He was going back. After twenty-two years, Anthony was finally going back to where it all began. He could not believe it. He was running towards the only place he had been running from the entire time. A feeling of shame washed over his body. He had been debating about this for years, but he knew in his gut that the only thing that made him book a ticket to Yemen was the fact that he could not find sleep for two straight weeks. And for the first time in almost two decades, it was not because of anything work related.

At first, it was okay. Well, not okay, but bearable. After all, he had been living with the nightmares and voices in his head since his fifteen-year-old self first set foot on Canadian soil. From when he struggled to find his feet in an entirely new world as a teenager with new parents who had just escaped a war-torn country, while settling into high school, while finishing as a top student in a top Canadian University, while finishing top of his class at law school….

He quickly took a right onto the 401 Express. Google Maps told him there were 50 minutes left ‘till he gets to Pearson Airport. Right on time. He wasn’t due for check-in until 11 a.m., but it wasn’t a crime to beat the stubborn 401 traffic and cruise on a rarely seen, almost empty road in his favorite blue Corvette at 6am on an already sunny July morning. He knew he had been a strong man because of the support of his foster parents, who were Nigerian-born, fleeing their home country at the beginning of the Biafra War before becoming accomplished Bay street lawyers in Toronto. They were the only ones who really understood him, and with their help, coupled with some counselling, he was able to suppress the demons in his head, most of the time anyway. Until two weeks ago. Until he realized that he had just successfully defended a murderer.

He turned on the radio. Some Taylor Swift song was playing. “Terrific,” he muttered and turned the radio off as swiftly as he turned it on. Music had always been a way of shutting the voices out of his head, but not lately. Now they were as loud as they were when he first left Yemen. Maybe if he didn’t leave out that important part about Abdul to his parents, if he didn’t just tell his wife about only a week ago, he would have overcome his inner darkness. They would have certainly understood—they had never spared any expenses on his upbringing. They were always kind to him, sending him to the best schools and buying him anything he wanted.

Why did it bother him so much? After all, he was a murderer himself, wasn’t he? Anyone who betrayed their brother to death might as well have killed him.

He knew that being a lawyer was not one of the cleanest professions, especially in his field; corporate law. Now he understood why his parents never wanted him to follow their path.

“You have been through a lot, aku’m. I don’t want you to lose your soul,” they said. But no, Anthony was too stubborn. His parents were lawyers and they were the best people he had ever met. He loved the law and he wanted to make them proud by all means, and there was no better way to do that than be a lawyer himself. He seemed to be well on his way to doing just that after securing a job at R.I.I.S.E.; one of the top-tier law firms in North America and the best in Canada. His latest victory had made him a junior partner at the firm.

“We are so proud of you,” his mother had said on the phone a few days ago. Her voice was filled with joy.

He released his feet off the accelerator as he was almost reaching the speed limit. He sighed. The roads might feel empty, but he knew the cops were always hiding between the bushes, especially in these parts of the 401 around Don Mills, waiting to catch traffic violators.

He felt sick to his stomach. If only his parents knew what he did to get there. He might not have gotten the confirmation he needed from the high value client he was defending. He was sure in his gut that he was defending a guilty man, but he still went ahead and did it. Everyone was so proud of him now. The case was a make or break case. The only one he had ever heard his father, who had been a highly respected lawyer for 30 years, call impossible. That was why the co-chairs granted him a week leave when he requested it. He was the firm’s youngest ever junior partner and that was their way of making him feel special. Otherwise, they were never very lenient on absences at work.

One look at them and Anthony knew that they also knew that Dixon Bradley did it. The problem was the normalcy that seemed to go with their demeanour. He wasn’t ready for this kind of life. Deep down, he knew his mother had been right: he lost his soul. He suddenly felt numb. Maybe that was why he was too distracted to see the big green truck speeding in the direction of his car from the left.

***

Anthony opened his eyes and looked to the left side of the bed. A man was sitting beside him. It was not until he tried to get up and pain shot through almost every part of his body that he realized he was in the hospital. Bandages covered his body.

“You’re awake,” the man said. He sounded young, but Anthony couldn’t see clearly, so he could not know who the man was.

“The… green truck,” was all Anthony could whisper.

“You were in an accident. You’ve been out for a few hours.” Anthony was too dizzy to reply.

“It was time for me to come take you home, Abba.”

That name. It couldn’t be. Nobody had called him that name in years. Only his parents knew that Anthony was an adopted name, taken up to chase away the ghosts of his past. He could see clearly now and what he saw made his heart stop. It was Abdul.

“Brother….” He looked exactly like him. “I was going back home to find you before the accident. What happened in Yemen…?” Tears welled up in his eyes.

Abdul did not look angry. His eyes were as kind as ever. “I understand. It wasn’t your fault. One of us had to survive and I wasn’t going to let you die for me.”

Anthony’s pain began to ease. He slowly started feeling strength, as if he wasn’t just in an accident. “What happened to you? How did you survive?”

Abdul frowned and got up, beckoning for Anthony to follow. Anthony stood up and they started heading for the white door ahead. “I didn’t. I’m dead, Abba…so are you.”

A woman’s tears from behind made Anthony turn around. It was his wife. Some nurses and doctors were trying to console her as she sat crying beside his lifeless body on the bed. Anthony tried to call her name. He screamed, but nobody in the room could hear him besides his brother.

***

Anthony woke up in a bead of sweat. It was just a dream. He sighed in relief, checking his phone. It was 5am. Dixon’s trial was at 8am. 3 hours away from making junior partner or disappointing everyone that mattered.

Guilt clouded his spirits. He knew the man was guilty. Was it worth it to sell his soul for a few millions? One look at his sleeping wife beside him and his two-year-old daughter before he drove to work in his foreign car, and he knew the answer.

It was too late to turn back. There was no redemption for him.

By Temiloluwa Dada

Please note that opinions expressed are the author’s own. They do not necessarily reflect the views and values of The Blank Page.