When Rhoda arrived at the coffee shop, it was a few minutes to11pm.Charles was already there seated on one of the tables beside the window looking out into the street.He was fiddling distractedly with his necktie and inspite of the austere winter, large beads of sweat had formed on his brow and were coalescing to form slow running streams tracing the creases on his face. There were only a couple of other people in the small shop; one of them was a young man who was nodding off at the far end of the shop and the other was an elderly man who seemed to be talking to either himself or his raised coffee mug. Either way, it did not leave her convinced of his sanity. She sat down opposite him, without taking off her thick fur coat.

"I thought you were on call this night" she inquired

Charles ignored her and continued looking out the window

"Talk to me" she pleaded

" I couldn't concentrate so I left the hospital" he finally replied still staring blankly outside.

" So, is there someone covering for you?" She inquired .

He remained mute. Rhodas long sigh coincided with the cafe clocks chime indicating the top of the hour. He finally turned to her, his eyes murky, like the sky before an impending downpour. "Whatever it is I have done Rhoda, I am sorry"

"How many times do I have to tell you that this is not about you" she blurted out , making no attempt at concealing her growing irritation.

"Ok, I m sorry" he offered, apologising for his apparently misplaced contrition.

"Look, Charles, I have made up my mind, I know you don't want to go back to NIgeria, but I want to, I really do. Please respect that"

"But why?" He queried feverishly, his whole frame vibrating with bewilderment. " Everything is working out so well for us here. I am already midway through residency and you are just rounding up your masters with the world at your feet here. Not everyone graduates from Harvard Rhoda, Harvard!"

"I know Charles, but I have explained..."

"Don't tell me that nonsense about that idiot that gave that lecture. All that nationalistic crap sounds very noble and gallant all the way out here, but back home, it's wild and it's not for people like you. Can't you get that into your head?" He screamed.

The waitress glanced sharply in their direction and then looked away quickly. The young man nodding off was startled back to wakefulness and only the old man still deep in his animated converation with his inanimate neighbours was not jolted by the Charles loud outburst. Rhoda felt paralyzed by his venom impregnated verbal missiles. She stared at him for a full minute with an expression of deep hurt and then stood up to leave.

"Please Rhoda, wait.." he stood up and grabbed her arm..

"Charles Attah" she screamed. "Get your hands off me".

This time, even the crazy old man turned to watch them as she stormed out of the cafe.

Nice story, keep it up

@Becalina-thanks, I will.

As Rhoda lay in bed that night, she considered the events of the past month. She had had her undergraduate and now, masters training at Harvard and had both times been top of her class. Charles was right, the world was at her feet. She had received so many lucrative offers of employment in the weeks leading up to her conclusion of the masters programme that she was truly spoilt for choice. On paper, all was as rosy as could possibly be.

But she felt empty, drained of passion. She felt like a soulless marionette whose strings were pulled this way and that in an involuntary enactment that limpressed the audience but left her feeling used and unfulfilled. Charles had everything planned out for them; a practical and sensible future; a life in the states with high income jobs,a luxury apartment they would own,great kids-2 of them, Michael and Patricia-a fantastic retirement plan, everything. Instead of surfing on waves of excitement listening to these plans, she felt numb. It wasn't that she didn't love Charles, but it seemed he had become the symbol of insipidty that she so dreaded in her life.

Her phone ringing cut into her thoughts. Sure enough it was Charles. She switched it off and tossed it carelessly beside her pillow.

She allowed her thoughts drift back to the public lecture at Harvard that had set her on this path. She hadn't wanted to go but had just decided to go out of boredom. But midway through, she could hardly remain on her seat. It was the most stimulating talk she had ever listened to. She followed events back in Nigeria fairly regularly but She had never heard of the speaker, Dr Hassan before. He was a small man with a disproportionately loud voice that seemed a more than adequate compensation for his unimpressive frame. He initially began his speech with the composure that was fitting for an academic presentation but midway through the presentation, he abandoned all semblance of serenity and was darting all over the stage in a frenzy that made him seem like an overexcited Pentecostal pastor in the middle of a sermon. Such was the fury with which he spoke, that Rhoda was afraid he would be thought mad and security would be called to arrest him. He spoke so passionately about the state of decay in the country while pointing his fingers accusingly at the audience that one was won't to think his audience was responsible for Nigeria's woes.

"I pray that the next generation of young Nigerian journalists would take up the exciting and daunting challenge of saving our country or at least, what's left of it". It was strange that the only the last sentence of his fiery presentation actually directly adressed the topic of his presentation which was "the role of young journalists in Nigerias future", but to Rhoda, that was all she needed. It was more than enough. At the end she was the first on her feet in applause and whether others joined her out of politeness or because they were as moved as she was, she did not care. She had found a reason to be alive once more. Her very core quivered with anticipation. She tried to find him a few minutes after the presentation ended but was told he had left quickly to catch a flight. It didn't matter. He had rekindled the smoldering embers within her. She knew she had to go back home.

"Charles you wont believe what happened today..". She got the distinct feeling from the way Charles looked her during her excited narration that Charles didn't think her being so agitated was going to do her any good, and so she wasn't surprised when he told her he was it was all very nice, but he needed to go to sleep.

Her mind had already been made up.