Mr. Nobody Special Collection | Ahanamakye, ɔkyena – Part 1

Author’s note

This is the first part of another short story linked to one of the longer stories on this blog, “Mister Nobody”. It belongs to the same storyline. Therefore, if you haven’t read that story first, you might hardly understand the hows and whys of what is going on here. You can find the list of the chapters by clicking here. 

I hope you will enjoy this short interlude that takes place right at the end of Chapter 38 and right after the previous short story, “To the mini-moon and back”.

I am aware many of the readers might not be that interested in this storyline any longer, but I am especially fond of it and there were still a few possibilities I wanted to explore. 

Thanks for reading and especially to those who take their time to comment. It means a lot to any author.

Ahanamakye, ɔkyena – Part 1

Ivory Coast, August 2018

His vision was blurred. He tried so hard, at the very best he could, to focus on the music, on the rhythmic beat of the drums and the bass line. But it was impossible. His ears weren’t giving him the right messages. The sounds came confused, and he felt dizzy. His legs were weak. His whole body was weak. Everything hurt.

Standing on the stage, the microphone in his hand, the earpiece monitor loosened around his neck and he thought someone was going to scold him. Someone was going to ask him why he wasn’t wearing the device. It had happened before, after all. They told him that he had to wear it. It was important. But he didn’t feel at ease. It made noises too sharp in his brain and once again, he could not focus.

At one point he thought he was getting cross-eyed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. His pupils felt like pinball balls. God, he was so tired. Exhausted. He needed to sleep for days. He needed to rest. He also felt his body was too thin and fragile to perform. He had always feared the progression of time, but for a while he had been able to beat it. To always stay a step ahead of it. Turning fifty could have been so much better than this, he was sure of that. But not in these conditions. Not when you couldn’t sleep. Not when the only thing faintly resembling a moment of rest was nothing but a black tar pit where you sank, body and soul. Night after night, after night.

He had to get a grip and be in control again, but it was just so confusing. He felt alone and scared and hopeless. He had no idea what exactly was going on, but knew that whatever it was, it was not good. Once again, just like in the past, the fear of dying resurfaced. And he just couldn’t allow that. He could not die. He had his kids to take care of. He had so many things to do. He needed time. He deserved that time. He deserved his future. He had sweated blood to earn it.

“Michael, start again. It’s not working.”

Who was it?

It didn’t matter. He just nodded, mechanically, and went back to his spot on stage. Thank goodness it was marked, otherwise he wouldn’t have known where to go.

God, this was so fucked up…

And then he could no longer breathe. His lungs constricted, screamed their silent scream, and his throat tightened. Every other sound disappeared. What was left, was the rhythmical thumping of his blood, desperately trying to run through his veins. His heart racing and he saw white specks in front of his suddenly useless eyes. Eyes that he didn’t recognize as his anymore, whenever he would look at himself in the mirror. Who was that man? That thin, fragile, pale man who felt like he could not escape his fate? It was not supposed to go that way. This was not the future he had planned for himself, with strong determination, and discipline, and constant work and dedication. Was it this, what he was going to get, after sacrificing his whole life for his art? Dying, like this? Like a rabid dog? Like an unwanted stray animal in a kill shelter?

“Why don’t you close your eyes, MJ. Why don’t you rest a little.”

He hated that voice. Hated his accent. Hated the way he pronounced each and every word. He had always sounded so weird. So condescending. So fake.

He wanted to tell him that he did not want to sleep. At least, not like this. He needed to rest, but it couldn’t be done this way. This was not resting. This was dying a little, day after day. And as he still struggled to breathe, and couldn’t, he wondered if that last day had finally come. If he was walking the green mile without having committed any crime.

The abyss was going to swallow him whole and he felt weightless now. He felt like floating, spiraling downward. He had no control over his own body. He was lost. He was dying. He was dead.

“Michael… Michael…”

From the darkness, from the land of the dead where he felt he had been sent without reprieve, he heard the voice and this time it was a woman. The relief was immediate. He knew that voice and he used the last bit of strength left to swim to the surface. It wasn’t easy. The obscurity too thick, too sticky, clinging to his limbs, dragging him down, silently telling him that he needed to stay there where he was. He needed to stay dead and gone.

“Mike… Please baby, wake up!”

There was fear, in that voice. That voice coming from another world. A world that had once been made of hope and expectations. A world that used to include an endless string of tomorrows.

He tried again, harder this time. He fought with all his might to reemerge from the darkness. Still struggling to breathe, his muscles aching, his body barely responding, but he tried.

And he succeeded.

Michael’s eyes opened with a start, staring into space. He had no idea where he was.

She was getting seriously worried, because he just wouldn’t wake up. At one point, his body had gone rigid and she had noticed that he was holding his breath. It had scared the living shit out of her and she had frantically started to scan the room, looking for her smartphone. Where the fuck was it? She needed help. Calling him, shaking him wasn’t working. Whatever it was that was ailing him, it was terrible and he was clearly not well.

Just as she was about to launch herself out of bed and grab her purse, where she hoped her phone was, he finally opened his eyes and took in a semi-choked breath. His neck was tense, the veins popping out. His forehead was glistening with sweat, dampening his short, curly hair. He was so pale, black circles around his eyes.

Lisa tried hard not to be taken hostage by a panic attack. Yes, he did have nightmares from time to time, but she had never seen anything like this since his return. This was way over the top, even for his standards. It didn’t matter how well he had recovered, and how much he was able, now, just to rest every night naturally. The bad dreams, sometimes, still assaulted him with unimaginable violence and she was powerless fighting them.

“Mike… baby…”

She noticed her voice was quivering and her stomach felt tied in a knot. She was about to cry. So she sniffled and tried to compose herself. He didn’t need this. He needed her to be strong for him.

His eyes, almost black, turned to her and stayed still. They were glassy and remote. He was awake, but not entirely there yet. Lisa wondered if he could be reached.

She just caressed his hair, his forehead, then leaned over, kissing it again and again. It felt hot, as if he were running a fever.

“I’m all sweaty.”

His voice was hoarse, croaky. She closed her eyes, pulling back a little, and smiled a sad smile at his observation. A smile of pain and relief.

“Yes. Yes, you are, baby.”

“I’m sweaty. I feel sticky. You shouldn’t be kissing me… It’s yucky.”

OK. Still not completely there. It didn’t matter. Lisa inhaled, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“No, it’s not. It’s fine. I like you when you’re sweaty…” She rubbed his chest. Even his white V-neck t-shirt was soaked through. “I always like you. And love you. Even when you make no sense…”

“Just like now?” Finally, he sounded more in control. His voice still husky, he rubbed his eyes with his closed fists, like a little boy trying to chase away sleep.

Lisa chuckled, a bit bitterly.

“Yes, baby. Just like now.”

When she felt his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in and close to his body, she wasn’t even surprised. She just snuggled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Strong, a bit quicker than usual, but steady. She swallowed back the tears. God… this was so unfair. Nothing bad should have ever happened to a man like Michael. He hadn’t deserved anything that had rained down on him throughout the years, and he was still paying for it. Despite his new life. Despite their new life. Married – again. With a 4-month-old baby boy sleeping in their other suite, taken care of by two highly-skilled nannies.

Lisa and Michael usually took care of Kellan on their own, without much external need. But given the circumstances, compromises had to be reached. They were not at home, in Scotland, where they had been living permanently since he had come back to her cloaked in his new identity. Ethan Murphy, the art dealer. A man so different from the one he was to the world. And yet exactly the same man she had once been married to – only changed by time and events.

They were in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, at the Sofitel Abidjan Hotel Ivoire. They had been there for a couple of weeks now, taking care of their new charity project. The one they had set up together.

A desire that Michael had expressed a few months earlier, as they drove back home from their mini-honeymoon – a very private, intimate weekend they had spent in Ullapool, on the Highlands. A moment for them and them alone. The newly-remarried couple that, despite their maturity on paper, still acted like a sex-crazed, love-sick duo. It was the same flavor of love they had experienced the first time around, when they were younger and way, way more inexperienced when it came to navigating their complex, complicated, intense relationship.

It was different, now. Lisa had spent seven years without Michael, thinking that he was dead. And dying a bit inside herself, day after day. Life without him just couldn’t be perfect. She could carry on, take care of her kids, even be happy at times, but something was always missing. Someone. It was him. Nothing lit up her sky the way Michael did. And she had always known that.

Him coming back to her, two years earlier, had been a miracle. He had saved her. And she hoped she had saved him too, in the process, at least a little bit. Whatever deities were above, they had relinquished their hold on their golden boy and he had come back to her. Of course, he hadn’t come back from the afterlife or anything. He had been in hiding. But despite any rationale, Lisa knew the rest of her life wouldn’t be enough to get completely used to it.

Waking up every morning by his side was electrifying in its beauty and perfection. Now… if only she could stop his nightmares. If only she could stop that pain.

It took several minutes for him to move again. His breathing had finally slowed down, and his hand came up, resting on her head. He stroked her hair gently, slowly. His movements were hypnotic.

“You awake?”

“Yes.” She rubbed his chest.

“This one was real bad, Lise…”

“I know… You were trashing around like crazy… And I couldn’t wake you up.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” She lifted her head and stared at him. “You got nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault. If anything…”

He held her gaze, shaking his head. “No, don’t you even go there. It’s not your fault either. You couldn’t know. You didn’t.”

And through his words, she understood what his nightmare had been about. His last tour. The one that had never happened. The strings enveloping him so tightly, the threats so dangerous that he had been forced to run and hide. And start a new life, shedding his old skin, his own persona – the one he had fought so hard to build. Losing so much in the process. Just to survive.

Well, at least they were even. She couldn’t get rid of his nightmares as much as he couldn’t get rid of her regrets. Her gaze dropped. His voice brought it back to his face.

“I get confused… for a bit. After those dreams…” He paused. “Even now, after I woke up… I couldn’t remember where we were at first.”

She just studied his face again, quietly. Giving him time and space to express his feelings the way he felt they needed to be revealed. Oh, she had learned the hard way.

“Sometimes I can’t even remember who I am anymore… It’s all blurred in my mind.”

“Do you, now?”

His eyebrows distended, his face looking flat and emotionless.

“I guess…”

Instinctively, she leaned in and kissed him, her hand on the side of his face. His skin was no longer feverish, thank God.

“Wait. Let me show you.”

Backing off, she sat up on the bed and opened the drawer of her nightstand. There was a small, round mirror there. She took it out and then snuggled against his chest once again. She knew the dim light coming from the bathroom was more than enough, for him, to see what he needed to see.

“Look…”

A long silence followed, as Michael stared at his own reflection in the mirror. Gosh, he had changed so much. Physically and otherwise.

“What do you see?” Lisa’s voice caressed his soul and he grinned, ever so slightly.

“An old dude with a beard.”

She snorted. “You’re blind, Mike.”

“I’m not…” He pinched her side playfully and she squirmed, but didn’t leave the comfort of his body. She stayed close to him. Just where he wanted her. “Not completely, at least.”

“Your glasses are in the foyer. That’s why you’re getting confused, mister. I have no idea what you’re looking at, but certainly it’s not my husband…”

His smile got wider now. And peace started to wash over him. Finally. Her husband.

“Yeah? And what do you see, Lise?”

She sighed, and resumed the gentle caresses on his chest.

“I see the same gorgeous man I fell in love with so many years ago… and yeah, Alicia would call you a silver fox.”

He chuckled.

“She would call me what?”

Right. He didn’t know. She had never told him. She laughed, lowly.

“A silver fox. Don’t you know what it means?”

“No idea… That I’m an animal?”

He was either acting very cute or very silly on purpose. Either way, he was adorable. Lisa leaned up on her elbow and kissed him, slowly. Her tongue meeting his for a moment, the contact warm and intoxicating in its absolute perfection.

“Yeah, well, that too. But no, that’s not what it means…” She pulled back and tilted her head to a side, pushing a strand of long hair behind her ear. “It means that you’re a handsome, silver-haired man.”

“And old dude…”

“Not old! Mature…” She winked at him and he giggled. It finally felt as if he was coming out of his shell, abandoning the eclipse that had sucked him in as he slept. “A mature, classy, sexy gentleman usually sought out by younger women… That’s what a silver fox is. That’s what you are now.”

She snuggled against him once again and their eyes met in the mirror. “And you are so beautiful, Mike… so beautiful, it’s not even funny. And I’m so in love with you that sometimes I feel my heart is gonna explode.”

His gaze softened and she thought she detected the shimmering of tears. How soft could her proud man be, at times. And how she adored him like that. So open, so vulnerable, so secure and in tune with his feelings.

“OK… Enough of this…” He gently took the mirror from her hand and put it on his nightstand. His reflection disappearing suddenly left a small hole inside her soul. She could feel his conflicting emotions. They had always been there. That had never changed and Michael he was, all in all, the same man.

He kissed the top of her head and sat up with a grunt. Probably his back was bothering him again.

“I’m gonna take a shower. I need to freshen up.”

Scratching his head, he slowly walked to the bathroom and Lisa, still in bed, just watched him. She watched his still perfect body move in the faint light of the room, and the way he took off his t-shirt and threw it on a chair carelessly. He was still such a messy man. His broad back and shoulders were the last thing she saw before he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar.

He was all jumbled up. And Lisa expressing her love so openly had been the last push. He needed to regroup. That was why he had left, albeit only momentarily. Not because he didn’t reciprocate her love – but because he loved her so much that sometimes words just wouldn’t come.

They had built quite a pretty life for themselves. A regular, normal, serene life. Happy, truly happy. But neither of them was the regular, common, serene type. The undercurrents were still there and sometimes they gave them cramps. The intensity and solemnity of it all, they were now able to contrast them with the lightness and simplicity of their everyday life. And that was where he wanted to go back to, but he needed to wash the remnants of his nightmare off his body and spirit, first.

As he waited for the water to get warm in the shower, Michael stood before the sink and in front of the mirror, once again. And this time he truly watched.

He didn’t know about that silver fox thing – he had never heard of it before – but he certainly was aware that he looked much better now than he did nine years earlier. Yes, he had gotten older, but time had been a gentleman. And Michael, too, had worked so hard to regain complete health – and he had succeeded.

Absent-mindedly, his eyes still focused on his reflection, he scratched his cheek. He had been so thin, back then. His now way heavier, thicker appearance was still startling, at times. Especially when he got caught in those dreams that brought him back to the past, to one of the most stressful times of his life. The pounds he had gained were a perfect mask for his well-recognizable silhouette but also a comfortable decoy. They testified to his emotional relaxation and relief just as much as his love for physical activities. Without glasses, his face looked basically almost the same – except for the full-grown, well-trimmed beard and the pretty short, curly hair. Grey on his temples. But at the very least his eyes no longer looked exhausted, vacant, unfocused.

Taking a deep breath, snapping himself out of his daydreaming, Michael stepped into the shower and under the hot jet. He lowered his head and rested both his hands on the tiled wall. Even with his eyes closed, he felt Lisa’s presence even before she opened the glass doors and joined him in the small, steam-filled ecosystem.

She pressed her naked body against his back and wrapped her arms around his torso, her hands resting on his chest. Michael opened his eyes, glancing down. How he loved her small hands on him, following the rising and falling rhythm of his breathing. The shimmering reflections of her wedding ring. Her tanned skin over his paler one. Lisa rubbed his pectorals and kissed his back, in between his shoulder blades. He grinned and they stayed that way, letting the hot water trickle down their bodies, connected in their comforting embrace.

“I love you, girl.”

Another kiss on his back. Her lips lingering a little longer, this time.

“I know.”

Two words sending pure relief through him. She knew. She had told him, several times, since his return. She had also told him through her songs, when she thought she’d have to wait to meet him again in the afterlife.

“Do you have them too, sometimes?”

“Nightmares, you mean?”

He grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing it again and again.

“Yeah… nightmares.”

“Uh-uh, I do…”

“What are they about?”

She held him tighter. Her little body wanting so much to become one with his. He felt her smile, a small, sad smile.

“You really don’t know?”

Michael didn’t say anything. Yeah, he thought he knew.

“The worst ones are still about you being gone. Sometimes they change, but the pattern always stays the same…” Her hands moved, rubbing his chest. He stood perfectly quiet and immobile, waiting for her to continue.

“The last one I got, you were there with me… we were younger, though…” She interlaced her fingers over his chest. Her cheek was still resting against his back. “We were having dinner, just you and I, when suddenly I started hearing really loud, really weird noises… I couldn’t tell where they came from but I knew they were a signal that something real awful was gonna happen… So, anyway… I looked at you, to make sure you could hear them too… ‘cause I knew we needed to leave… and you just looked at me and were clueless and then… you know, and then your eyes turned white all of a sudden and you opened your mouth to scream but nothing came out and you collapsed… face down on the table… and you were… you were…”

Her voice trailed off.

Michael swallowed, feeling petrified. Once again he covered her hands with his own, holding onto them for dear life.

He heard her sniffle.

“So… anyway… another one I have every now and then, I am in a car with you and we’re driving up a mountain. And it’s foggy and cold and rainy all around. I can’t see anything, I try looking out of the window and it’s all grey. And we keep driving up and up and nothing really changes… And you keep driving and staring ahead even when I try to talk to you… it’s like you can’t hear me… you can’t see me at all… and I don’t know where we’re going… Well, in fact we’re going nowhere. And then I wake up…” Her cheek stroked his back. “So, you know… That’s why sometimes I’m cranky in the morning…”

Her suddenly lighter tone didn’t match the trembling of her body.

Slowly, Michael turned around and faced her. His face was calm and serious, even when he noticed her eyes were remote and glassy. He tilted her chin up until their eyes met.

“I am here.”

“I know…” She tried very hard to give him a comforting smile. It didn’t really work out.

Michael framed her face with both hands, delicately.

“I love our life. I couldn’t really function without you. I had to come back. And this life, Lise… this life right here… you and I… and our beautiful baby boy, and our kids, our family… It’s so worth living. I love how everything is no longer about money, and contracts, and deadlines, and backstabbing, and shit like that…”

“Shit like that?” Her lopsided smirk made him smile.

“Yeah.”

“And if those creepy nightmares are what we have to go through every now and then… and if we still need to work on our old traumas… you know what… it’s fine. It’s fucking fine. We will. I’m OK with it. As long as we’re together. We can face everything. Just like back then, when we were too stupid to realize it… Together we can face everything.”

Lisa’s face distended, her features relaxed and her full-blown smile made her look as if all those years hadn’t passed at all. So young again. So beautiful. She had always been that way, in his eyes.

She replicated his gesture, holding his face with both hands.

“Happy birthday, my love…”

For the first time, the idea of turning sixty didn’t sound so bad. Especially because he felt like at least twenty years had dropped from his shoulders. The weight of the world no longer hindering him. The clogging crowds of the past events lighter. The fear of dying more and more distant, replaced by the happiness of living.

Finally.

Sountrack