortunate,” Juliet returned, and without a backward glance she emptied the content of the teapot on him. “I’ll be back for our chat” she said as she walked out without looking back.

Clara looked up from the sink, her eyes widening as she noted the juice stain.

Juliet laid the tray on the counter and smiled wryly. “I had a small accident,” she explained.

“Sure you did,” Clara muttered with a dry laugh, and lifted the empty plate from the tray. “ Mr. Kay ate his breakfast?” she asked in open astonishment. “First time in six months that he’s cleaned his plate. You are a miracle girl. What did you do?”

Juliet couldn’t put a damper on the woman’s enthusiasm. “I’m afraid that’s a professional secret, but I promise to let you in on it before I leave.”