The Restorer 3
Written by Jennifer Azubuike Martha scanned the room again from her seating position on the ground, as if seeing it for the first time. Dr Drei always made her sit there during her treatment session for reasons best known to him. Her eyes rested on the middle-aged man carefully scribbling something down at his desk. She was becoming impatient with him, maybe a little resentful too, but she could not complain. “You owe me 30 dineries” Dr Drei finally paused his scribbling and looked at her. Martha’s jaw dropped open. “I paid you 100 decca, and you promised that would be the cost of everything, including room and board.” “Yes, but I consulted another physician and had to pay him 30 dineries for consultation. That wasn’t planned, so it has to be refunded.” “I don’t have any more money to give you. Besides, you promised me a cure, and that hasn’t happened.” “What do you think I have been doing? Dancing? Wasn’t the consultation part of finding you a cure? Woman! Pay me or I will stop your treatment.” Martha hissed and got up from where she had been sitting. She carefully touched her backside to make sure it wasn’t wet, then she inspected the mat she had been sitting on, and there was no stain, to her relief. “I have had enough of your shenanigans.” “My shenanigans?” Dr Drei said with an inflection in his voice. “You call my medical practice a shenanigan?” He asked again and laughed. “Alright, at least I am not the one going around bleeding and stinking.” He hissed maliciously. He knew his words would sting, and they did, as Martha was left speechless and on the verge of tears when those words left his mouth. He was unapologetic; instead, he waved her off to depart from his office, which also served as his home. Martha walked out and shut the door behind her. She stood in front of the house, her eyes shimmering with tears as she wondered what she’d do. She had traveled over 100 miles from her hometown to this place with the last of her money because Dr. Drei was highly recommended. Even though she had spent most of her fortune, at least she had some money when she first arrived four months ago. “I will heal you in no time!” She remembered him saying. “You have reached your final stop for a cure!” He swore. “They are all liars,” Martha hissed. “And he is the chief of them.” She wiped her cheek. It was then that she noticed a young child staring and holding his nose, disgusted. “Ma’am, did you fart?” The young boy asked Martha, still holding his nostrils. Before Martha could reply to him, a woman walked up to the boy and pulled him away. Martha immediately became self-conscious again. She had been so angry that she forgot she had stepped outside in broad daylight – something she never does. She walked back to Dr. Drei’s door and knocked. “What do you want?” His brash response came from behind a slightly opened door. “Can I stay until nighttime? I promise I will leave as soon as the sun sets.” She begged. “Do you have my money?” “I don’t have any more money.” “Then you cannot come in.” Dr. Drei said with finality and slammed the door in her face. A few moments later, someone reopened the door and threw a small bag out to Martha, spilling some of the clothes it contained. Martha bent over to pick up the clothes. As she did, she could feel blood flow out of her onto the towel she used for padding. She quietly prayed the towel would hold on until she found a private place to change. As she straightened up from picking up the clothes, her gaze met those of three women in the shade of a food store across the street, staring. They quickly looked away and went about their business. Martha tucked the clothes into her bag, slipped the bag under her armpit, and started her journey slowly down the street. At this point, she was accustomed to people staring, moving away, or making disdainful gestures – most of the time, she ignored them, but something about the gaze of these women haunted her. She used to hold the gaze of young women for her beauty and affluence, as well as the admiration of young men. Now, she is pitiful and, worst still, despised; they must think she was a woman being punished by God for some awful deed. For adultery, waywardness, or something worse. Martha shook her head if they only knew that a few years ago, she was just like them: beautiful, chaste, wealthy, and by all measures desirable. As a young girl, her father owned a women’s clothing store. She helped organize and clean the store whenever new stock arrived. Over time, she picked up on the trade even though her father didn’t allow her to make sales. He was convinced that his business was masculine and that women should not be involved with it. Things changed during her cousin’s wedding when she helped her choose bridal colors and assisted her in matching them. Her family saw her aptitude for colors and consulted her on the next event. Gradually, word spread to friends, extended family, and neighbors. Martha’s father saw a business opportunity and seized it, leading to the expansion of his existing business. Martha was consulted on bridal arrangements and colors, and her father supplied the requested materials. Word-of-mouth recommendations expanded her reach, and eventually, Martha was traveling across cities to help set up weddings. Her father eventually handed over the clothing business to Martha, which she transformed into an empire of wedding decor. * * * Martha arrived at a less busy but poorer side of town,
