A father’s pain Episode 1 & 2

A FATHER’S PAIN
written by Michael Dokosi
Episode 1
 
 
i stared fixedly at Prof. Solomon Laryea, my wife’s lawyer. Perhaps, I did not hear him well, I as-sured myself. I felt my lawyer’s hand on my arm obviously trying to restrain me from over reacting.
“Excuse me, sir. What did you just say?” I asked, still confident that I really did not hear the astute lawyer well when he made the fatal comment.
He was a short and stout man with a rich amount of white beard. He must be above 60 years. That he was a brilliant lawyer goes without saying. He was well respected by his peers. It is well known that he had taught some of the judges who were currently on the bench at the Supreme Court.
Prof. Laryea sat back in his chair, caresing his white beard as he stared back at me. Then he leaned forward slowly, with his hands on his oak-paneled desk and then spoke.
“I un-derstand how you feel, Mr. Ofori-Mensah. But what I said is the truth. My client is re-ady for a DNA test at any health facility of your choice to prove her claim” he said.
My wife sat by him with an expressionless face. Even then, her beauty was not in doubt. She had a nose that will make many a beauty contestant envy her. Her big ro-mantic eyes stared at the lawyer as he spoke. She was ignoring me for obvious reason. Seated behind her was her brother, Nana Kweku. He wore an expressionless look on his face.
No one, looking at my wife even as she sat across the table from me, would imagine that she would cheat on me. First of all, she had the innocent look of an angel. If she were to be taking p@rt in a movie about the life of Jesus Christ, Mary, the mother of Jesus, would have been the best role to cast her in. She really looked as innocent as Mary. Her beauty makes screen goddess, Marilyn Monroe, look ordinary.
Secondly, that she cheated on me in spite of all that I had done for her will surprise many.I never starved her S-xually. We made love at least three times a week. And, when it c@m£ to material things, I had made her the envy of her friends. Yet, she went ahead to cheat on me with no other person than my bosom friend, Edwin. I had caught her in the act myself.
“Excuse me sir, I did not get what you said. Can you plea-se repeat yourself once more” I asked, though his as-sertion that my wife was re-ady for a DNA meant I had heard exactly what he said.
“Mr. Ofori-Mensah, my client here, your wife, says Peter and Pamela are not your biological children. As you know, only a mother can tell the real father of her child or children. Your wife says the biological father of the two children is another man he would name at the right time” Prof. Laryea repeated.
The lawyer’s comments were like a hammer hammering at my heart. I began to tremble all over. I could feel my blood boiling inside me and my heart threatening to bur-st out of my che-st.
“How dare you tell me this nons-en-se!?How dare you tell me that Peter and Pamela are not my children!?” I said throu-gh clenched teeth, my anger boiling. Suddenly, I ban-ged my fist with such ferocity on the desk that a flower vase on it tumbled and fell. So did a pen and some books.
My wife got up and backed away in fright. I guess she had never seen me in that mood before. She had never seen me this angry. Her brother stepped protectively in front of her.
“Calm down, Mr. Ofori-Mensah” Prof. Solomon Laryea said, getting up and taking a step back to ensure I will not reach him if I lash out at him. My lawyer held me to restrain me but I knew no st©pping.
“You are a stupid man to call me here to tell me this cra-p! If you try such nons-en-se with me, you’ll regret it. If you try this nons-en-se with me, I’ll kill you! You hear me!” I screamed as I swiftly leaned across the table and gr@bb£d the front of his suit, shaking him violently even before he realized I was going to gr-ab him.
 
 
A FATHER’S PAIN
WRITTEN BY MICHAEL DOKOSI
EPISODE 2
 
I ti-ght£ñed my grip on him.My lawyer gr@bb£d me from behind, trying to yank me away from his learned friend.
But, my grip on Prof. Laryea was so ti-ght that my lawyer’s effort was in vain.
 
 
 
“St©p! You are killing me!” Prof. Laryea managed to scream out. I was so much red h0t with anger that it did not dawn on me I was choking him.
 
 
 
“Paul! St©p it! You’ll kill the man!” I heard my lawyer scream. It was only then that I realized I was on the verge of committing murder. I quic-kly let go off the lawyer who immediately sunk to his knees, clutching at his n£¢k and coughing.
I turned my attention towards to my wife. She was visibly shaken by my anger; she obviously had never seen me in that state of anger in all the twelve years we had been married. I took a step towards her and asked what she meant in claiming my two children, Peter and Pamela, were not my biological children. His brother, Nana Kweku, immediately stepped in front of me, blocking my path to his sister, my wife. Before he knew what was happening, I had taken hold of him by his shi-t and hurled him across the room.
He landed on the ground. I turned my attention to my wife only to realize she was not there. I caught sight of her escaping throu-gh the door. She had kicked off her shoes to ensure she could run as fast as she could.
I immediately dashed to the door. When I got there, she had reached the bo-ttomof the stairs, about to step out of the building. I went down the stairs three at a time, got to the bottom, opened the door and rushed out only to collide with the security man on duty.
 
 
 
“ Hey! What is wrong with you?” he asked, gr-abbing me. I hit his hands away and ran pas-s him before he could st©p me. My wife was alre-ady getting into her car. I recognized immediately it was too late to get her so I dashed to my car parked nearby. By the time I got in, she was far away. Nevertheless, I went after her.
My car surged forward as I stepped on the accelerator, speeding down the road. I was on time to see her about a hundred metres away, turning left at a junction. I stepped ha-rder on the accelerator. The next five minutes saw my wife and me in a car chase, with me in h0t pursuit.
We both jumped traffic lights and sped over zebr@ crossings. I ba-rely avoided knocking down two market women at a zebr@ crossing. I saw them in my rearview mirror, screaming obscenities after me as I sped away.
Far ahead, I saw my wife also miss colliding with another vehicle. Finally, she headed for the central market square. By this time, I was only about forty metres behind her. My thoughts were all filled with the beating I would subject her to when I finally catch up with her.
I had never t©uçhed her. I had never even contemplated or attem-pted beating her because I loved her so much. Further, I distasted people who beat women. However, on this day, I was re-ady to do my worse to her for telling me I was not the biological father of my children.
She brou-ght her car to a screeching halt at the car park in front of the market, got out and flee into the market as I brou-ght my car to a screeching halt beside hers. But I knew having dashed into the market, there was no way I could get her again. Firstly, it would be tantamount to looking for a nee-dle in a hay stack with the kind of crowd that was in the market. Secondly, there was no way the crowd would look on unconcerned while I beat her up. They may end up beating me.
 
…………to be continued…………