The Redeemer - Episode 1

 

A solitary beggar sprawled on the concrete pavement, his haggard frame lost in the folds of the dirty white agbada  he donned, witnessed the man alight from the rickety tricycle and cross University road with no heed to traffic. As he approached, the mendicant raised his enamel begging bowl with frail white-haired arms, and pulpy yellow eyes beseeched for alms. The man slowed, an ambiguous smile played on his lips as he bunched his fist still clutching change and quickened his pace, walking right past him.
There was a confidence in his stride—in the loose relaxed fashion he swaggered with each step as if in time to a beat only he was privy too— that not so much drew, but claimed the world's attention as a right . Something about the upright manner he held himself— the keen eyes regarding the seasons-worn banner fixed between the entrance and exit gate from the sidewalk he walked bespoke a spirit liberated from anxious cares typically marking the visage of those whose inheritance is the earth. 
"University of Lagos..." he idly read as he sauntered into the campus to meet her. 
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She watched without seeing him cross the pebble-paved courtyard in front of the J.F Ade Ajayi auditorium and ascend the flight of concrete stairs before it. 

He paused and let his gaze wander; from the restored plaster female scholar studying statue he stood in front of; to the wide expanse of the Lagos lagoon behind it afar, and turning to his left, finally, on the motionless figure leaning on the balustrade edging the balcony of the old administrative building— opposite the main library. Inexplicably, her gaze was drawn to his and she jerked standing startled. 

She had been so lost in thought, he seemed to have materialized from thin air

All episodes of this story can be found here >> https://www.ebonystory.com/story/the-redeemer

. He raised one hand in greeting and she felt her pulse quicken as he loped towards her. 

Already, he noticed that the concealer she used had been smeared thickly on the top half of her face, thinly on the lower half, and excessively on the bridge of the nose, making it stand out from the rest of her features in a garish hue . As he walked up the wide concrete steps, the insecure smile she fixed on seeing him approach with the harsh contrast of the disproportionately slathered cosmetic gave her aspect a dismal appearance
It conjured the image of a sad clown. 

I'll have to do something about that... 

"You must be Jennifer?"  he said.
The words mellifluous, with the slightest inflection at the end indicating a question. 
"Yes, I am." she replied
He nodded to himself as if the only reason for asking had been to remind her of the fact. 

 It was a chilly Sunday evening, with scarcely a cloud to be seen in the uniformly dull grey sky.
They stood silent; momentarily weighing each other. Her done up face forestalled satisfactory assessment for the present, so he contented himself with taking in the contours of her lineament — its oval shaped aspect, the gentle curve of her jaw, the slightly bulging forehead— the way she held her lithe figure and folded her arms across her modest bosom leaning now on one of the carmine columns supporting the bare ponderous roof above them, her head tilted to one side watching him— the tension evident in her dark eyes. 

She had height enough to be counted tall independent of her sex, but he stood a head taller; light skinned, dark haired and bearded — closely cropped. His features were evenly spaced, though plump— with his round belly testifying the habits of a man not scrimping on food— yet, even with the faded scar extended on the right side of his temple he would have been adjudged a good looking man, but for his eyes... His eyes were a warm liquid brown that lent an otherwordliness to his face at once alarming and beguiling!
It was this that caused her to exert effort to appear calm; to still her palpitating heart as she bore the force of his scrutiny. 

She  wore a yellow sundress and wore brown sandals; hardly appropriate for the weather, her arms were bare, and he could see goosebumps begin rising on them. 

"Here, take my jacket."
He removed the leather jacket he had been wearing, and  gestured for her to have it. 
"Won't you be co—" she started.
He held one finger up interrupting her, and led her gaze to regard his fleshy frame. 
"Why do you think I carry all of this around?" his eyes twinkling with amusement protruding his already round belly. 
And she could not help laughing— an unconstrained ringing laugh that reflected the release she yearned for within. 

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They sat on tree stumps facing each other on opposite sides of a wooden table— dry, save for a cavity in its middle filled with water. The only sounds that could be heard were; the tweeting of birds flitting about their business; the quiet motion of the lagoon with its occasional lap on the brick barrier marking the boundary of the Lagoon Front, and the occasional vroom!  of a vehicle hurtling across the Third Mainland bridge spanning the lagoon.
It was easy to imagine the human population had dwindled to consisting of only the two of them; a nervous girl digging her toes into the moist earth, watching a fiddler crab holding a leaf to disguise itself from a preying bird; and the brown-eyed man across her, twirling a flower from its cut stalk with one hand.
"Do you know what the Bible says about flowers?" he began abruptly. 
Jennifer raised her head to face him. It was the first words he uttered since directing their steps to the Lagoon Front.
"Wealthy wise Solomon in all his glory could not compare to one of this..." he held up the limp flower, pale in the grey light. 
"For a long time I pondered this— what could He mean?  What was the deeper meaning? My soul told me there was, so I patiently searched, and then one day, truth blossomed within me.
 A flower's beauty comes from within, an acceptance for how it is made; and not— mere— appearance... It is a worthy example. " the sound of voice raised what ordinarily would be regarded as a passing observation to the declaration of a universal truth; the tone of conviction with which he delivered this brooked no dissension as his eyes levelly held hers. 

And something stirred within her. It will be the first many lessons Jennifer would hear that she believed spoke to an inner her, and even up to the last moment, their delivery will mark her every time like hot iron on butter.

Her reflection looked right back from his brown eyes, and she knew what had to be done. 

"Do you have a hanky?" she asked, still maintaining eye contact. 
"Yes, I always carry one" was his reply
"Do you mind if I borrow it?" her eyes involuntarily lowered, breaking eye contact
To answer, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a creased white large handkerchief, handing it to her. She held it and did not seem to know what it was she wanted to do with it any longer. 
"I'm afraid I'm going to soil it."
He shrugged with a smile on his lips. 
She dipped it into the pooled water on the table and wringed it thoroughly. She looked again at it and with a deep sigh proceeded to wipe off the make-up on her face. She would dip, then wring and wipe— this continued a while in silence. When she was satisfied with her reflection in the pool surface, she let the hanky rest on the table between them.
'"I'm tired of pretending." she said softly, her gaze directed to the stained hands folded on her laps 
'Sandra...she said you helped her...that maybe you could help me too... " she raised her face naked to him. 
"How? How do you want me to help?' even softer than she had spoken, an intensity had come to his eyes that made them seem alight. 
"Redemption. I want redemption..." was all she said.
It was then the tears started flowing...