I Do Not Come to You by Chance - By Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani Page 0,135

Odinkemmelu had said, except in more conventional grammar.

‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ Kingsley said while the man was still expressing himself. ‘This time, we’ll let it pass. But, young man, next time, please be aware that our tickets expire after five days. Odinkemmelu, give him another ticket.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ the young man exhaled.

Gradually, the spectators turned back to their computer screens. This must have been an anticlimax to what had started out as a great show.

Without moving, Kingsley watched while Odinkemmelu issued the fresh ticket. Augustina made her way eagerly towards her son. She reached him as the man in plaited hair strutted away victoriously with the slice of paper that had his new log-on code.

‘Mummy!’ Kingsley exclaimed with excitement.

‘Ma Kingsley, welcome, Ma,’ Odinkemmelu mumbled with downcast gaze.

Augustina embraced her son. From the corners of her eyes, she was pleased to note that many customers were glued to this less brutish show.

‘Kings, I hope I’m not disturbing your work,’ she said, smiling brightly.

‘Of course not! Come, let me show you round.’

He took her by the hand. Abruptly, he paused in his stride and turned, resuming his CEO composure.

‘I don’t want to see this again,’ Kingsley reprimanded Odinkemmelu quietly, wagging his finger at him. This kind of scene must be avoided.’

‘Chairman, I am told him before about our ticket. It’s not a lie. I am told him.’

Odinkemmelu was still a rough diamond. A short while ago, he had decided that he had exceeded the acceptable age of being a dependent relative. He wanted to earn an income and help his parents and siblings in the village. His dream was to open a provision store, and he had found a kiosk to let on the same street as Augustina’s tailoring shop. Odinkemmelu approached Kingsley for the capital at about the same time that Kingsley was facing a challenge of his own.

The graduate of economics he had employed as manager of the Kings Cafe’s main branch, Aba, had been caught doctoring the books. Over a period of weeks, the man had silently siphoned off several thousands of naira. He vanished into a puff of smoke the moment his crookedness was discovered. Kingsley was outraged. Augustina then advised her son.

‘That’s why it’s better to employ relatives,’ she had said. ‘If they steal or misbehave, you can always trace them to their homes. No matter how efficient strangers are, they can do whatever they want to do without fear of being traced.’

Her son had paid heed to her advice. Odinkemmelu was offered the job. He moved from Umuahia to Kingsley’s house in Aba and took up his white collar job with zeal. Now, in his yellow shirt, red trousers, and green tie, Odinkemmelu trembled, apparently fearful that he had bungled so soon.

‘I’m not saying you did anything wrong,’ Kingsley said. ‘But one does not scratch open his skin simply because of how badly he feels an itch. Learn not to overreact. The cost of one ticket is not worth all the disturbance that man was causing. I could hear him all the way from my office.’

‘Chairman, am very sorry, sir,’ Odinkemmelu said.

Kingsley took Augustina on a tour of all four floors. He showed her the different kinds of equipment for sale and explained their functions. She shuddered at the heavy price tags. Her main enjoyment derived from the staff gazing upon her in awe. The CEO’s mother.

Kingsley then led her into his private office. Tears sprang to Augustina’s eyes. If only Paulinus had lived to see the fruits of his labour in their opara.

The office was large and uncluttered, with a refrigerator in a corner and a wide, mahogany cabinet displaying several exotic vases and several awards extolling her son’s financial contributions to different organisations, and a smiling portrait of Thelma in a gold frame. Not for the first time, Augustina wondered how her son’s sweetheart could bear the burden of those enormous breasts on such a petite figure.

But Augustina soon lost interest in the awards and the photograph. Her eyes and heart had settled on the large mahogany shelf filled with books. And not just any books. Augustina recognised many of her husband’s priceless textbooks and smiled. Really, there was no better legacy a father could bestow on his son than knowledge as vast as eternity.

‘Your office is lovely,’ she said, a broad grin on her face. ‘Anyway, you’ve always had good taste. Just like your father.’

Augustina noticed that her son’s expression did not acknowledge the compliment. It was probably his way of