The Tragic Tale of Howard Part 7
A West African 9-Part Series short story about loss, second chance, betrayal and personal demons.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the sky, Howard made his way home from another day’s work at Ola’s mansion. The renovation project was nearing completion, with only the final touches of paint left to apply to the exterior and interior of the home. Despite the fatigue weighing heavily on his shoulders, Howard felt a surge of happiness coursing through his veins, so strong that he felt he could break into a dance right there on the street.
It had been nearly a month and a half since the day he poured his heart out to Ola. Since then, she had embraced him with unwavering support and shared her secret business plan: a partnership with him in a venture to renovate the homes of the wealthy. The idea of someone like Ola, a successful businesswoman, wanting to collaborate with him, seemed surreal. Not long ago, he had lost himself in the depths of despair, drowning in alcohol and meandering through the streets. Now, thoughts of drinking were a distant memory, replaced by the consuming focus of his work at Ola’s home. He was determined to do his best and get the job done, driven by a desire not to disappoint the one person in the entire country who showed genuine care for him.
Howard saw Ola like a mother, feeling that she already surpassed even his own mother in terms of kindness and empathy. She hardly knew him and there she was catering to his needs: offering him shelter or a flat free of charge, clothing such as comfortable work overalls made from cotton, and instructing her house staff to provide him with breakfast, lunch, and dinner upon his request. And that was not taking into account the fact that she paid him and his men promptly—without delay—for their work completed.
The offer of a free flat caught Howard completely off guard. It happened just two weeks ago, but the memory was etched in his mind as if it had happened yesterday. It was one of the happiest moments of his life.
Ola had instructed Isaac to tell Howard to meet her at her company when he arrived at the mansion that morning. Following Ola’s instructions, Howard arrived at the company and was escorted into a large executive office where he found the businesswoman holding a key, gently swinging it back and forth. “I can’t have my future business partner living on the streets,” she said, handing him the key. “It’s a simple flat just outside of the city, away from all the foolishness and temptations.”
Howard hesitated, expressing his concern that he wouldn’t be able to afford the rent for such a place. But Ola quickly reassured him, insisting that the flat was hers to provide, considering it as part of her investment in him. She emphasized she expected their business partnership to repay her “more than a 10x return.” Howard vividly remembered the firm handshake and the icy stare in Ola’s eyes as she spoke those words.
As he walked along the dimly lit streets towards his new home, Howard’s mind buzzed with excitement at the prospect of starting a business with Ola. The idea of partnering with her in a luxury home renovation venture filled him with anticipation and hope for the future. Despite the hardships he had faced, Howard knew that with Ola by his side, things would change for the better—by far.
Upon approaching the door to his flat, Howard reached into his pocket. Fingers fumbled for the keys to unlock the door. However, they grasped nothing but empty air. A wave of excitement now overtaken by panic.
Frantically, he racked his brain, trying to recall where he might have left them. Then, like a bolt of lightning, the memory struck him: he had placed the keys under one of Ola’s patio chairs earlier that day. It was a precautionary measure really, meant to prevent them from falling out of his pockets as he worked with the paint brushes.
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Howard’s stomach as he remembered that today was the day Ola’s house staff and her children had gone to visit their grandparents, leaving the mansion empty. Ola herself was out of the country, having left a week ago to attend a business conference in London.
Without wasting a moment, Howard rushed back to the mansion, his mind racing with worry. What if he had misremembered, and the keys weren’t under the chair? Or worse, what if one of the workers had found them and taken them? He couldn’t bear the thought of facing Ola and admitting he had lost her keys. How would that make him look in her eyes? A business partner who had just received the keys to his new place, only to lose them in less than a month. More like a careless teenager or an absolute fool who couldn’t be trusted with any responsibility.
Breathless and panting, Howard arrived at the mansion, having sprinted the entire way. The darkness enveloped the mansion and yard, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon in the night sky.
Howard’s heart raced as he approached the mansion porch, his fingers trailing beneath each of the three patio cushions. Shadows danced around him in the moonlight, adding to his growing apprehension. With each cushion he checked, his tension mounted, fear gripping him tighter. Then, beneath the final cushion, his fingertips met the cool touch of metal. A wave of relief flooded through him as he grasped the keys, giving them a jingle before tucking them securely into his overalls’ bib pocket and giving it a reassuring pat.
As Howard turned to head back home, the wide-open, heavy oak front door of the mansion caught his attention. It struck him as odd—Annie, Isaac and the rest of Ola’s house staff did not look like the careless type. Howard approached the doorway cautiously and was met with the unmistakable sound of objects being rummaged through and scattered about. A burglary was in progress. He was sure of it; and judging from the noise, he figured it had to be one perpetrator. Burglaries in this area were certainly not out of the question, despite the wealthy and powerful residents. Howard believed these residents were easy targets for those who knew what they were doing.
Howard entered the mansion, tip-toeing up on the left double staircase and being careful not to make any noise. The flickering lights emanating from Ola’s room provided the only illumination in the otherwise pitch black residence, guiding his path as he moved cautiously upstairs.
As Howard ascended the stairway and reached the doorway leading into Ola’s room, his eyes widened at the sight before him. A lanky figure stood with his back turned, wielding a flashing light and rifling through the contents of an open wardrobe. Clothes and other items were carelessly tossed aside, littering the floor. Without a moment’s hesitation, Howard flicked on the room lights and charged towards the intruder, his voice filled with fury. “Fucking thiefman!”
The figure spun around, eyes filled with terror, as a hairy-faced man with a noticeable gap in his teeth bore down on him, arms outstretched. The figure, now revealed as a man in the light, screamed desperately, “Howard, it’s me! It’s me!”
Howard seized the man by his white collar, intending to hoist him into the air, only to tear the collar off in his fervor. Staggering back, the man regained his balance and darted towards the doorway. Just as he neared escape, a sudden force jerked him backward, spinning him forcefully around to face the enraged Howard.
“Howard, it’s me!” the man screamed again, putting his hands up. “Joseph! It’s Joseph!”
“Joseph?” Howard thought, registering the man’s words. He looked into the man’s frightened eyes and then his features, freezing in disbelief. It was Joseph, the young driver with a baby face whom Ola had recently hired after letting go of her old driver, Alpha. Howard noted the telltale black suit, white dress shirt, and black tie Joseph had worn earlier that day when chauffeuring Ola’s household and children, albeit with the shirt collar now missing.
“Joseph,” Howard said, his voice tinged with bewilderment, yet he maintained a firm grip on Joseph’s jacket. “What... what are you doi—”
“We can split whatever we find,” Joseph said in a high pitched voice. “Fifty-Fifty.”
“What?” Howard asked, tilting his head slightly. “What are you saying, man?”
“The Bosslady. She got some expensive things here. Wherever, we find, we can spli—”
Howard shook Joseph and pushed him to the ground. He pointed his finger at the young man. “You little shit! If you think I am going to steal from the Madam, you must be fucking crazy. You are not going anywhere but to the police. I don’t care if I have to drag your ass there.”
Joseph sprang up and clung to Howard’s legs. “Howard, please, please. Beat me like a dog. But don’t take me to the police. I will leave tonight. You will never see me around here.”
Howard felt his anger waning as the young man held tight onto his legs, groveling. “You were young once,” he thought to himself. Only he and God knew the depths of his past transgressions. He sighed. “Get up, Joseph.”
Joseph released his arms around Howard’s ankles; he rose slowly until he was looking the older man in the eyes.
“Howard, please,” Joseph said, still pleading. “Don’t take me to the police. Mi papa is sick. I needed money to pay the hospital.”
Howard could see tears welling up in Joseph’s eyes. He really was a kid after all: soft curly hair, a round smooth face, clean-shaven with dimples. Howard took a deep breath, thinking about himself 30 years ago when he first set foot on MIT’s campus. As he exhaled, he felt all the anger inside of him coming out.
“Listen,” he said, pointing and wagging his finger at Joseph. “I’m not involving the police this time. But if I catch you doing anything like this again, they’ll be the least of your worries.”
“Oh thank you, thank you so much, Howard. Never. I would never do it again. You are a good man. Really good man.” With his hands in his pockets, Joseph lowered his head and walked towards the doorway. However, before he could exit the room, he felt a sudden force pulling him back.
“You are not going anywhere until you first clean up the mess you made. Just the way you found it.”
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