A Second Chance

The door creaked and a few heads turned in its direction to see who the latest addition to Waiting Room 104 was. Those few heads had turned not out of curiosity but out of desperation to welcome any sort of activity to room 104 that had a miserably boring aura to it and lacked any sort of excitement. As the figure at the door opened the door wider making it creak louder, many more heads shot up, this time out of irritation due to the noise of the door that made one wrinkle their noses and insert their fingers in their ears. But soon the irritated looks vanished and were replaced by ones of awe. A woman in the corner stopped sewing and her needle fell to the floor with a soft clink. A man leaning against the wall sipping coffee dropped his cup splashing the hot drink on the floor. The cleaner of Room 104—a man who had never studied science but boasted he was faster than light—standing a few feet away would have otherwise rushed to the spot of the mess to clean it up before anyone could create a fuss about it, but stood rooted to his spot taking no notice of the coffee spill. It was nothing short of the flickering of a light bulb, one moment all was dull and the next moment everyone’s faces lit up as a common expression of shock was plastered on each member of Waiting Room 104. The figure that appeared in the doorframe of the entrance to the room could now also add making a lady completely block out her wailing child to her list of achievements in the field of securing the interest of everyone present in Room 104 and making sure each pair of eyes was riveted on her; all but one.

Faith, seated at the far end of the room was also among those who displayed stupefaction on their faces but unlike the others, she wasn’t stupefied seeing the woman at the door. What amazed her was the sudden hush that had fallen over the room like a curtain. Except for the occasional whining of a baby, it seemed as if people had ceased to possess the power of speech. Faith was perplexed. As the people stared unblinkingly, Faith’s head oscillated between the people and the woman at the door like the pendulum of a clock. As the woman walked into Room 104 letting the door creak its way back to its initial position, no one bothered to shut their ears.

The woman wore a dazzling red dress that hugged her figure and accentuated her curves. Her hair was up in a low sleek bun—air-hostess style. Her short dress exposed her long, toned legs. Her sunglasses rested on her head while a small purse fit comfortably inside her right hand. Her attire screamed of reputed brands among the ranks of Chanel, Prada, Dior, etc. Her features were sharp and spoke that no amount of aging could ever dim their bearer’s youth and charisma. Oh hello, this is a waiting room, not a wedding venue; so overdressed, Faith thought. But she found it hard to believe that the woman’s peculiar choice of outfit was the reason why everyone was gaping at her.

She walked to the center of the room and a soft laugh, like the sound of a waterfall, escaped from her lips. She looked around at her audience, examining them carefully. Her gaze had that quality to it that made one feel as if she had peeked into their heart.

“I had a strong hunch today that within a few minutes of me leaving home, my hairstyle would deceive me. But I don’t think I look grotesque enough to make myself worthy of receiving the undivided attention of you all.”

Her voice had a melodious ring to it, making her sentences sound like lyrics from a song.

The moment Faith had laid eyes on the woman, a feeling that told her the woman seemed like a celebrity had taken birth inside her, and with every passing second, this feeling grew stronger and stronger. Being the daughter of a man who worked in the film production business, she had an eye for such things. The way the woman carried herself, her manner of speaking and addressing the people, made Faith almost say out loud—with conviction—“She works in Hollywood.”

As the pretty woman stood gracefully between the people, waiting for a response, a lady rose from her seat slowly and cautiously and moved towards where the former stood.

“How…..how can….what are you….what are you doing here?”

Faith frowned.

And then as if he’d been hit with a hammer, the cleaner suddenly sprang to action, rushed towards the spot of the coffee spill, but instead of stopping near the coffee, he walked past it and halted right before the pretty woman. Holding his broom before him like a weapon, he held the pretty woman at broom-point, similar to the fashion in which a cop holds his suspect at gunpoint.

“Who are you?” he asked her.

“Oh I know I’m not world famous but have you not seen me anywhere else? It’s okay if you haven’t but surely if you live in this country you must have at least heard of me if not seen me?”

Faith was here as a tourist, she didn’t live here. Maybe that was why she hadn’t recognized the pretty woman. But from the questions the latter was being asked to answer, Faith inferred that even the locals around her didn’t seem to know her (the pretty woman).

“You are not the Blaze Bonney we know,” the cleaner said, eyeing the pretty woman suspiciously, and then, exactly how he had sprung to action after remaining stock-still for many seconds on seeing the pretty woman, he screamed, “WHO ARE YOU!”

Faith frowned. She was confused, nevertheless, she watched with curiosity as the drama unfurled before her.

“Mr.……um….Cooper,” the pretty woman said, squinting at the cleaner’s name badge. “Mr. Cooper would you mind keeping that tool of yours away from my face, it stinks.”

Cooper lowered his broom.

With the return of some movement in the room since the pretty woman had added her presence to it, the others also slowly started regaining their ability to think about what was happening and contribute to the talking that was going on.

The woman in the corner who was busy sewing before the entrance of the pretty woman, picked up her needle and setting aside her sewing work, made her way to the center of Room 104, which in this situation also served as a stage for the audience to look at. Extracting a wooden cross, the size of one’s hand, from her pocket, the woman said, “What is your purpose? Where have you come from?”

Overcome with frustration and desperate for some clarity on the matter, Faith elbowed the guy sitting beside her and asked, “Hey, who is Blaze Bonney?”

The guy gave her a long sideward glance before responding, “Blaze Bonney worked in this country’s film business.”

“Oh yes! I knew it!”

“You know her? She’s never done a Hollywood film. She wasn’t even fortunate enough to get more than four films in our local market.”

“No no…. I don’t know her.”

“But what’s up with all these fellas? Why are they acting so weird? I would’ve expected them to scurry forward asking for an autograph,” Faith enquired.

The guy answered after a long pause, “See, the thing is,” he stopped again, this time for dramatic effect, and asked Faith to hold her breath for he was going to reveal something that would make her jaw drop. Faith waved her hand impatiently and asked him to hurry up.

“Blaze Bonney…….died a week back. It was all over the news.”

Faith’s reaction to this ‘jaw-dropping’ news was far from what the guy had expected. Seeing Faith’s reaction, he felt dejected and hurt.

“Nice joke, but I don’t have time for your nonsense,” she said, with an incredulous expression.

“For a girl named Faith, you seem to have no faith in the truth I am speaking.”

“Do you see ‘dumb’ written here?” she said, pointing to her forehead. Deciding that it was not going to do her any good talking to the guy beside her, she was about to turn the other way to ask someone else when she suddenly froze. The realization should have hit her earlier. She turned back to the guy and said:

“I don’t remember mentioning to you my name.”

“Err…..oh…you don’t? Um...maybe… maybe you should eat more almonds. Helps the memory, you know.” But Faith wasn’t listening to him. What had captured her attention was that everyone, including Blaze Bonney, was staring at her; staring as if she were a ghost. She was the new subject of interest for all of them. Faith’s eyes traveled throughout the room and she almost touched her hair to check if she had grown horns.

Blaze Bonney, meanwhile, let her eyes meet those of two of the men in Room 104 and quickly signaled them telling them what had to be done. Receiving her signal, they rushed to Faith and caught hold of both her arms. The blood drained from Faith’s face and her eyes widened. She struggled to free herself from their grip but found herself trapped in the grasp of their strong, bulky arms. “Let go of me! You’re hurting me! Help! Someone, please!” she cried out. But her audience, who were previously Blaze Bonney’s, did nothing but watch as if they had been prepared to witness what they were witnessing. A wave of panic washed over Faith as she continued to fight and scream her lungs out but realized that in doing so, she was doing more harm than good; she was wasting her energy. She spat in the face of the man to her right, but neither did he flinch nor bother to wipe his face; he remained motionless and completely unaffected.

“Relax Faith. Just relax,” Blaze Bonney said, moving toward Faith. There was a smug look on Bonney’s face that made Faith’s blood boil.

“What the hell do you mean ‘relax’? Tell these punks to get their hands off me.”

“Oh dear Faith, you see, I actually can’t do that.”

“Who are you? What is your problem? Why” she looked around the room, “is she doing this? Please, help me. Call the police someone, please,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes. Her vexation at not getting any answers along with the throbbing pain in her arms where the men held her made her feel exhausted and completely burnt out. All she wanted was to shut her eyes and collapse on the floor. But she knew she couldn’t give up. Not so easily.

“Wait till my father hears about this. He will ruin your life!” Faith tried her best to sound fierce, but standing before Blaze Bonney she couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

Bonney moved closer to Faith until their faces were inches apart. “Your father is the one you should be blaming for all this,” she seethed.  

“What has he got to do with all of this?”

“Oh, you’re a good actor. Planning to go into movies soon? If not, you should.”

“I. HAVE. NO. IDEA. WHAT. YOU’RE. TALKING. ABOUT!”

“Like father, like daughter!” Bonney said, letting out a low dark laugh.

“Listen, Blazer Bones. Just let me go please.”

“Blaze Bonney.”

“Yah whatever. Either tell me what’s going on or just let me go.”

Bonney spoke, staring blankly into space, lost in deep thought, “Your father, the movie tycoon. You’re saying he’ll ruin my life? Well, he’s already done that.

“I was called to the States for a photoshoot. And your father was the one who had called me. He said a friend of his had recommended me to him and that I’d better not let him down. I said I’d try my best. After the shoot, your father said to me that I did a terrible job and selecting me—I quote—‘a talentless, useless, worthless person who wouldn’t even excel at a profession of scrubbing toilets’ was the worst decision he’d ever made. He refused to pay me a penny for my work.

“I went to his office the next day but he refused to meet me. He made me wait for him for hours and hours and I did wait for hours and hours when he finally scrambled into his office late at night. He had returned from a club, drunk.”

“Wait wait wait.” Faith was aghast at Bonney’s words. What a wicked liar, she thought. She was horrified and disgusted. She was not going to let her heart get swayed by the words uttered from the mouth of her captor. She had tried paying attention initially, hoping she would be able to make some sense of the situation at the end of Bonney’s speech, but she was not going to tolerate the wretched woman anymore. She wasn’t going to hear another word against her father.

“Oh, you’re a good story writer. Planning to write a novel soon? If not, you should,” Faith said, looking right into Bonney’s eyes.

Bonney was infuriated. She caught Faith’s jaw, digging her fingers painfully into Faith’s cheeks, and said, “Don’t you dare interrupt me while I’m speaking!”

Faith felt a sense of satisfaction within her on succeeding in annoying Bonney. Bonney released Faith’s jaw and went on with her narrative.

“He was drunk. He came up to me and told me to get out. I threatened to file a case against him if he didn’t give me my money. I even apologized for my lackadaisical performance, even though there was no need to. I begged him to give me another chance. He refused.”

“Okay, but what do you want from me!?”

“You are so very dear to his heart, aren’t you? That’s exactly what makes you so useful, honey.”

Faith’s heart pounded inside her chest. She still had many more questions unanswered.

“Who are all these people? Are they with you?” Bonney did not answer. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” Faith said.

Bonney had to relent. “Yes, they work for me.”

Instead of clearing, the confusion clouding Faith’s mind got denser.

“Okay so if all of these work for you, and to capture me was the plan all along, why not get to it immediately. Why put up this stupid act?”

“Since your father snatched from me my passion, snatched from me my every chance to do what I loved the most—acting—that is why I thought, even though my acting career was ruined while I walked the earth as an alive being, let me at least use this as an opportunity. All these people around you, my loyal friends, readily agreed.”

“What! What do you mean when you were alive?”

“Oh Faith, Jones” Bonney pointed to the guy Faith had talked to “was indeed telling you the truth when he said that I died.

That night, we had an ugly row; me and your father. He kept telling me to leave but I wouldn’t stop persisting. The greedy fool just couldn’t part with his money. It went on this way for several minutes before your father drew out a gun from his desk drawer and shot me in the head.” Bonney closed her eyes, her face revealing the sharp stab of pain she felt every time she thought about the incident.

“But you see,” she continued, “I have always been a stubborn and head-strong woman. How could I ever forgive the man who murdered me? And guess what, your father doesn’t believe in second chances but God does."