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| Charles, Nike and Winifreda |
"I was wondering when you would come" she says, smiling. "I'm famished."
"I'm here. Winnie."
The waiter comes with the menu. They choose their meals. Then they eat quietly.
"I brought the papers. Signed. But the judge needs your consent."
He picks up the papers. And read through.
"That was fast. Do you trust him,"
"It's a walk over. He is my uncle. He does for me whatever l ask him to do. He can't wait seeing me marry you."
"Great," he says, chuckling. "
Winifreda giggles. She picks up the serviette, douses her lips. Then sips her juice.
There was a brief silence. Then Charles takes her hand, smiling.
"I don't have any evidence against her. How do we proof what we have on this paper? They are outrageous."
Winifreda opens her bag, fumbles out some pictures, and spreads them on the table.
Charles hesitates touching them but looks down at them with disdain, unbelievably.
Despicable! Anger rises, wrinkles crisscross his face. Frowning, he picks up one in his trembling hand to scrutinize it. Then he drops it. And bowed his head, staring at the table. Winifreda begins to rub his hand. Then she holds him.
"l still doubt the pix," he says, raising his head.
"Sunny followed her up. I would never doubt his expertise and sincerity. Moreover he hasn't got any reason to break up your family."
"The film, please."
She digs out a roll of film from her bag. And hands it over to him.
Charles is quiet, unable to say further words. Nike! Could Nike do this to me? Could Nike do this thing to me? When all these years, together, we're looking for a child. She's into this cruel despicable. No, she wouldn't, he thought. His heart breathless, too heavy to bear the news. Futile furtive smiles came to his lips.
"With this evidence, you can start a new life. I will help you raise a good family," says Winifreda.
Charles pushes his dish further away. He picks his glass of water, and begins to sip.
"How much does the judge charge?"
"Nothing."
"Just nothing! It's absurd, Winnie."
"He is my uncle. He has seen the films. He has no doubt of the law granting divorce."
Charles keeps quiet, his mind wondering about. In a jiffy the restaurant had filled up, mostly with young men and women in cool clothed, chatting brightly, dining expensive meals and beverages. Are they in the same mood as l, he ponders. Are they with their spouses or ...?
"Mom wants to see you," she continues.
"Not now, Winnie," he says.
"When dear, She is worried her daughter is getting married to a person she's yet to meet," she says. Sham frowns placating her face.
Charles chuckles.
"Winnie, things have been uptight. Work! Work!" Then he saw creases on her brow. "Let's look forward, this weekend, may be," furtive smiles twisting his lips again.
Her face brightens. Flushes deepening the dimples on her cheeks. Her white teeth, set even, spreading out. The black Brazilian hair falling to her shoulders, swaying as she keeps shaking off, turning away crops of hair covering her eyes.
"Thank you, darling," she says, and lifts the glass of juice to her lips. "Are you going home?"
Charles held the edge of the table. His mind in turmoil, running wild. Nike can't get away with this mess. Messing me up. I am not safe with her, he thinks. He folds the paper. And put it in his top pocket.
"I will take you home," he says.
"Thank you, dear."
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