Chapter 10: Built to Last!

No deed goes unpunished, be it the good or the bad deeds. There are repercussions to our actions, consequences of every action that we take. In a perfect world, bullying the bully would be seen as a heroic action, something which is commendable. But alas, there is no perfect world, just reality.

Even if there was a perfect world where I would be commended on my noble act, I still would not be able to overcome the pangs of guilt that hit me after the whole macho, kill Mike adrenaline has dissipated. It wasn't like there was a way around curtailing some of Mike's excesses, at least in my mind, he needed a reality check. But it was that I had lost control of myself. I have never lost control before (well, except with another Mike in another world). I have always been levelheaded, one to analyze things and come up with explanations. So it was a sad thing that I had lost control of myself. I had played judge and jury at the same time and it wasn't a good feeling.

But that is just the scratch of the matter. It was the kind of feeling that washed over me when I was pummeling Mike that had me worried. When I was on top of him, unleashing every bit of anger on him, there was only one thing on my mind at that time; kill him. My father once said to me that every person on earth has a dark side, a part of their soul that is ruled by darkness. He said that the dark side and the good side are always at war, vying for control of the man they possess. The strong urge to kill Mike had me rattled. I have always considered myself a good person that puts people's needs ahead of mine. I always strove for the good and happiness of people around me. Now to think that after all this, that I was a bad guy was gut-wrenching. I didn't want to be the bad guy; I wanted to always radiate the goodness that I had once seen in my father.

I was feeling so low that I began to question the wisdom of my actions. Granted, I didn't know when I attacked him, but in my anger-addled brain, I should have exercised more restrain. That was what differentiated the good guys from the bad guys.

In all this, even with the way I felt, I still could not get over the satisfaction that I had beaten the guy, someone that outmatched me. Well, if I was going to be the bad guy, at least I would get some satisfaction from it, I reasoned. Another thing that caused me satisfaction was the knowledge that I had kept my word. My people say that a man is as good as his words. I warned him that whenever he touched anyone that I cared about, that I would show him the stuff I was made off. He had defiled me and has seen the consequence of such defilement.

One thing I was able to glean from all this which I know was for certain was that I was very protective of the ones that I cared about. It started with my mother, but the feeling had spread to the friends I had made in America. I can't even imagine what I would do to anybody that messed with my mother, ... or Beth and Bethany. I would definitely kill anyone that messes with my friend and brother, Jake.

That evening, a police officer came to our house. Mike's parents were pressing assault charges on me.

"You mean to tell me that this frail looking boy beat up someone as big as Mike?" the officer asked when I was introduced to him.

I just shrugged. There was no point in putting my feet in my mouth.

"So how did you do it, were you high?" he further asked.

I looked at him in confusion. I didn't know what being high meant. It was Beth that came to the rescue.

"Officer, I don't know what you are trying to insinuate but saying that EJ here was high is a little bit too preposterous, don't you think?"

The officer who I never got his name and don't think I would be getting his name looked chagrined. "Sorry ma'am, I just had to make sure, standard procedure," he said apologetically. Beth could do that to you.

"Officer, I know that you are here regarding the fight between Mike and me," I began, knowing that I had to somehow take charge of the situation. " ... It all began when I transferred here. Mike wanted to bully me but I didn't let him, so he focused on my friend, Jake. I told him, not long ago that if he ever touched any of my friend; that I would make him regret it. As you might suspect he didn't take my advice." I looked at the officer to gauge his reaction. He had a writing pad with him taking down what I said, I guess. "Today, he waylaid me on my way from the restroom. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. He beat me up; he was actually the person that punched me." I opened my belly to show him the tender spot where Mike had hit me. "You can ask anybody around, he hit me first. The thing is that I wasn't even going to fight back, because I didn't want to be involved in a fight my first week in school." With each statement, my English was getting more difficult to coordinate, so I spoke slowly.

"That was until he beat up my friend, Jake." I looked up at him, taking a deep breathe because I wanted what I said next to be clear to him. "Officer, I might not know how to defend myself, I might even choose to not defend myself because I am not a violent person. But when someone threatens my family, my friends and the people that I love, I would spare nothing to make sure that the person gets his just rewards. Mike beat my friend up while looking at me, taunting me. I will never allow that to happen," I said while looking at him. He was now looking at me, focusing all his attention on me. "I may be a frail looking person, I might not be high on anything, but I will defend the people that I care about. I don't want to cause trouble but that doesn't mean that I will run away from one," I finally wound down.

"Wow that was a great speech, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you are a politician. You do know that what you just told me contradicts everything Mike said."

"Ask the students, there were people around when he was punching me, there were people around when I asked him not to touch my friend, there were people who witnessed everything," I said to him.

"Alright, I think that would be all, but I advise that you stay away from trouble, young man. That you can beat someone up doesn't mean you should go spoiling for a fight, you understand me?" he admonished.

"I have said what I said, officer. I am not a violent person, but anybody that hurts the people I care about will get his just rewards. I have heard you, though and I am not going to be involved in any fight if I can help it."

Nodding his head, he said, "That's all I ask for. I may require to interrogate you again, but I think I am done for now. Stay away from trouble," he advised while getting up and making for the door.

"Thank you officer for taking the time to hear my son out," mom said as the officer was outside at the porch of our home. Beth also echoed her gratitude with the way the officer handled the whole thing.

"I am sorry mom that I got you into all this trouble," I apologized when we were inside the house.

Mom came over and hugged me. "It's okay honey, I knew from what you told me that it wasn't your fault. But please Eeej, don't get in a fight again, I wouldn't want you hurt or anything." I promised by hugging her the more.

After that, Beth came and hugged me too. "I love the way you manipulated that officer."

I looked at her and said, "I didn't manipulate anybody. I just told him what happened."

"Manipulate is a strong word, I guess I wanted to say that I love the way you took charge, making the officer listen to you instead of you listening to him. I loved that."

"Well, I have a great teacher," I said grinning at her.

"And who might that be, if I may ask?" she said cheekily.

"Why, it is you of course," I said in mock seriousness.

I could tell that she was happy at my answer. "Good, I don't want another person reaping the benefit of my labor," she said laughingly. "Seriously, it is nice to be this playful with you, Eeej. Don't ever lose this you."

"I like this me too. And I promise not to lose it," I promised her.

Dinner that day was filled with rehashing the fight and the officer's visit. Somehow, they found something funny to laugh about the fight and the visit by the police officer. I didn't begrudge them though, if I could put smiles on the faces of people that I loved, I would gladly be the object of ridicule.

The weekend was just different. There was no school, no seeing Jake and no walking down the hallway rushing for one class or another. I realized that even though most of my experiences had not been that great, I still missed school. I missed the rides with the Fergusons where we would all laugh and tease each other, I missed walking into the hallway holding hands with Bethany, I missed walking into school to find Jake waiting for me there with that his fire-branding smile. I missed double-teaming the classes that I have with Jake, I missed our lunch time when we would talk about different things irrespective of how embarrassing they are. I sighed, I missed school.

But the weekend had its own perks. There was no need to wake up early in preparation for school, there was no need to eat cereals because mom made delicious breakfasts that were just mouth-watering, I spent my day with Bethany lazing about, watching one show or another or just generally being a kid. Yes, the weekend had its perks.

On Sunday, we didn't go to church. Seeing as how we were still strangers in America, we didn't know which church to attend. We in my family are Anglicans dating back to my grand father. I have never attended any other church in my life so we were at lost at which church to attend. And of course the Fergusons didn't attend any church. I think that, more than anything was what made us not really that serious about finding a denomination.

I called Jake in the afternoon of that same Sunday. If I think I missed school, Jake missed school more than I did. And of course we talked about the Sleepover. Even over the phone, the excitement in his voice was just clearly evident. I wasn't different either. We talked so much that my mom had to pry the phone from me, literarily.

That Sunday was a precedent of how most of my Sundays would be. The Fergusons, mom and I had a family time at the Ferguson's residence. We watched shows after shows laughing at the humor of some of the things that was said in those shows. And then we watched some movies, chick flicks would be more like it although I didn't know the meaning of the term at that time. I enjoyed the movies, chick flick or not, it was great watching movies about finding love and romance. It made the ladies cry but it also made them huggy. I liked that especially when Beth was hugged me to her bosom, and I must say that it was a comfortable bosom.

The movies led to reminiscing about how the moms met their respective husbands. It was eye-opening learning how my father and mother met. Of course that led to them tearing up some more, especially Beth. I think the fact that her husband left her for another woman was something that she found particularly hard. I guess any other woman would still find it hard being deserted by her husband for another woman. I didn't know psychology then, but even my small brain told me that it must have affected her self-confidence, although at that time, I didn't know it by that name.

It hurt me to see her hurting. I might not know it at that time, but I guess I cared more about her than I would ever admit to myself. So when I saw her crying, telling us how happy she and her husband were in their marriage, or so she thought, my heart reached out for her. I wanted to take away the pains, the sorrows and that hurting feeling of loss that she felt. I wanted to make her realize that it wasn't her fault but that of her husband who couldn't see that amazing person that she was. I could have said that to her, maybe it might have helped her, but I didn't. Instead, I wrapped her up with my small arms trying to tell her with my gesture that I was there for her. It was while holding her that an idea stuck me. It was something I had seen my father do countless times even though I was young to understand what the gesture meant. I also knew that it made my mother happy whenever dad did that so I told myself that I would do that.

That night, while every other person was sleeping, I got up from my sleep and began putting my plan into action. I sat on the desk table where I normally did my assignment and began,

Beautiful,

It hurt me so much that you are still hurting, still counting your loss. I do not claim to know what you are passing through neither do I claim to understand the position you are currently in, having to lose your husband to someone else, someone you believe is more beautiful and better than you.

When my father died, I thought that my world has crumbled; I thought that my world has come apart. Maybe it did come apart, maybe it did crumble. I was so lost in my sense of loss that I forgot the most important thing. Things come and go in life. It is not the loss of the things we have lost but in the lessons that life teach us through those losses. I forgot that there was no need mourning after my father when I should concentrate on the things that I have, my mother. I will always mourn my father, I will always miss him, but I will appreciate more the things I have now in life.

And that includes you. When we knew nobody in a strange country, when nobody would even talk to us, you were there for us, guiding us in the early days of our stay in this big strange country. You may think that anyone could have done it, but the fact that you made that effort even while you are obviously still hurting from your own loss is a testament of the person you are; a loving, caring person. When my mother was at loss of what to do, you became her friend. When I didn't give you the chance, you persisted in becoming my friend. I don't know about you but that shows me how great you are.

It hurt me that you are still hurt by your husband leaving. Like I said, I do not claim to know what you are going through. Yet I must tell you that it was never your fault that your husband left. There was nothing you could have done differently to make him stay because it was all about him. He was so focused on himself that he failed to realize what he had; a treasure, a ruby so precious that it is hard to come by.

You are an amazing person and any man that failed to realize that is just plain stupid. I might still be a boy but I have been around people who have dampened my faith in human beings. You are the one that restored that faith. You made me see that there are still good, honest, caring and loving people in the world and I am ever grateful for that, for all that you have done. I might still be young but if I had the chance (and my mom agrees) I would marry you without looking back. I would cherish you all the days of my life.

So it was never about you, nor was it about something you did. The other woman was never prettier or better than you because no one is your equal. No one can compare to the amazingly awesome person that you are. No one is more beautiful. That is what I wanted to say. And I hope that this letter will lift your spirit. Thank you once again, Beautiful, for everything.

E.J

When I started writing that letter, I was doing it to reassure my friend, but as I wrote those words, I found out that everything I said was the truth. Beth was the most amazing person that I have ever met. And I counted myself lucky for that. Having finished writing the letter, I neatly folded it and placed it in one of my books. Tomorrow will see the completion of my plan.

The next day went like every other school day. I ate cereals, and bade my mother farewell. She was starting work that day. I rode to school with the Fergusons, I was welcomed to school by my great friend, Jake with a smile that would have lit up the world. We had a blast in class and a great time at lunch. We were joined by Bethany's friends, Stacey, Amanda and Jenny at lunch although they didn't say much. I talked more about my people and culture to interested Bethany and Jake though I could see that Stacey, Amanda and Jenny were both interested in what I was saying. Then we went back to classes.

Finally, detention time came. I went to the class where the detention note I got said I should be. I went in and introduced myself to this beautiful classical looking woman that had a certain aura about her.

"So you are the lad that beat up his fellow student?" the beautiful lady asked me.

I didn't know how to reply that. "I don't know about beating someone up but I am in detention for fighting," I replied her.

"You are trying to play smart with me, lad?" she asked in a condescending manner.

I sighed. I hated it when people take sides without enough information. "I don't know what you heard ma, but I can certainly tell you that you don't have the whole story on what actually transpired. I will not go into details but believe me, there is every justification for what I did. Now, that does not take away the guilt I feel about the whole situation but I can't apologize for defending my friend. And I also hope that before you judge me, you will at least make such judgment based on true facts and not some rumors," I said in a carefully worded statement so as not to lose control of my English.

I think the fact that I was bold enough to speak up instead of cowering before her regality was what astounded her and some other students that were serving detention with me. She fixed her gaze at me, trying to see if I would flinch, I didn't. I have seen people stare bloody murder at me that her gaze was like a welcomed relief. She then dropped her eyes and continued whatever it was that she was doing. There was no task to do in this detention so I brought out my assignments and started tackling them. At least I could study while being detained.

That was my first encounter with Miss Annabelle Stanfield. I didn't know it at that time but she was the literature teacher for higher grades. Word had it that she was an English shrew, though at that time I didn't know all this, except that I was seeing the manifestation of the shrewd part of her that first day at detention. The way she talked down at me in a condescending manner. I didn't know it but we would later develop some kind of friendship together. She studied anthropology as a minor so when she got wind that I was freshly from Africa; she called a truce to the condescending attitude. I helped her with her research on some African culture especially that of the eastern part of Nigeria where I came from. In the course of our working together, we developed some sort of respect for one another. But that is getting ahead of myself.

I was surprised to see Jake and his mom waiting when my detention time for the day was over. In my excitement, I forgot to make plans for transportation. I guess others did not forget. I was surprised but happy because I got to ride with my friends.

On the front seat was a sweaty Melissa. I guess that cheer practice was over too. She looked beautiful with her hair packed in a ponytail and some tresses of her hair matted to the sweat on her face. God, she was so beautiful! That was the only time she rode with us sweaty.

They asked me how my detention went. I told them all about it on our way home. It was Melissa that told me Miss Stanfield's name and the subject she taught from my description of her. I told Catherine to swing by a flower shop that I saw when she drove us around town the day I told Jake about my parents. Was that last week Wednesday? How time flies.

There was the questioning about what I was going to do in a flower shop but there was no way I was going to tell them what I wanted to do.

"How may I help you?" this beautiful petite lady was asking me when I was looking at the different flowers that adorned the shop.

"I am looking for a flower, for a friend," I added when the lady raised her eyebrows at me in a silent question.

"And what type of flower are you looking for?" she asked in a sweet voice, smiling.

"I want something that tells someone that I appreciate all she has done for me and my mom, something to say that I love her and care for her, most importantly, something to reassure her that she is the most amazing person I have ever met, a rose," I said. The idea of sending a rose to Beth came as I was describing what I wanted to say with a flower. I knew that it felt right.

"Wow, that's very sweet of you, I am sure the person would appreciate the gesture," she still said in her sweet voice while smiling.

"I hope so. Anyway, can you deliver the flower and this letter to her house," I asked while fishing out the letter from my note.

"That wouldn't be a problem, you just leave the address and the note then."

She ringed up the bill and I paid for it. It was the change I had saved from my lunch money and I was happy to part with it.

When I came back to the car, without any flower, the Parkers were dying to know what I went into the flower shop to do. I couldn't tell them though; there was no point in doing that.

I bade the Parkers farewell when we got to my house. I didn't know how late it was but mom was back from work before I got home.

"Hey mom, you are back from work. How was the office, work?" I asked her anxious to know how her day at the office had gone.

"It was great. Everyone was so nice that it made the nervous feeling I had going to work disappear," she replied.

"You were nervous?" I asked incredulously not believing that I had missed that one little detail.

"Yes," she barked out a laugh. " ... I was really nervous. I didn't know what will happen, how they will think of someone from another country coming to take their job. I didn't know if it will be like what happened in Nigeria all over again. I was nervous."

I hugged her to me. "Sorry I didn't know you were nervous?" I apologized to her.

"Don't sweat it, you weren't supposed to know."

"So do you like your work?" I asked her.

"Yes, I really do. All those things we learnt in the university, it so great the way they find application to my everyday work. I am happy that I at least kept abreast in my field," she replied in an excited voice. That was all I needed from her. "Forget about me. How was school today, how was detention?" she asked.

"Well, school was great today, at least until I went for detention..." I began telling her what happened in school that day. Of course I didn't tell her of my trip to the flower shop, although I did tell her of the Parkers waiting for me. She admitted to having arranged it with Catherine. I was happy that I had a thoughtful mom who cares about me the way she did. That precipitated another hug.

Finally, I had to go upstairs to my room to freshen up. We were hosting the Fergusons in our house for dinner that day. I had to be ready before the Fergusons came.

I was still in my room resting when a knock came on my door.

"Come in," I said not knowing who it was.

The words were still on my lips when Beth breezed into my room. I turned just in time for her to hug me. I hugged her back, gently rocking her as I noticed her sniffing. She was crying. I didn't know what to say neither did I know what was making her cry. So in order to not embarrass myself, I shut up, held her to me and gently rocked her.

We must have hugged for a long time because my legs were becoming numb when she released me, wiping her face with the back of her hand. I commandeered her so that we sat on the edge of my bed, still at loss on what to say to her.

"Beth," I called out tentatively, not knowing if I should even be saying anything. "Are you alright; did something happen at work, today?"

She looked at me as if I had said some stupid thing then bust out sobbing again. I guess I said something stupid because for the life of me, I couldn't imagine causing this great woman pains. Yet, I had to know what it was I did to make her cry like this, what happened to make her this distraught.

"Beth, you have to tell me something here, please. Talk to me because I am really confused on why you are crying," I implored her in a breaking voice. Just the thought that something was hurting her was enough to break whatever shield I had put up.

That seemed to get her out of her funk because she stopped sobbing and yet again wiped her face with the back of her hand. I waited her out, knowing that whatever I said had the potential of triggering her off again.

And she looked at me. Even though her face and what little make up she applied were clearly ruined, making her face appear somehow distorted, she looked so beautiful at that moment that I wanted to cry out, to claim her. Her face was so angelic, so beautiful yet so vulnerable that I was transfixed. She had never looked that open to me. And the beauty of that openness was what had me transfixed.

I didn't know how it happened neither do I claim to have any conscious thought at that time. There I was, transfixed by the sheer beauty of her vulnerability, her openness and her character. There I was looking into her eyes and I didn't even know when it happened. I leaned down and kissed her.

As soon as my lips found hers, it was like something broke in me, within me; something primal yet caring, something aggressive, yet tender. It was like I was floating in the sky. And indeed I was floating in the sky. That was my very first kiss and it was magical.

Our lips were still meshed together. My eyes were still closed not caring about my environment. Then I relaxed my lips. She moaned, she must have thought that I was stopping that kiss. I was only starting. I took her lower lips between mine and that was when the fireworks exploded. I have known passion, I thought I knew passion, yet nothing in my life prepared me for the cacophony of feeling that exploded within me, inside of me. The feelings that were coursing through me were so foreign, so alien yet they were beautiful, strong trying to take over my whole faculty. It was powerful, beautiful, strong, yet so soft, tender and oh so loving.

Slowly, I nibbled on her lips, alternately taking her lower and upper lips in between mine. I have never done something like this before, but somehow I could tell what she wanted for me to do, I knew what she loved. And then our lips meshed again, and it was like the fog, the cloud was lifting from my brain; like I was coming down from a high. I should have been frustrated with passion and lust, but somehow I was satisfied, a certain peace washing over me. It was amazing!

Slowly I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was still reveling in the intensity of the kiss. Finally, she opened her eyes and smiled at me. The fluttering feeling in my stomach started yet again.

"Wow, that was great," she said breathlessly.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to betray me. Though I was oddly satisfied, I was dimly aware that there was still passion laced in my throat, making it impossible to speak.

"I have never been kissed like this before. Wow!" she exclaimed, still somewhat breathless. "If I knew you kissed like this, I would have kissed you long ago."

There was nothing I could say to that so I just kept quiet. She was still trying to get her bearing when I remember that something had her provoked. "Why were you crying?" I asked her after clearing my emotion-laden throat.

She produced a paper that I didn't even know she had and gave it to me. I looked at the paper and it was the same letter I wrote to her. I looked up at her in confusion, not knowing why a letter I meant to reassure her would make her cry. Forgive my ignorance but I was still a novice when it came to women issues.

She must have realized the confusion in my face because she explained, "Someone very caring sent that to me with a beautiful rose." She was still breathless. This wasn't like the Beth I knew.

"And that is bad how?" I asked obviously not knowing why such a gesture should make her cry.

"God, sometimes I forget that you are still so young," she said while chuckling. "I was shedding tears of joy, that you see those qualities in me. Sometimes, I don't think I believe that I have those qualities," she finished with tears rolling down her face.

"Now, listen to me. You see what I wrote here?" I asked while raising the letter at her. " ... I meant everything I wrote her. You are the most amazing person I know and even though your husband leaving says otherwise, you are still the most beautiful woman in the world, or you wouldn't have been my crush." I said the last part with a boyish grin that I could attempt.

"God! You say the nicest things. You really mean that, that I am beautiful and amazing?" she asked.

"Every word of it. I just wish that you could see what I see in you, I just wish that you could look at yourself through my eyes and see the way I see you. You are the best, Elizabeth Ferguson," I said in the most sincere voice that I could muster.

She stood up, ran her hand through her hair, made some touches to the suit and the slacks that she wore and looked at me. "I am the most amazing, gorgeous and beautiful woman. And no one can take that away from me," she said in the most confident voice she could muster.