I knew that during my period of depression when I had not been fit to be seen in public, I had not only been of no help to Chris’s career, but had actually been a hindrance to it.
So, now that that was behind me, I felt obliged to make it up to him by supporting him in any way I could. Since that meant accompanying him out into the public eye, that is what I resolved to do, even if it meant having C.G tag along. Initially, I reserved our outings to daytime excursions, accompanying Chris to meet workmates and sponsors during the week, and heading to various beaches and parks over the weekend.
The official trips proved to be the most complicated, as C.G, like any other baby, tended to get restless and irritable rather quickly I had to keep walking out with him in the middle of discussions that he was disrupting.
Although these interruptions no doubt irritated the “money men” we were meeting, they were at the same time pleasantly surprised and moved by what they perceived to be Chris’ g attachment to his family, and so more often than not, we would leave such meetings with a signed cheque or a booking for a performance.
The weekend trips, on the other hand, were dedicated to us as a family, but although no business was discussed during them, they were still designed to promote Chris’ career as he always picked out venues where there would be lots of people, thereby increasing the chances of us being spotted by some lone journalist who would be quick to stealthily take a few pictures of us that would inevitably end up in the press.
Buoyed by the positive impact these outings were having on his career, it was not long before Chris began to want even more from his recently re-introduced press presence. He stopped being satisfied with a picture and small caption appearing an average of around once a week, and began to insist that we attend more major functions together.
Unfortunately, all the really big “must-be-seen at” events tended to take place later in the evenings, and although I had been alright with packing the car boot full of an assortment of C.G’s stuff ranging from toys in case he got bored, to extra clothing and even shawls and blankets in case he got chilly or sleepy, and carting C.G off to different spots during the day, I was not equally comfortable with taking him out in the evenings.
“Come on, Steph, it’s not like you’ll be keeping him out till late at night past his normal bedtime all I’m asking is that we be seen there, have a couple of pictures taken backstage and then leave. If I’ve got to stay on, I’ll get C.G and you a cab back whenever you want to leave,” Chris argued when I opposed his suggestion that we all attend the Miss Uganda final.
“But the weather is so unpredictable these days, it will probably be freezing, and he’ll end up catching a cold,” I argued back.
“No, he won’t, we’ll get him all bundled up warmly, and like I said, we won’t stay long an hour at the most. Surely, you can give me an hour do it for us,” he pleaded.
“How about the fact that there will be drunk guys smoking all sorts of stuff backstage? Honestly Chris, I really don’t think it’s safe for him.”
“You know I would never endanger C.G or you. All that crazy action begins much later on, and you’ll both be home in bed by then,” he promised.
Out of arguments, but still feeling rather unsettled about the whole idea, I reluctantly caved in “Fine, we’ll come, but only for an hour at the very most!”
“That’s all I’m asking for – an hour tops,” he agreed enthusiastically, and then went on confidently “You won’t regret this, honey, just you wait and see. We’ll be the talk of the event, and everyone out there will finally know I’m well and truly back on the scene. Once they get that message, the money will come rolling in.”
Source : The Observer