The bell tinkles.
Crankson moves to the centre quickly.
Chris moves slowly.
Referee Odamten holds down a stiff hand, and then slashes it sideways in the air.
The bell tinkles again.
“GojuFists, fight, trust!”
The two men stare at each other.
“I’m gonna retire you forever, old man,” Crankson says with mean eyes.
“You shouldn’t have touched my son,” Chris hisses venomously. “Nobody touches my son.”
Crankson is soon a motion of fast blinding movements, spinning for the savage turning kick, but his foot slashes empty air because Chris is no longer there. It takes only a minute for Crankson to realize that he has met a master and that finally, he has met that one man who is quicker, faster and more skillful than he is.
No matter what he tries – punch, kick, butt, spin, smash – Chris is always a step ahead, moving, blocking, locking. He is like air, and so agile and quick that Crankson only sees him in blurs.
“My God! Chris is even better than before!” Ken Kedem whispers with awe. “Have you ever seen anything like that? It is as if Crankson is fighting a ghost!”
Effe smiles a little easier this time. She has never liked Chris fighting and had made him stop, but watching him, her heart glows, because it is her man who is exhibiting that magic inside that ring, and drawing all that admiration from the crowd.
Rupert leans forward, barely able to breathe.
“Damn! Didn’t know he’s this marvellous,” he whispers with admiration.
Afful shakes his head and leans back.
“Do you still think Micky is gonna kill your man for you, Stevo?” he asks indignantly.
“Fuck off, Jon!” Steve says angrily. “But you’re right, it’s time to fight for the love of my life, and I’m going to do it.”
Steve gets up suddenly, and without a further look at the ring, he walks out of the VIP Lounge.
Everyone watches in awe as Chris exhibits incredible reflexes and skill that they have not seen in a GojuFist fight for a long time. At long last, panting and beginning to taste the horrible tang of fear and desperation, Crankson stands in a fighting stance and looks at Chris with something akin to absolute panic.
The bell tinkles.
Chris speaks slowly.
“Just wanted to show you how a true Grandmaster does it. If you give up now and do not respond to the second round bell, you’ll be disgraced, but you will be whole. If you come for the second round, I’m gonna hurt you bad.”
He turns and walks to his corner, leaving a trembling Crankson staring after him with a level of confusion.
Crankson goes to his corner.
He sees the fear in the eyes of Nana Bosomtwum.
“What did the bastard say?” Bosomtwum asks softly.
“Says I can choose not to answer the bell for the second round,” Crankson replies warily. “If I do he will hurt me.”
“What you wanna do, Micky?” Bosomtwum asks uncertainly and with fear, and Crankson laughs shakily.
“Well, I’ve never been a coward. I can’t be one now. He’s good, damn good, but I’m going in there. Maybe, in his complacency, he’ll give me an opening, and I’ll kill him.”
The second round begins.
Chris gets up and moves to the centre of the ring.
Crankson meets him.
“Alright, asshole, let’s see what you’ve got,” he says with a sneer.
What happens next is a fine exhibition of martial arts artistry at its finest, perfected by the mysterious Chris Bawa. Crankson does not see Chris moving, but he feels the crushing blows…his head, his legs, his ribs, his arms.
Crankson grunts with pain as Chris twists and turns, attacking with such relentless brute force that Crankson is reduced to a punching bag, and blood streams from his face and nostrils. He feels the punishing blows and moans with a mixture of pain and horror.
Chris spins, sinking a fist in his guts, making Crankson wheeze, and then Chris is in the air, swinging a haymaker that almost tears Mike’s head off. Then Chris gracefully turns in the air with a head-crushing side-kick that hurls Crankson into the ropes.
Crankson manages to stand straight, but he is wobbling, and there is blood in his mouth and around his nostrils.
He stares at Chris with his horror complete.
“Yoush shmucking fuckishy brabrashbush shucotip pusharapash!” he mumbles in his acute agony and panic.
His lips are so swollen and smashed that his words are not coherent.
There is no mercy on Chris’ face.
“Nobody hits my son. Nobody!”
And then his hands move like pistons, the blows raining down on Mike with terrible precision… fast, hard, damaging, unstoppable!
“Oh, God, Chris is going to kill him!” Effe screams with fear. “No, Chris-Love! Stop, Baby, stoooop!”
Up in the VIP, Lounge Eyram jumps to her feet in alarm.
“He’s killing him! My God, he’s killing him!” she screams.
The crowd is suddenly silenced at such brute punishment.
It is no longer a fight. It is torture, a macabre thrashing as primitive as it is beastly. Nana Bosomtwum looks around for a white towel to throw into the ring and concedes defeat, but his frantic eyes fail to notice any.
A spinning blow from Chris sends Crankson crashing against the corner, his legs gone, his hands down, unable to defend himself. Chris goes into his fatality stance, the one he uses to deliver knockouts.
He extends his right hand, and crouches a bit low on his left leg, gathering all his brute force into his left fist for a straight chin-crushing explosive punch that no opponent had ever survived. Referee Odamten tries to stop the fight because it is evident Crankson is gone, and cannot defend himself, but the referee is behind Chris, and he slips on the canvas and falls.
Nana Bosomtwum throws in a white towel finally, but it lands behind Chris, and he does not see it in the midst of the fury consuming him.
Effe is screaming, Wailer is screaming… the crowd is silenced as Chris begins to zone in with that deadly left fist toward Crankson’s sagging chin.
And then Junior is through the ropes, and suddenly he is standing in front of his father, holding his father’s right thigh, tears streaming down his face.
“DADDY! NO, DADDY, NOOO! THIS IS THE DREAM I SAW!” the boy wails in anguish. “I COULDN’T SEE THE PEOPLE WELL, BUT I SAW THIS PICTURE, DADDY. YOU’LL KILL HIM IF YOU HIT HIM, DADDY!”
Chris freezes then.
He sees his son through the mist of his murderous fury, and slowly he begins to shake, and that horrible mist of fury slowly leaves his eyes. Junior now wraps his arms around his father’s waist and weeps silently. Referee Odamten has gained his feet, and has picked up the white towel, and he moves forward and strikes downward with a right fist…
Submission!
Chris has won!
He is once again the Grandmaster of GojuFist.
Crankson tries to move, and he crashes to the canvas hard and remains still.
Chris picks up his son and hugs him, and Junior hugs him back. Odamten motions to the doctors to attend to Crankson as he walks up to Junior and pats him on his back.
“Trust, young man, you’re as brave as your father! Thank you, thank you very much, trust. That’s a great kid you got there, Mr. Bawa, trust.”
Junior giggles through his tears.
“What’s with him, Daddy, trust? Trust, trust, trust! What’s wrong with him, trust?”
Father and son giggle.
“I don’t know, trust!”
“Trust, he’s trustworthy, trust!” Junior says as his terror slowly leaves him.
This time they begin to laugh.
Wailer Vroom enters the ring, shouting and punching the air with extreme happiness. There is deafening screaming all around. Crankson is carried out on a stretcher, still unconscious. The sound is deafening as Chris’ name reverberates around the arena.
He is a hero once more.
The beast is gone, for now, for a moment.
This moment, as he hugs his brave son, and the image is beamed across the continent, Chris Bawa knows only happiness, and he prays deep down, that it will stay that way!
Chris and Junior walk out hand in hand after Effe.
Junior had spent the weekend with Chris, and he is going back to school. Effe is going to Takoradi for a UN Seminar. As usual, Junior is holding one of Chris’ big middle finger tightly, and Chris is holding Junior’s school bag. Effe will drop him off at school before going to pick a private flight to Takoradi.
Junior gives his father a hug, and then he hops into the back of the car. Effe stands in front of Chris and takes his hands in hers. She smiles lovingly at him, but in the depths of her lovely eyes lurks a little uneasiness.
“I’m going to miss you, Angelface,” Chris says tenderly.
“I’ll miss you more, Chris-Love,” Effe says But it is only for two days. Seriously you should consider coming to live at my place. This is getting too hard to live with. I need you with me all the time.
“I want everything to be perfect, Princess,” Chris says with a smile. “When you come back, I want us to renew our Vows, with new rings, and start our lives on a fresh page.”
Her lovely face lights up, and she puts her arms around his neck and draws his head down. He holds her and kisses her gently.
“This time, Chris-Love, let it be for eternity,” Effe whispers with hints of tears in her eyes. “I can’t stand any more storms, my love. Please promise me everything will be alright.”
Chris takes her face in both hands and kisses her deeply. For a moment, he is tempted to bring out the exquisite rings he had purchased just two days previously. They are in a super-cool glass box in his pocket. He almost brings them out and puts one on her finger.
But he knows he has to wait. The moment has to be just right for them. He has it all planned out. He will wait for her to come back, and then there is going to be a very romantic outing for them, and then he is going to make new vows to her.
“I’ll be here waiting for you, my darling. Just hurry back, because every second that I’m not with you my heart dies a little.”
She kisses him desperately, passionately, happily.
Junior opens the back door of the car and sticks his head out.
“I’m going to be really, really, really late for school if you really, really, really don’t stop that face-licking thing in front of your little innocent son!” he says indignantly.
His parents laugh, and Chris opens the door for Effe. She sits in, winds down the window, and sticks her face out for a final kiss. Finally, the car moves away, and Chris waves to the love of his life and his son.
Effe fumbles her phone out of her bag to call Eyram who had left quite early for the hospital to attend to an emergency. Effe has just scrolled to Eyram’s number when her phone suddenly dims and shuts down.
Her battery has run out. She puts the phone back in her bag and tosses the bag into the back seat, and the phone rolls out of her bag and lands under the front passenger seat.
As Chris walks back towards the Boys’ Quarters he shudders suddenly and looks up into the sky. It is not a bright sky; it is bleary and scowling, bleeding like a wound as if it is going to rain.
“Come on, Fate, don’t come and jinx me again,” he mutters softly.
As he climbs the stairs, he does not notice that Steve has stepped out from behind the shadow of a Royal Palm where he has been hiding and observing their show of love with the darkest of expressions on his face.
As Steve walks towards the house, he grips the yellow hospital folder he is holding tightly. He climbs the stairs and knocks on the door loudly, and waits.
A moment later the door opens, and Chris stands in the doorway looking at him.
Steve smiles, and it is not a very good smile.
“Chris Bawa. My own very good friend. You know, every time I see you I regret bitterly bringing you home with me that vacation to meet my family, and Effe,” Steve says coldly.
Chris leans against the door jamb and crosses his arms across his chest.
He keeps his fury in check as he looks at Steve.
“How long are you going to keep all that hate bottled up inside you, Steve? If you had not brought me to her, Effe and I would’ve met somehow,” Chris says calmly. “I know you don’t really love her. I know you’ve been cheating on her. So why don’t you just accept it and move on, Steve? Anyway, would you like to come inside? Can I offer you a drink?”
“Go fuck yourself, Chris, I’d rather drink with a snake!”
Chris’ jaw works and for a moment his teeth grates, but he takes a deep shuddering breath and steps back into the room.
“Suit yourself then, Steve.”
Steve holds up the yellow folder he is holding quickly.
“Actually, I came to see if you and I can work out some sort of agreement regarding the custody of my son. Since you and Effe are obviously coming back together I think it’ll be prudent if I take custody of my son?”
Chris steps out onto the veranda and regards Steve with pitying eyes.
“What the hell are you up to now, Steve?”
“Junior is not your son, you infertile son-of-a-bitch!” Steve says spitefully. “He’s my son, and I want him back.”
Chris chuckles and shakes his head, and this time there is real pity in his eyes.
“Yeah, right, Steve.”
He turns to go back into the room.
Steve speaks desperately.
“Effe didn’t tell you, right? And neither did Eyram?” Steve asks scornfully. “Well, actually Junior is for Eyram and me. Eyram provided an egg, I provided a sperm, it was fertilized in a lab, and carefully put into Effe’s womb.”
Chris freezes. He is holding the door handle, and suddenly all the veins stand out on his arms and neck. For a moment, he cannot breathe as he fights for control. He tells himself that Steve is lying. He tells himself that he has to exercise control, he has to remain calm, but he cannot. A pain, the size of the Atlantic Ocean, rips through his heart, and dazedly he turns, and the look of murder in his eyes causes Steve to step back quickly from him.
“You bastard! Better get out of here before I break every damn bone in your body! You damn liar!” Chris says coldly.
“Me? A liar? Well, let me tell you a story, Romeo, and open your eyes to a secret that has been kept from you all this while, by a woman you think you’re in love with.”
“Shut the heck up, Steve!” Chris grates out, sending the warning signs that Steve sees, and begins to be wary of.
“Why? Truth hurts? Of course, the truth hurts, so I won’t go into details. Everything is set out in this yellow medical folder. Effe’s gynaec was Dr. Gabriel Anaman, right?” Steve persists.
Chris is visibly shaking now. His eyes are half-closed, and suddenly Steve knows that if he doesn’t get it out quickly and leave, Chris will kill him in an instant if his pain continues.
“Stop this, Steve, it’s not funny. Whatever sick game you’re playing, I’m not buying it, and I’m not believing you,” Chris says bitterly, but there’s a tinge of uncertainty in his voice that Steve hears, and pounces on.
“Suit yourself, Romeo. Whatever happens, I’m taking you to court, to claim custody of my son,” Steve says with a soft giggle. “Effe couldn’t conceive when you two got married. After a year she was still childless. She was scared because she thought she was losing you. She said she saw signs that you were cheating –”
“I never cheated on Effe!” Chris hisses dangerously.
“Well, Effe thought otherwise,” Steve says with a shrug. “She used to weep all the time. Dr. Anaman told her to try artificial insemination because it seems the fetuses she had with you couldn’t attach to the walls of her womb. You were doing drugs, Chris, and Dr. Anaman thought that maybe the drugs had affected your sperm, giving Effe bad fetuses. Secondly, she was not producing enough eggs, due to some hormonal imbalances. Effe was scared to tell you what the doctor said. She thought you would leave her because you wanted a son so much. So, when Dr. Anaman suggested In Vitro Fertilization, we agreed to help, that is Eyram and me.”
“No, no, no, no! Oh, sweet Lord no! You’re lying, by Jove! I don’t believe it!” Chris says, agonized.
“I don’t give two hoots whether you believe it or not! Go and ask Eyram,” Steve says harshly. “Doctor Anaman too can confirm it, but he’s in Australia now. You can easily get him. We promised Effe never to tell you. Doctor Anaman extracted eggs from Eyram, and retrieved sperm samples from me. They were manually combined in a laboratory dish, and then he transferred the embryo to Effe’s uterus.”
Chris cannot take it anymore. He is covered with sweat, and he backhands Steve across the face. Steve falls and scrambles away quickly from the enraged, bitter man.
He can taste blood on his cut lip.
Chris is agonized, and he is dying, and he is in severe pain.
“SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP, STEVE! JUNIOR LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE ME! HE’S MY SON!” he screams.
“Use your head, Chris! Of course, he looks like you. Isn’t there an Akan saying that when you continue ‘watering’ a pregnant woman, her baby will look like you after birth?” Steve presses on his advantage although he is now terrified, aware of the fact that he is walking a fatal line that could cost him his life in the blink of an eye. “That’s what we did! For you and Effe! Eyram’s eggs, my sperms! Ask Eyram, if you doubt me. Take Doctor Anaman’s old folder. I paid good money to have that folder stolen from the hospital’s archives. Read it! Call Effe, now and ask her! Go on! Don’t beat me, Chris! I’m telling you a secret your Princess has kept from you for eight years!”
Chris is trembling with agony. He takes out his phone and as he dials and puts it to his ear, Steve puts the folder down and then he jogs rapidly away, aware that his job is done.
Chris calls and calls, but Effe’s phone is switched off. Trembling, he calls Eyram’s number again and again. She responds finally in a rushed voice.
“Chris, dearest, can you call back in about ten minutes?” she says earnestly. “I’m in the middle of something very urgent right now.”
“Is Junior your son? Did you and Steve contribute to the In-Vitro Fertilization of Junior?”
“Oh, my God! Chris, where are you?” Eyram asks, absolutely stunned and in great shock. “Please let me come over, please.”
“IS JUNIOR YOUR EGG AND STEVE’S SPERM?” Chris screams harshly.
“Chris! Please relax!” Eyram says, trying to be calm but unable to stop her shock and sudden fear. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come…”
“ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION, IRA!”
“Calm down, Chris. Please calm down.”
“ANSWER ME, IRA, GODAMN IT!”
“You don’t understand, Chris,” Eyram says forlornly. “You just don’t understand… yes, it is true, Chris, but there are other aspects you obviously don’t know about. You’re the one Effe loves. She loves you very much, and she didn’t –”
Chris screams then and throws his phone away.
He screams as he spins and smashes his leg into the railings of the veranda, and then he smashes a fist into the door, and it flies off its hinges. As he enters the room crying and screaming and hurt, Barbara’s car turns into the yard, and she drives to the Boys’ Quarters.
She gets down quickly and races after Chris into the room.
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