INDULGENCE 3

CLICK HERE TO READ PREVIOUS PART

Ene’s dry spell didn’t last. Exactly six weeks in, five weeks after they moved in together his alarm bells went off.

Ene suddenly developed a thing for mouth rinse. On closer observation, Tonye realized that it was a bad sign. Empty bottles of Listerine fluoride rinse littered the bin. He didn’t need to ask. He took a swig from the almost odorless content of the mouth rinse bottle, Vodka. The roller coaster that had stood still whirled back to life. Even her parents sympathized with him. He held on strong though. He loved Ene, through thick or thin.

Most nights Tonye fell in bed bone tired. Why was he coping with this? They were not even married. She hurtled through life like she had a demon on her heels. 
On those torturous nights when he had to nurse her, his heart broke. And when hangover set in he felt her pain. At those times she’d swear off alcohol, a vow she never kept. She chewed whole peppers, sometimes she insisted on sleeping in the bath tub. On the bath tub nights Tonye’s next working day was hell.

Every day dawned with Ene in stupored slumber. Tonye had the permanent job of hunting and fishing her out of joints (he made her make out a list of her hang outs). Throw in the Lagos traffic and you can only imagine the nightmare that it was.

She’d made friends with a decrepit drunk, Akpan.

Akpan was an alcoholic, a street drunk. He was the type, who got fished out of gutters by good Samaritans, because his family (if he had one) had given up on him. Their friendship was conducted over the phone and in beer parlors. Akpan stuck to Ene like a leech. Free booze.

Tonye had met him one night when he’d gone to get Ene back home. A sweaty smelly middle aged man, whose eyes reflected disillusion. Tonye didn’t get the friendship but Ene liked Akpan well enough. Her reaction about sex with Akpan, gave Tonye much relief.

Tonye adjusted himself on the couch and looked at his wristwatch. A quarter to seven on a Saturday. An hour before he was due to hit the pubs in search of his girl friend. He looked at the door and wished it’d open and Ene would walk in. Her walk simply drove Tonye crazy. Sexy long legged, boy, girl swagger.

He eyed the bottle of indulgence on the mantel again. “Was indulgence a blessing or a curse?’ He shook his head for he knew the answer all too clearly.

He recalled the day he first encountered indulgence. Ene had rushed into the house with an unusually wide smile, and a clear bottle of orangey liquid. “At last, my end product” she beamed as she handed him the bottle. “Alcohol?” He asked wearily.

“It’s not what you think” she responded quickly as she rushed to the kitchen and rushed back with a glass. She poured some into the glass and passed it under his nose. A sweet tropical aroma tinged strongly with alcohol assailed his nostrils. He gingerly took a sip. The molten fieriness and earthiness blended with the taste of some exotic fruit slid down his throat. Fantastic.

He cocked am eye brow at her “New discovery?” “You could say so” she responded smugly “I made it”

She them told him of her five month research and experiment, brought on by a desire to beat the lure of absinthe with something as potent but more earthy and African in taste. Why? Only God knows.

Ene had always imagined a liqueur that was ethnic yet refined in taste and quality;  true bacchanalian.

She’d followed the preparatory steps of fruit liqueurs and had been disappointed at the first result. The mango flavour wasn’t as full bodied and ethnic as she’d wanted. Several trials more with different species of mango and she’d chanced upon the perfect specie. Then she hit upon the bright idea of adding palmwine to the mix and eureka.  She’d sent a sample to a friend in London and they’d struck a deal with a small distillery in Burgundy in the South of France, to patent it. “It’ll cost a bunch but with proper distribution and publicity, my business partners think it’ll be a hit”.

Tonye stared at her in amazement,“How does one cope with a woman like this?” He didn’t know how to feel about her news.

On one hand he it cut deep that she’d never mentioned any of it to him prior to now.

On the other hand he was proud of her and impressed by her unnerving ingenuity. “Did such great talents always have some devastating Achilles heel?...........Indulgence?”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken out the last word until he'd felt her grip his arm, her eyes wide in excitement.
“Indulgence….. Fantastic, that’s what I’ll call it” Ene gushed. She halted as she caught the look on his face. She sobered up and looked seriously at him. “What? Aren't you happy for me?” 
His handsome face creased reflectively. He exhaled heavily, and then looked into her eyes. “Will there ever be an us?”

“Of course, Tonye what’s that?” She suddenly whooped, swigged heavily from the bottle and blinked rapidly as the alcohol sank in. “Come on T, we should be celebrating………. I’m going to test and taste it at every degree of coolness; frozen, with crushed ice, flamed, salted, sugared, every way possible. I’ll perfect recipes and attach a recipe booklet to the bottle…….” He smiled, her enthusiasm was infectious. He believed in Ene. She could pull off whatever she set her mind to.

Indulgence had been a hit. It had taken both the Nigerian and the international market by storm. She’d even received special recognition from the Bacchanalia; the first female, the fourth recipient, in its eighty years of existence.

Deep inside, where he hid the hurts and joys he never shared, resentment lurked. Ene came and turned his world around and then she left. 
He jerks up in realization. He’d totally lost track of time. He looked at his wristwatch and the glow dial read eleven pm. He slumps back on the sofa.

He had to try to catch some sleep. Tomorrow would be a harrowing day.

He fully anticipated it.

Four days after the launch of indulgence, four days after Ene had turned twenty-five. Akpan called Ene. He’d seen clips of the launch in a society magazine and had called to congratulate her. They’d met up for a celebratory drink at one of Akpan’s usual joints; a stinky, pokey beer parlor in Obalende. The beer was always chilled and they served a mean catfish.

Driving afterwards to drop off Akpan, heavily inebriated, she ran into an oncoming trailer and died instantly. Akpan survived.

Tears slip down his face as he looks at the mantel, his eyes resting on the picture. Tomorrow is the funeral. His eyes shift and rest on indulgence.

“Definitely a curse.” 

THE END

                                                                                                                 Rio