As I made my way to the room the hallway smelled like floor cleaner, stale coffee, and wet clothes from the rain outside . The old light bulbs that hung from the ceiling kept on buzzing and blinking against the dirty wall.
I was sitting on a wooden bench, just waiting for my mom to finish up with some property papers in Room 204. She had been in there a couple of hours, I was getting bored, so I brought out my phone and started doomscrolling through my social media one after the other.
While going through my phone, a couple came and stopped right in front of where I was sitting. The guy was wearing a dark suit that was looking as though he just got it, he probably must have cut the tags off before coming in. The lady by his side was putting on a simple cream dress, she had her hair all packed to the back using some silver clips. She was holding some small flowers wrapped in green paper that looked like she got them from a grocery store.
“Excuse me,” the guy said. He was sounding kind of nervous, like his heart was beating really fast. “Uhm, are you busy? Can you give us five minutes, please?”
I looked away from my phone and raised my head up.
“I’m waiting for my mom.”
“We really need a witness,” the woman said as she leaned forward a bit. Her face was a bit red. “The thing is our friend was supposed to come by nine, but unfortunately his car broke down on the road. They are saying they won’t let us sign the papers without two signatures, and if we miss our turn today we have to wait till next month.”
She looked really unhappy about the whole situation, but trying her best not to make a scene.
“Sure,” I said as I stood up from the bench. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I can help you with that.”
The three of us went inside a small room that had no windows. Inside the room we met the official, Mr. Miller, sitting behind a table full of papers. The place wasn’t really looking like somewhere you’d want to hold a wedding at all. At corner I could hear a metal cabinet over there humming, looking at the wall behind the official was an older poster about rules.
The whole thing didn’t even take up to two minutes. Miller just bread out the words from a card in a casual voice, like one of those things he does everyday. The couple held hands so tight it was as if they were turning white. When he said, “You may kiss,” they kissed so passionately, and embraced themselves. It was really beautiful.
I wrote down my name—Clinton Efe—on the second line for witnesses right beside the clerk’s own, gave them back the pen, and gave a slight smile.
“Congratulations,” I told them.
The woman gave me a quick, tight hug that smelled like lavender. “Thank you so so much, honestly. You really saved us today.”
The man grabbed my right hand with both his hands and shook it twice.
“We’re Marcus and Sandra, by the way. I’m Marcus.”
“Clinton,” I said back.
They both walked out together holding hands and went down the stairs into the drizzling rain outside. My mom came out from Room 204 about five minutes after that. I didn’t even tell her what happened on our way back home. To me, it was just one random thing that happened on a normal Tuesday.
Fast forward seven years later.
I had moved to different places, changed my job, and moved on with life. That whole court thing had completely left my head, forgotten somewhere under years of daily routine.Then came one day in February. I stopped by at a Supermarket to get some groceries. After getting all the stuff I needed, I headed to the counter to make payment. While at the counter, I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. When I turned back, a lady was standing beside me smiling. Her face looked very familiar.
“Hello, Clinton. I just wanted to be sure if it was you. You probably don’t remember me.”
“I’m really sorry ma, could you please remind me?”
“It’s Sandra. You helped my husband and I serve as a—“
“Witness!” I cut right in before she could finish her sentence. “I remember now. Wow. What a small world. How’s Marcus?”
“He’s doing just great.”
While in the middle of our conversation, two little kids—a girl and a boy—with slight differences in age ran from behind her and took hold of her hands.
“Mommy, mommy, I want chocolates!” they both screamed in turns.
“Wow, those must be your kids,” I said.“Yes. This is Mandy and this is Clinton. I named him after you,” she said.
“Aww…that’s really lovely,” I said with my right hand on my chest, expressing how touched I was.
“I’m still much grateful for that day. I can never forget the favour you did for me and Marcus,” she continued.
“Oh, please. It’s really nothing. Just glad I could help.”
We talked for a few more minutes and waved me goodbye as she went on with her kids to fulfil their needs. I turned back to the lady at the counter and paid my bills.
While I road back home, I drove with a smile on my face. I couldn’t forget the happiness on her face. I felt proud of myself, like I had really done some great good in the lives of those two. The feeling was priceless.
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