It’s dark when I wake up, with an empty bottle of red wine in my hand, ever since I lost the debate, I have found solace in the bottom of bottles. I didn’t have a preference as long as it’s the ability to make me forget that years of me scrapping to the top had vanished overnight. I would laugh if it didn’t feel like my brain was being repeatedly thrown against a brick wall. I look at my phone the notifications are littered with news alerts regarding the riots that have broken out all over the city in my name. A total of four people have died. I don’t know whether I should be disgusted or relived that there are people willing to fight for all the things that I believed in…the right things.
I roll of the sofa falling not so elegantly onto the floor – my hand landing in the remains of my chicken chow-mien. I pull myself up and make my way into the kitchen, I run some water and drink straight from the tap. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Opening the fridge I grab another bottle of wine and some left over cheesecake that may or may not have passed it’s expiration date. I go back to my spot on the sofa and turn on the television. I instantly regret because the man that cost me everything is on my screen – with his kilowatt smile. My grab tightens around my bottle of wine as he decrees the bring about a change that no country as however seen before. He tells members of this great nation, the nation that I gave my blood sweat and tears for – that joy has finally come. They’re lapping up every single word of it – and yet all I know is that promises are a comfort to a fool. ITV news correspondent Maxine Graham ask if he has any words for me, he pauses, I turn up my television and lean forward – my heart suddenly racing at what he could possibly say. “Respectfully ma’am, I’d rather not dwell on the past as I know we can all look forward to a brighter future.”
A scream erupts from my mouth so loud and full of rage I am surprised it came from me. In my rage I throw the remote at the television, causing it to crack and the image of YR’s smug face to disappear. I pace up and down in my apartment contemplating how this could have possibly happened. Up until a week ago I was the my immigrants parent’s dream and now… My phone rings, I let it go to voicemail so I can wallow and pace in peace. It rings again and again – each time more insistent than the last. ‘If this is another reporter, I have nothing to say about this alleged victory?’ ‘I’m not a reporter.’ Comes the unknown gravely voice – everything in me tells me that I should end the call and go back to hiding from the world and yet I felt compelled to listen. ‘Who are you then?’ I ask not to sure why I was whispering ‘A friend, a supporter, someone that thinks you were robbed.’ They replied and it was all very ominous. I know I should hang up but at this point I have reached the point of no return and hit rock bottom. Everyone who I thought was a friend had disappeared – claiming my true colours had been exposed for the world to see. I need a friend, I need support, I need vindication. I was desperate. ‘Go on, I am listening’ ‘There’s a group of us, we’re small in numbers but have connections with the right kind of people?’ ‘The right kind of people?’ ‘The kind of people that are willing to go to make that wrongs are made right…you dear were wronged’.
I zoned out for a few moments unbelieving that this conversation was actually happening. One million thoughts were racing through my head at the speed of light. Had I not answered the call would have they kept trying to contact me? Would they have come to find me, it wouldn’t be hard now that I was a disgraced regular citizen. ‘Are you still there?’ ‘Yes, yes…sorry, I was just thinking…’ I say.
‘Ah yes those awful riots…leave a lot to be desired, many communities have been torn apart’ ‘Yes, it’s been…’ I trail of as the cogs in my brain start to go into overdrive turning me from drunk and incoherent to sober in a matter of seconds. ‘…that, that was you?’ ‘Yes’ they chuckle ‘Some of our finest work to date, you see we have common interest you and I but with you out of office those interest are threatened’ ‘People died’ ‘Oh come now – we know all about you Madame Prime Minister…and the things that you have done and have been willing to do’ ‘Who is this?’ ‘Like I said, I am friend and as your friend I am willing to help you and from what I you’re short on those’.
The House of Reggie’s Tv Show Season 3 Trailer:
Written By:
Michelle Yeboah