Bloodline X

Umelo Ojinmah

Description

Story telling was always part of me growing up. My mother was particularly good at telling sweet stories. Many of the seeds to the stories that I have been harvesting, especially those set in the past, came from her. Even now, I can hear her sweet voice in my head. To Nwamuka, I dedicate these stories.

Sujets

• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 27 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 3
• EAN13: 9781669849223
• Langue: English

Extrait

BLOODLINE X


AND OTHER STORIES









Umelo Ojinmah



Copyright © 2022 by Umelo Ojinmah.
Library of Congress Control Number:
2022917997
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-4924-7
Softcover
978-1-6698-4923-0
eBook
978-1-6698-4922-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.




Rev. date: 09/26/2022




Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
846152



ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Once again I thank family and friends who have been faithful and supportive of my work. I however, wish to specifically thank Prof Thelma Y Obah, a friend and mentor, for her meticulous editing of all my scribblings and making them readable. You are loved and appreciated.
Engr Felix Eze is “enyi ka nwanne.”
He is one of the factors for my recent productivity.
I thank Pastor Ndukwe Chinaka, my dear friend, for his fidelity and love.
To a wonderful friend, Dr Andy Brockenbrough, who has been a pillar of support to me and my family, I am deeply grateful.
To the members of my family: Dr John Nduweze Ojinmah, Charles Chukwuma Ojinmah, Engr Jasper and Dr Ihuoma Ofoma, and others not mentioned in this limited space, God bless you all.
To my crew: Obum Chinyere Umelo, Arnold Umelo and Praise Ebube Ojinmah, I love you all.
To God, who made it possible, thank you Lord.
Umelo Ojinmah
Seattle, WA



CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
1 Flower Kissed By The Sun
2 Return Of The Lost Son
3 Betrothed
4 Bloodline X
5 Gen Y–Z: Social Demands And Keeping House



FLOWER KISSED BY THE SUN



1
OBED
The slow speed of the train suited Karen. The dilemma of what to tell her parents was overwhelming.
“How could I have been so stupid?” she mused. “It was not the pregnancy, I am sure it was not that,” she told herself for the umpteenth time.
“But why did I wait so long before telling him? Was it entrapment? Was I that desperate?” The questions tumbled after each other in quick succession, begging for answers.
She had always prided herself on her levelheadedness. Now, try as much as she could, she could not rationalize her actions.
The service year had flown past at a dizzying pace. As customer service manager, her days were full. Sometimes, she had to tick off the calendar to be sure what day it was. Oftentimes, the twenty-four hours felt like twelve hours. What, with the demands of the job of making sure that customers were satisfied, and that the sales and maintenance people packaged the correct computers to the appropriate customer, she had no spare moments. She used to bring sandwich to work for her lunch, but most times, she would take them home because she could not break off for lunch breaks, so she stopped.
After a few complaints from customers, the managing director had also added the responsibility of ensuring that each computer was installed with the appropriate software and programs before delivery, especially for their high-end customers to Karen. She could not believe the number of responsibilities placed on her. The managing director was treating her like a full staff, not a temporary NYSC member, and was paying her as such. She couldn’t really complain because some people would kill to be in her shoes.
Her evenings were equally active. Obed made sure of that. His job as actuary manager of one of the leading insurance companies entailed a heavy social life. Most days of the week, he was either entertaining or invited out to functions, and he insisted that Karen play host or accompany him.
Memories flooded as she reminisced on their relationship. At thirty-two, Obed was five years older than she was. They had attended the same university, but he was in his final year when she came in as a fresher. There, paths did not cross until two years after he had graduated. She had gone to a friend’s birthday party organized in the lush PAMOl rubber estate. Invitation to the party had been deliberately limited because Pat, Sandra’s boyfriend, had told her that he was not throwing an all-comers party. He knew from experience that during weekends, boys would drive slowly around the suburbs with their windows down listening for sounds of loud music, which was a tell-tale sign of party. They would then gate-crash for free food and drinks. So he asked Sandra to invite only girls and a very few of her close male friends. To ensure that only such invited persons attended, strict instructions were given to the security personnel at the first gate not to allow anyone without an invitation into the estate unless they were residents, and they were few. At the second gate, the invitations were crosschecked against a list for male invitees.
PAMOl was a government-owned rubber plantation eight miles outside Calabar, the state capital. Within the plantation, an exclusive estate was built for the topmost managers with twenty-four-hour security, light, and water. On normal days, visitors were only admitted into the estate on appointments.
Mfon, Pat’s childhood friend, had recently been appointed the managing director of the plantation. The position came with a massive seven-bedroom, extravagantly furnished, house, and two cars among other perks. The house had a tennis court at the back and a swimming pool on the left side. The lush green grass that covers the front and right side of the house were well maintained. When Pat was discussing the logistics for the party with Mfon, he said that only a foolhardy person would attempt to gate-crash the party, so Pat should provide enough foods and drinks to last all night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Sandra had been effervescent all week. She had literally dragged Karen along to Aba to purchase the clothes and matching accessories that she wanted to wear for her birthday party. The trip had been uneventful but tiring, as they had to move from one stall to another in the massive Ariara market. She had used the opportunity to get a pair of shoes for herself and a few little things that were either not easily available or expensive in Calabar. The girls had then spent most of Friday doing manicure, pedicure, and their hair.
Saturday, Pat and his friends drove from Eket straight to the campus in a convoy of five cars. They arrived at 6:00 p.m. as agreed. Within minutes, their cars were filled with girls eager to party, and they drove to the venue. It was not until they got to the second gate that they began to hear the music. By the time they got to the house, the whole place was vibrating. DJ XBone had been rated the best DJ in the state for four years in a row. He worked in the radio house by day and was a disc jockey by night. He was always the first person to get his hands on top of the chart tracks and new good artists. People were already dancing and having fun, but the real business started at 9:00 p.m., when the chief celebrant was ushered in. DJ XBone had selected the best dancing tunes in vogue and strung them into a thirty-minute nonstop play. From that point, everybody was dancing and drinking. On the balcony, assorted foods were on display. An announcement had been made that anybody that was hungry should go to the balcony and get as much food as they wanted. Food and drinks were unlimited, they said.
At about 11:00 p.m., Obed and a couple of his friends strolled into the party. He exchanged pleasantries with Pat and Mfon and then went to sit on a stool by the improvised bar, surveying the scene. Everyone wanted to get a dance with Sandra, the celebrant, and she graciously obliged. When she saw Obed, she left the man she was dancing with and walked over to him.
“Cousin, come and meet my friends,” and without waiting for a response dragged Obed to where her close friends were clustered. “Ladies, meet my cousin Obed.” Obed dutifully shook hands with each girl and turned to go back, but Sandra would not allow him.
“No, no, no, cousin, this is a party, my party, and you have to dance with us. Come, I will dance with you first,” and she began to dance, forcing Obed to join her. As soon as another track began, she handed Obed over to another girl, and they kept dancing with Obed in turns.
The atmosphere was convivial, and everyone was having fun. Those that came with their girlfriends did not mind people dancing with them. Pat had watched, amused as Sandra danced with everybody, trying to inject life and fun in the party, and it worked.
Up till that moment, Obed was humoring his niece; but when he held Karen to dance, something changed. As Karen stood up and locked eyes with him, bolts of electricity shot through his entire body. Time stood still. They danced three straight tracks, oblivious of time and others in the room. Only Pat and a few other people came to the party with their girlfriends; most of the men were meeting the ladies for the first time. So peopl