". . .so I punched him in the face."

"But why did you punch him in the face, Mr. Moore?" The policeman cocked his head like he was expecting to hear something along the lines of well, because after x and y, the next alphabet wasn't z.

I stifled the look of irritation creeping up on my face and answered tiredly. "Because he was badmouthing my wife and talking about her in a disrespectful way. You don't get to talk bad about a man's wife and expect not to get punched in the face."

The five police men looked at each other and nodded. "He's right." One of them announced.

"But where were you exactly?" The one in the middle asked.

I lifted my hands that were propped on my knees and put them on the table. The policemen close to my left must have thought I was going to bring out a weapon or something, because his hand went to the waistband of his trousers and hovered there. When he saw all I did was change posture, he relaxed, but I noticed his attention was drawn to my knuckles.

Part of the skin on them was scraped and they were caked with blood.

The paparazzo's blood.

It gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I opened my mouth and began to relay exactly why I was sitting in front of a five-man panel at the police station.

Three hours earlier, I had just left my lab. You know that feeling that comes with a sense of accomplishment?

Best feeling ever!

It bubbled to the surface and pushed the grief that kept plaguing me to the back burner. But it wasn't just a sense of accomplishment I felt, it was of relief as well. Relief that what I had set out to do would finally come to an end, and all my expectations would be established.

After ten long years of back breaking research and holing myself up with my team in the lab day in and day out, it was finally here.

The end result.

Exceva would be birthed.

Finally.

What tied everything up was the call I got from Kelly.

Naturally, the first person I thought to got to with the news was Aretha. I remembered she loved the colour yellow, and fresh yellow tulips were her favorite flowers. When she was alive, I always got them for her. I wasted no time, for once I left the lab, I went straight to the nearest florist.

Luckily, there was one on the same street the laboratory was situated at, so I headed there.

To my disappointment, the florist said she had just sold the last batch of yellow tulips and would I like to take the red or the pink one's?

I told her I didn't want any other colour apart from yellow. She advised me to go for the yellow roses instead, because they technically represented the same things which were peace, love and joy. I agreed and picked two bouquets of yellow roses.

While she was ringing them up, I noticed a coy smile appear on her face and I knew what would happen next. She looked up at me and smiled. "Forgive my asking this, but these roses are for a special someone, I believe?"

"Yes, they are." I replied a little curtly but followed it with a smile to tamper down my words.

She was quiet for a bit. Even though her fingers practically raced across the keypad, I wondered why she was taking so long in registering the flowers. I had the sneaky feeling she was stalling in order to ask me further questions. Then she looked up, and that coy smile sat wider on her face. "She must be something special."

It was my turn to smile coyly. "Oh, my wife definitely is, but now she's dead."

As her mouth fell open, I picked up the bouquet of flowers from where they lay on the counter and walked out. I wasn't ready to listen to her sympathy. Once I got into the car, I told Eric to take me to Rose garden cemetery where Aretha was buried. Some minutes later when we got there, I took out the package beside me as well as the two bouquets of yellow roses and left the car. Eric proffered his help in carrying them but I shook my head.

This was something I needed to do on my own.

As I walked forward, I felt the unwelcome presence of despair once again. It's cloying tentacles rose to take root in the centre of my chest and I felt the beginnings of a headache at my temples. I saw the caretaker in the distance but avoided his eyes. I didn't want anyone's company except Aretha's.

As I walked my way to the back where she lay, I saw a couple to my right. They spoke quietly as they knelt with their heads bowed low in front of a tombstone. I knew it wasn't any of my business, but I looked anyway. Anything to keep the despair at bay that was making it's way to my throat and clogging it.

My mouth fell open when I saw the year on the tombstone - I closed my eyes in pain for them. The person in the grave must have been their child. I shook my head to try to clear it of my sad thoughts and kept moving forward.

Aretha's tombstone reared up suddenly and I realized I had spaced out on the short distance here.

"Hello, my love." I placed the package on the ground and put the yellow roses on her tomb. "Short time no see." I chuckled mirthlessly.

"So I wrote a little something for you." I took out a piece of paper from inside my jacket. It was all crumpled and the ink had run into each other, messing up the words.

I couldn't for the life of me remember what I had written on it, but I'd be damned if I didn't try. I threw the crumpled paper away and cleared my throat like I was about to audition for a role in 'America's got talent.'

"Roses are yellow, violets are blue, you left me suddenly, but I'll always love you."

I shook my head, trying to rid it of the tears that sprang to my eyes. I smiled through them and got down on my hunches. I removed the bottle of wine and two glasses from the bag. After pouring a reasonable amount in each glass, I clinked the glasses and put her's on her tombstone.

"I got the best for you, baby-Don perignon. Remember you always liked to take it with strawberries. I didn't bring any through."

I took a sip from my glass and grimaced. "You know I'm more of a hard liquor person." I chuckled once again.

I had suddenly become sweaty so I removed my jacket and draped it across my knee. "Remember when we went baby shopping because we found out you were expecting junior?" That was actually the beginning of our troubles. "We both had baby fever, because we just found out it was a boy, so you dragged me - yes- I dare say it."

I lifted a finger in the air, smiling as I remembered. "You dragged me to that store. Not the one close to the house, the big departmental one on district road where they sell wholesale baby stuff. You said since we were going to be rich anyway, thanks to Exceva, we should buy a year's worth of baby things."

The smile faded from my lips. "Good thing we never made it there. The call came just on time, the call that changed everything, the call that was the beginning of the end."

I shook my head, remembering it all. The memories flowed into my head like hot larva, smouldering everything they touched. "Perhaps it would have been better we never got married, just like mum said." I shook my head, annoyed at the words I had just uttered. "I've never been able to understand why certain people are so hooked on the colour of people's skins."

I looked down at her tombstone. "To me you were perfect, my love, and you would always remain perfect in this life and beyond."

I looked up and noticed the glass I poured for her was still full. "Drink, my love." I stood and poured it in front of her tombstone.

"My condolences, Mr. Moore."

I turned round sharply to see a man pointing a camera at my face. A flash went off, momentarily startling me. "Are you for real now? Can't a man mourn in peace?"

"Sorry for your loss, once again, but just to be clear, was your wife African American, 'cause I wasn't quite sure when I saw her pictures. She looked quite light to me. I had an argument with my friends that she was probably a mixture of a white dad and a black mum, but between you and I, maybe she was just using a lightening cream?"

The audacity of this man was ludicrous.

I didn't think, I just acted. I flung myself across the short distance to him and unleashed all my pent up anger on him. Each time my fist landed on his face, anger surged through me. Anger that Aretha had not lived long enough, anger towards myself for being angry, and anger towards a society that couldn't just live in peace with other people irrespective of the colour of another person's skin.

Over and over again, my fist met with his face until someone pulled me away. By then, his face was a bloody mass of pink and red.

When I looked up to see who still held my hand, it was the man who I had seen kneeling in front of his child's grave.

"Wow!" One of the policemen exclaimed when I finished relaying what happened.

Lesson number one: Money and power earns respect. That was probably why I wasn't in a jail cell right about now.

"He shouldn't have said those words." One of the policemen shook his head.

"No! He definitely shouldn't have." Another one reiterated.

"Would you like to press charges?" Another one piped up suddenly.

I sighed and shook my head. "That won't be necessary. I just need to go back to my wife. We still have a pending discussion." I shrugged.

"Of course, of course." They all chorused.

And I walked out into the waning sunlight.

Could this morning get any messier?

Twice, I had spilt tea on two different ties, and twice, I had changed them. Two charcoal grey ties that would have immediately screamed elegant.

I blamed the two cups of tea I had binge-drunk in a fit of anxiety. The offending items sat on my bedside table looking deceptively innocent.

The question that had been creeping into my head after I removed yet the second tie, was what was I going to wear?

I was meant to meet with some members from the DEA today at my laboratory and I didn't want to mess it up like I had done the last time. The first impression was nothing to write home about, so the second one had to be near-perfect.

"Why don't you wear another tie?" The robot asked from behind me.

I had put back the microchip I removed back into it's head because I felt guilty and wanted to apologize. Not to the robot, but to Aretha, my wife. I knew she wouldn't like me shutting down the gift I bought for her.

I stood in front of the full length mirror and looked hard at the charcoal-grey colored blazer I had on. Underneath it was a white shirt. Since the two ties that would have gone with the blazer had been stained, I didn't know what to do. I had planned this outfit in my head since I woke this morning but now it had fallen apart.

One of these items I had on had to go.

I moved to my wardrobe and began to check for another replacement. Behind me, the robot approached. "You have twenty different shades of grey ties, ten different shades of red, five shades of blue, and fifty different colors of mixed ties. Surely, you can choose one from any of them."

"You've been going through my things?" I turned round to face it, shocked it knew so much about my clothings.

It laughed an eerily human laugh, and its hands rose into the air. "Aretha made sure I memorized all of your things."

"Hmm!" I turned and began removing my blazer. "But she didn't teach you about colour coordination, obviously."

I removed the white shirt I had on and changed it to a navy blue one. I kept on the charcoal grey blazer and opted to go without a tie.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, I picked up my phone and the robot bid me goodbye as I walked out of the room.

*

The next few hours I spent briefing my staff at the lab about the DEA and how they needed to comport themselves when they came. If you knew scientists, you'd know we liked to stay in a relaxed environment while working, which meant jotters filled with notes were usually splayed all over the table, and some petri dishes and magnifying glasses were also jostling for space as well as various other canisters used in mixing various compounds.

Sometimes, explosions would take place, exactly as one did last week, due to the explosive properties of a particular compound, and well, it wasn't exactly a pretty sight for external eyes.

So repairs had been underway ever since Kelly dropped the bomb on me three days ago about the DEA giving me a second chance and guess what - instead of coming on the day they said they would come, which was tomorrow, they decided to come today.

I tried not to lose my shit, and it worked - mostly.

"Why is this place messy?"

Raymond, one of my Chemists, looked at me with eyes that were red and smarting. "We just cleaned that area - twice."

I looked at it again and nodded. Sure enough, it looked clean. The coming of the DEA had gotten me hallucinating. I needed everything to be in tip top shape.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. "Hello, Kelly."

"They've arrived. They need to be cleared by security. For goodness' sake, Alex, nothing can go wrong today."

I nodded, like she could see me, and placed a call to the head security to give free clearance to the DEA. Five of my staff and I stood at the entrance of the door wearing big smiles as three of them approached. I recognized Mr. Hendricks and the other two, but I didn't see the rest.

I looked behind therm wonderingly, expecting to see more of them pouring in.

"Oh, it's just us three." Mr. Hendricks proffered. "We have a lot of inspections to do today so we had to divide ourselves."

My smile wavered. Did that mean their attention was being vied for in other laboratories, and for the same thing as well?

I couldn't answer that question. My team were already leading the three of them inside the laboratory. I followed behind, my initial ardor reduced. I felt like a deflated balloon and my attention had to be called back a few times by Mr. Hendricks when it wandered.

Simon took the lead as he led them around the research laboratory, pointing out the different equipments and giving them a little background story of how he was hired. As he spoke, his eyes lit up from within and they sparkled. His whole face transformed into something I had never seen.

That was when it hit me.

Simon was proud. As my head molecular biologist, I hired him when I had absolutely nothing except a big dream. Over the years, he had seen the myriad of trials and attempts it took before we finally settled on the final solution that would be called Exceva.

I heard pride in his words, but I wasn't the only one who heard it. My attention was drawn to Mr. Hendricks and the rest of his team. They listened avidly and asked questions as we moved round.

The laboratory sat on the entire length of one end of three plots of land to the other end. It was divided into three sections, namely the research, development and the testing section. Simon had just finished explaining to them about the different research going on as well as the different containers where the second and third solutions to follow Exceva were in. He further explained to them that it would be in three batches, starting with Exceva.

At the next section, my head chemist, Collins, took over. He talked about how different solutions were developed using both stable and unstable compounds in order to see how they would interrelate amongst themselves. I must say, I couldn't have explained to Mr. Hendricks and his team any better.

To say I was proud was a gross understatement.

The last and final section in the laboratory was the testing section which was basically the last and final stage. I stepped in and showed them round the cages where the rabbits and monkeys were kept. I talked about how we had injected only those who had cancerous growth with Exceva solution and how they had responded positively.

Even as I spoke, I was informed that five out of the ten people who were in the beginnings of various cancer growths, were around and waiting to be injected.

I turned to Mr. Hendricks. "Would you, by any chance, like to witness the first human specimens being injected with Exceva solution?"

"I believe I speak for all of us when I say we would very much like to see this." He looked at the other two who were already nodding vigorously.

Simon led them to a section of the laboratory that was cordoned off from the rest of the testing lab. It had a floor to ceiling wide screen. As we watched, five men were led inside to seats. They still looked healthy, which meant the cancer cells in them were still at an early stage.

After taking their statistics and checking their blood pressures, they were told to roll up their sleeves and one of my lab technicians cleaned the tender area on the inside of their arms. I held my breath as I watched Exceva solution being injected into each of them.

Mr. Hendricks and his team were meant to observe the men for at least an hour. They watched for half of that time before they said they had seen enough.

As I escorted them out, Mr. Hendricks turned to me. "I heard about the death of your wife, please accept my condolences." He looked at his other two colleagues as they walked on and moved closer to me. "When I heard about it, I felt we needed to give you another chance, and I'm glad we did." He looked back at where we had just come out from. "You'll definitely be hearing from us."

I shook his hand and watched as he joined his colleagues, my heart heavy at the mention of Aretha's passing.

Help! I need an antidote for anxiety.

It had been one week. One week of twiddling my fingers and wearing my carpet thin. One week of not hearing back from the DEA.

I was almost foaming at the mouth. Everyday like clockwork, I would get to the office before anyone, because I was going stir-crazy at home amongst my staff. I probably checked the company mail about ten times every hour. When that didn't yield any fruit, I shifted my attention to my personal mail, and then it was back to the company mail once again.

And then I began to ruminate.

Maybe they got some alphabets mixed up. It had happened to me once when I sent a mail to a company and waited for weeks for a reply. They had eventually called saying they hadn't gotten any mail from me. Turned out I had mixed up an n with an m.

So maybe that was what probably happened.

Mr. Hendricks did seem impressed, so what was the big hold-up about?

A thought occurred to me. Perhaps they wanted to send me a personal text message but didn't have my number. But even as the thought was conceived, I shut it down.

That would have been highly unprofessional of them. And there was the fact that I guarded my phone number like a vault. Only a handful of people knew it. People I could literally swear wouldn't give it out.

I consoled myself with the saying that no news was good news. But the silence from their end was jarring to say the least.

The muted ring of my phone sounded off, taking me away from my scrambled thoughts. I patted my pocket but it was empty, then I remembered I had put it on my desk earlier on after receiving a call. Now, it was buried amongst the myriad of files on my table.

Not wanting it to ring off, but not able to find it, I pushed all the files to the side - big mistake - because I watched in horror as they slid across the desk. It was like slow motion, or maybe it was my mind that tried to slow things down.

Unfortunately for me, that only happened in movies.

All the papers in the files landed in a pile, with all the papers strewn all over the floor and my phone right alongside them. With the agility of a two year old, I dived for it. Unfortunately, it stopped ringing before I was able to get a hold of it. Even as I stared at it, upset with myself for being such a doofus, it rang once again.

This time I picked it immediately. "Alexander Moore, here."

As soon as I heard the chuckle, I mentally slapped myself for not checking the caller ID first.

"Is that anyway to answer your phone?"

I closed my eyes and curled my fist around the edge of my chair. "Hello . . . mother."

There was a pause on the line before she spoke. "Hello, Alex, son. Sorry I wasn't able to come for your wife's funeral, I had some important things to take care of."

I tightened my hands around my phone and tried to swallow a lump that had suddenly erupted in my throat. Oblivious of what I was going through, she continued speaking.

"Anyway, now that that woman is dead, when do you think you can remarry? And this time, it has to be to a woman that suits your status, especially one that can give me a grandchild."

I squeezed my eyes shut and then flexed my neck. My breathing had increased, along with the beating of my heart. I opened my eyes once more and silently counted to ten before I replied. "I was in the middle of a meeting. I'll call you back when I deem it fit to." And then I cut the call.

I knew I had just asked for it, because my phone rang again almost immediately. I picked the call quite alright, but left the phone on the table.

She could talk to herself for all I cared.

Was it a crime to be an only child?

Maybe it was an anathema to marry whomever I pleased?

Oh! This was a good one.

Was it my fault she couldn't accept the fact that Aretha had captivated me from the get go against her wishes?

Whatever way I looked at it, it definitely didn't give her the right to treat Aretha shabbily. She had never liked Aretha, not even when Aretha (who was a professional chef), regularly made her sumptuous food to eat, and would drive to the other side of town to give it to her. Now she had passed, she dared to mock her- even in death?

I shook my head and released a sigh that helped calm my erratic heart beat.

I didn't want to be rude to her but I couldn't stand her attitude any longer. Even after sending word to her about Aretha's passing, she had not come, neither had she called to commiserate with me. Not one time.

What kind of mother was that?

A knock sounded off, cutting off my angry thoughts. The door to my office opened, and Kelly walked in. There was a look on her face I couldn't place. She wove something in the air and it took some seconds for me to realize it was a letter.

"This just came by courier. It has the stamp of the DEA on it."

She placed it on my desk and all I could do was stare at it. They didn't send a mail or place a call after all. They did it the old-fashioned way - by letter.

After a few seconds of staring dumbly at it, I lifted it, the same way one would, precious stones. I've never used glasses before, but suddenly it seemed difficult for me to read what had been boldly emblazoned on the front.

At least, I was able to make out a long slip of paper snugly fitted inside.

"That's right, keep staring at it and it just might open itself." Kelly drawled from in front of me.

I had completely forgotten she was still standing there.

Without wasting anymore time, I took a hold of the paper knife and slowly opened up the edges of the letter. This time, I was clearly able to see the logo of the DEA at the top left.

I skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the body of the letter.

It is with great thought I....... this letter ..... in all honesty, I had known...... beginning......that .......Exceva .......the one. When we first talked......the phone..... your passion .......and I........

I cut off all the unnecessary information and jumped to the end.

A big congratulations, Mr. Moore, The Department of Justice's drive enforcement administration hereby endorses Exceva. . .

My mouth fell open and the letter slipped from my hands.

Kelly was beside me in some seconds. "What's wrong?"

She picked the letter from where it had fluttered to the floor and began to read from the beginning.

It is with great thought I type this letter to you. In all honesty, I had known from the beginning that Exceva was the one. When we first talked on the phone, your passion and drive were palpable to me. You almost bunched it up when you walked into your boardroom looking like you had just stepped out from a whorehouse-

"Wait! Is he allowed to type this? Kelly looked at me with wide eyes.

I couldn't reply. I was too much in shock at that point. She shook her head and continued reading.

. . . But then I saw on the news about the passing of your wife, and I understood clearly what you were going through. Accept my condolences once again. So back to the matter at hand, without further ado, the department of Justice's drug administration hereby endorsed Exceva as a cure for killing cancer cells in the early stage. A big congratulations, Mr. Moore, you did it.

Kelly looked at me with eyes that had gone big and round. Her mouth opened up in a wide smile and then she hollered, pumping her fist in the air. "Yes. Yes! You did it. Exceva is live!"

My initial shock gave way and I was finally caught up in the excitement pouring out from her. "Fifteen years, and now it's finally here." I smiled widely.

"This calls for a celebration." She turned to me, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "And I know just what to use."

She flounced off and returned a few minutes later, smiling from ear to ear with one hand behind her back. She stopped in front of my desk and within a jiffy of an eye, whipped a bottle out from behind her back.

"Champagne, for this momentous occasion." She announced it like she was the MC of an event.

She popped it open and the cork flew off and landed somewhere on the floor. She took out two flute glasses from my cabinet and poured a healthy amount into each one. We cheered and I took a sip of the bubbly drink.

We did it, Aretha, baby, this is for us.

I smiled against the rim of my glass.

"Congratulations, once again, Alex. I never doubted you could do it. You are my hero." She smiled coyly. She traced the rim of the glass with her fingers and then slowly dropped it on my desk, all the while maintaining eye contact.

As she walked towards me, a glint entered her eyes. She stopped within an inch of me and I waited, waited for her to make a move so I could show her I was interested in no one but Aretha.

Her hand lifted in the air, settled on the back of my collar and I froze. Turned into a complete icicle. I closed my eyes, swallowed hard and opened them again, only to see her face had moved closer.

The invisible bonds that bound me, loosened.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I removed her hand from around my neck and side stepped her. "'I've got to get to the lab. Exceva needs me now."

With that admission, I walked off, leaving her drilling holes in my back.