The Tragic Tale of Howard Part 9 (Finale)
A West African 9-Part Series short story about loss, second chance, betrayal and personal demons.
“Boss, there’s been an accident on the freeway. We will have to take Market street to get home.”
“No problem, Joseph,” Ola replied, sinking back into her seat with a mix of fatigue and contentment. She lifted her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes, the weariness of the long flight and the intense week-long conference in London weighing heavily on her. The event had been a whirlwind of inspiration, a gathering of brilliant minds and innovative spirits, all hailing from the Motherland.
The conference had offered Ola a kaleidoscope of experiences. She had met many African women, each one a testament to determination and resilience in the tech world. From seasoned veterans to budding entrepreneurs, their stories of overcoming obstacles and shattering barriers had left an indelible mark on her. Their passion had reignited her own drive, inspiring her to reach for new heights in her own endeavors.
As Joseph maneuvered the car onto bustling Market Street, Ola gazed out of the window of her Mercedes Maybach, invigorated by the energy of the conference. Her mind raced with excitement and possibilities, particularly regarding the business venture she and Howard were about to embark on together.
With her tech-oriented mind and Howard’s skill sets, Ola was confident they could revolutionize the home renovation industry in their country. If their venture proved successful, she envisioned expanding their business into franchise models all over West Africa. The sky was the limit, and she was determined to reach for the stars.
As Ola gazed out of the window, she noticed the passing rows of market vendors and pedestrians beginning to slow down. Sensing the car’s deceleration, she was about to question Joseph about the sudden change in pace when her eyes landed on a figure seated on the curb, surrounded by empty green beer bottles.
“Stop the car, boy!” she yelled at Joseph. Reacting swiftly, Joseph brought the car to a stop, affording Ola an unobstructed view of the figure—a disheveled man, unmistakably Howard.
At the sight of him, her heart leaped in her chest. His denim overalls slouched around his waist, exposing the upper half of his bare bottom. The straps dangled, unhooked, like loose tendrils, while his once clean white T-shirt clung to him, rumpled and stained with scattered splatters of blood.
Pressing the button to lower the car window, she called out his name repeatedly, but Howard seemed oblivious, his head bobbing as he looked all around but in her direction.
Ola stepped out of the vehicle, closing the door behind her. As she turned to face Howard, their eyes met, revealing his bloodshot and puffy gaze. “Howard!” she called out again, walking towards him.
“Stay the fuck away from me, bitch!”
The vulgarity and intensity of the voice caught Ola off guard, causing her to freeze in her tracks. More so, the voice was unlike anything she had ever heard before: such deep-seated anger, such rage.
“Howard! How—”
“Stop fucking calling my name, bitch!” he yelled, his hands clutching his head as he shook it violently. “I can’t get her out of my head!”
As Ola cautiously stepped closer to Howard, he suddenly whipped around to face her, baring a toothless snarl akin to a wolf.
“I told you, bitch!” His voice thundered, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. “LEAVE. ME. THE. FUCK. ALONE!”
“Howard,” Ola said, begging. “Come, let’s go h-”
Before she could finish her sentence, Howard seized an empty beer bottle nearby and hurled it. Lucky for her, the bottle slipped from his grasp just as he released it, shattering into pieces on the concrete. Unlucky for him, she saw the intention.
Ola quickly turned and swung open her car door, sliding into the passenger’s seat and pulling the door shut. “Drive,” she said to Joseph, who promptly pressed his foot on the accelerator. Just before they sped off, Ola looked for the last time into the eyes of her potential business partner. Somewhere deep within him, she glimpsed the Howard she had grown accustomed to and fond of. She could see that Howard swimming, fighting and struggling to surface from the depths of a sea of booze to tell her that he was sorry and that it was all a misunderstanding.
As Joseph accelerated home, Ola’s thoughts raced. She believed she could help him. It wouldn’t be too difficult. Taking him to her church and finding the best treatment center immediately came to mind. It would be a long road to recovery for him that would require her time and attention. Time and attention that were, unfortunately, nonexistent due to running a company with 75 employees and, most importantly, caring for her children.
Joseph observed Ola through the rearview camera. He could see the tears running down the woman’s stoic face as she repeatedly wiped them off like windshield wipers. A soft smile graced his lips.
Thank You for Reading!
Subscribe to make sure you don’t miss future stories and series. Subscribers get first access to next week’s story: The Misadventures of Khadijah: The Wool Blanket.