21stcenturybelle – Page 4 – 21stcenturybelle

The Dice#23

“Why is such a beautiful, accomplished woman like yourself still single?Don’t tell me all the eligible guys in Lagos are blind.” Tade teased.
Dunni had always detested people who referred to her looks. She often argued that people rarely refereed to a guy’s looks in discussions but more to their accomplishments. She was vocal in pointing that out to whoever cared to listen. Tonight, this was not the case, she strangely latched onto his every word and turned mushy all inside.

The last couple of months had been all that she could dream of. Tade was attentive and kind, and they found time amidst their busy schedules to be together. It was customary to wake up on weekends and drive to his place, where they met without Toni. He rarely talked about himself, and that was one aspect that bothered her a lot. She would talk her head off about her family. Still, when she asked about his family, he grunted intelligible words or found a way to talk about something else. She knew he had a twin sister who was married and lived in the states.

“I could say the same, why a handsome, incredibly wealthy medical doctor, despite being a widower, has not to be snapped up by the Abuja sharks and Lagos cougars.”
She loved the sound of his laughter, deep like the waves of the ocean, a low sound building up to a crescendo and filling the space between them.

“You make me sound like a slice of meat on the market.”
“Unfortunately, I think that’s the truth. Take a slow turn to your left, my right. There is this woman about your age sitting with a guy in a white kaftan whose been stealing looks at you since we came in. I feel so sorry for her companion.”

Tade snapped for a waiter and discreetly looked in the direction Dunni had pointed.
“That’s Made Brown, the chairman of the board of directors at Lekki Consultant Hospital.”
Your hospital? She asked, eyebrow raised in question. “She looks young.”
“Being born into a pool of trust funds from your great-grandparents has perks.” Tade laughed, but it was a little bit tight this time, “please excuse me. I need to say hi.”

Dunni sipped on her glass of wine while she looked around. The Oceanview was one of the highbrow restaurants on Victoria Island, and a meal here could probably buy her house. How does someone in the medical profession afford such a lifestyle? She should be asking those questions, but she’d never broached the subject for some reason. Maybe because she also had money that she worked for and was not handed down to her, so why should someone else’s source of wealth be scrutinised by her. She rationalised, and Tade’s could have been handed down to him.

She had to know. It’s not like she was a social climber or gold digger; after all, she could afford a reasonable lifestyle on her own. It is not like Tade moved in this circle. However, his clients appear to waltz in and out of the corridors of power, the creme de la cream of Lagos and Abuja society, old money, new money, and the political and ruling elite.

Who is Tade Braithwaite? She shrugged. With time she’ll get to know all she needs to know. You never approached your client without digging into who they were. The voice in her head chastised her.
It sounded too intrusive doing that to someone close. Where is trust? She argued. In business, you want to know all the possibilities that could come up. You were prepared not to be blindsided. Matters of the heart were vastly different from the cold calculation of money and service-changing hands.

Dunni had no idea. Tade had been sitting before her for a couple of minutes until he snapped a finger in her face.
“Where’ve you been. Dunni managed a small laugh.
“Nowhere. No idea I had zoned out. How is Made?”
“She should be okay as long as she keeps out of my affairs.”
Dunni could see the rigid set of his jaw. He looked displeased but tried to hide it. She wanted to know more about this Made that seemed to upset him and his background.

The food came, and they delved into the sumptuous meal of mashed yam with spicy fish sauce and grilled lamb chops. All her questions were pushed to the back seat of her priorities.
“This is exquisite. I did not know what to expect. Dunni closed her eyes, savouring the mashed yam’s softness and the spicy sauce’s sweetness.
Tade inhaled sharply, and he wanted to kiss those lips. No human should look this sexy over a simple meal.
Dunni opened her eyes like a daffodil in the morning sun. “What, she asked, mouth opened, oblivious to what she was doing to Tade?”
Tade let out a soft growl. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?
“Nothing. I am not sure how long I can keep away from you.”
“Are you travelling somewhere?”
“No. I am not thinking of it, but would you mind a weekend trip to Idara Resort in Calabar?”
“Too tempting, but I have got so much work this weekend.”
“You work so hard. Do your partners ever consider a lighter load for a woman?”
“Is work about gender or capability?” Dunni asked, mustering all the self-control she could. One thing she could not stand was a reference to her gender when it came to working. Working with Ola and Moses must have blinded her to the sexism out there.

“I am sorry, Dunni. I did not mean it that way, and I was looking for more time to spend with you.” He took her hands over the table, looking into the depths of her liquid brown eyes.
“You do so much to me, and I never thought I could feel this way again.”
Dunni smiled. It felt good to be desired, but she wanted more. She wanted him to fall head over heels in love with her. She wanted him to ask her to marry him. Dunni knew she said she’d go with the flow, but she wanted to become Mrs Braithwaite.
“I love you, Dunni.”
Before she could respond, Tade was on one knee, just like how he was the day she fell in the superstore a few months ago.
He had this beautiful ring with a diamond solitaire in a blue ring box. She knew it was a diamond with many colours reflecting in the light.

Was this man telepathic? How could he know the two questions in her heart just now? She loved Tade and had questions that needed answers but could wait.
Dunni hated Tade’s Tarzan and the damsel in distress moves but also liked how he looked out for her and how she’d become the centre of his universe along with his daughter. Here was a man who had suffered so much loss and was still willing to put out his heart, and it only made her melt for him.

“Yes, yes, I will marry you.” She imagined Moses’s disapproving look and dismissed it immediately.
Tade slipped the ring into her left middle finger. He cupped her perfectly sculptured round face in his hands. “I promise always to make you happy.” Dunni could not be happier as she gazed into his eyes and lips, wondering if there would be any magic if he decided to kiss her. Dunni had never been kissed, and Benji’s sloppy kisses in university days indeed cannot be counted. She still gagged from the horror of swapping saliva.

“Promise me you won’t hurt us – Toni and me.”

“I promise,” Dunni assured solemnly like she was taking a vow. She was not someone who took promises lightly, and she knew she would stand by her words through rain or sunshine.

Tonight was her night. She could read the question and hesitance in his eyes. She moved closer to him, bidding him kiss her, oblivious to all the others in the restaurant. They were just in their world. The fire sparks and tingles on her feet were none like she had imagined. The kiss was slow yet demanding, simultaneously sensual and chaste but with promise. They probably would not have stopped without the flash of a camera.

“What was that?” Dunni asked, more shaken from the emotions she felt than from the surge of flashes from the camera.
Tade swore, “let’s get out of here.”
Dunni did not fail to see the death glare Tade directed at Made on their way out.
How could such a beautiful moment be abruptly broken?
She knew enough body language that all was not well, and her 15 minutes of romance was just a commercial interlude on reality highway.

Dunni loved the feel of Tade’s hand around hers as he marched out of the restaurant like a man on a deadly mission. They were intercepted by the restaurant manager rushing out to apologise. At the same time, two huge 6 feet 3 inches men led the cameramen out of the premises.
“We will credit your account with us as compensation for the unfortunate disturbance,” the distressed man offered.

Who is Tade? Too many questions were racing through her head and now did not seem the appropriate time to ask. He was like a totally different person after the flashes of the camera. Suddenly there was this air of someone accustomed to wealth and influence around him. Had this always been there, or was Dunni only noticing it.

The Dice#22

Molade’s digging into Dunni’s background leads her on a journey of her past.

Jamiu had been her driver since she turned sixteen and stayed with her all through the years; He was more like family to her. She had built a house for him and sent all his children to school. They were all graduates of the prestigious University of Lagos.

She also helped secure jobs in their different disciplines across her companies. Jamiu was more than a driver. He was a father to her too. And while he was her driver for the world, she held him in high esteem and accorded him the respect of an elder. Her friends’ marvelled that he’s been with her for over three decades and think he is lucky to still have a job. Molade considered herself the lucky one that he was still with her; she could not trust anyone like the way she trusted Jamiu. The man will take a bullet for her, which was no exaggeration.

“No, thank you. I will do this on my own.”

Molade came down from the car and walked towards the hospital entrance to join the long queue of patients waiting to see the Doctor.

“Madam, seti gba card? A woman with a toddler resting on her hips asked and began directing her where she had to get the card, explaining that she won’t be attended to without one. Molade saw her personal physician every month by appointment and was not familiar with such protocols. She graciously accepted the kind woman’s direction and went to register for a card.

When asked for her address, Molade had to rattle her brain to give an Ibadan address as she did not want to give her actual address. She also registered under a pseudonym, Bimpe Jimoh, which sounded like a regular enough name.

The young lady at the registration looked at her and asked what she wanted to see the Doctor for. She stated that she did not look like someone was sick, and the Doctor was very busy and only attended to sick people. Molade grimaced and swallowed the nasty comment she wanted to belt out. They do have a lot of people with unsolicited opinions in this place. She nodded in understanding, not trusting herself enough not to say something that would make the girl decline to issue her card or stop her from seeing the Doctor. After all, she had no idea who was standing before her. Lagos shook at Molade’s presence, and this mouthy little know-it-all ordered her like she was her errand girl.

Molade sat in the waiting room for over four hours until it was finally her turn to see Dr Braithwaite.

Coming here was not the best of ideas, but she needed his immediate family to know he had left behind two children. The question they would be asking is, why now? It was finally time to let her kids know who their father’s family was; if she was accepted by the family, she would let the children meet their uncle. Lekan was the sensible one of the lot. Thirty-four years was too long, but it was better late than never. She recalled the last time she saw her three-month-old husband, Lanre when he walked out on her.

It was no news that Molade’s family had not approved of Lanre and even accused him of being a gold digger. So when Lanre requested a loan to build a hospital, she panicked and blatantly refused to loan Lanre the money. It was her way of protecting him and preventing her family from saying, ‘I told you so.‘

It was her way of pushing him to succeed on his own merit without assistance from her or her family. Molade needed him to do that so she could return to her father and be the one to say, ‘I told you so.‘

She did, but she lost him in the end. She lost him before she finally lost him forever, and death was faster than her forgiveness.

Bimpe Jimoh! Bimpe Jimoh!! Bimpe Jimoh!!! It took her a fraction of a minute to realise she was the Bimpe Jimoh being called. She picked up her bag and stood up to go into the Doctor’s office. It was now or never. It was not that she had not tried to reach the Lanre before. The first was when she realised she was pregnant after he left. She was told he had travelled out of the country, the next time was over 25 years ago, but she was told he was dead. Yes, that was what her father told her when she insisted they reach out to him to let him know of the children. He had the right to know he had two kids; she argued until her dad gave in and returned with the news that shattered her completely. She picked the pieces of her life and faced her business and her children.

Molade convinced herself she was doing the right thing. She owed her children the opportunity of meeting and get to know their father’s family. Dr Lekan will be the bridge to making that happen. She let herself in, and nothing prepared her for the sight she encountered on entering the office. Molade stared in shock and disbelief, unable to utter any word.

The flow of questions fluttered in her head, she could hear the screams in her head, but silence in the space she shared with this stranger who looked so familiar. Was she hallucinating? Was she going mad, or was she dead? Molade felt suddenly tired as she succumbed to the darkness that enveloped her.

The Dice#21

Clad in a simple leaf-patterned navy blue and white kaftan made with the traditional adire fabric. Molade appeared to be watching the cars that sped by as they drove along the Ibadan – Lagos expressway. She was lost in thoughts to another time when she made a similar trip. The road was not this terrible. Those were the days when it took you just a little over an hour to get to Ibadan from Lagos. Like this journey, she was driven by the same driver, Jamiu, who has been her personal driver from her teenage years to her adult life. Her brows creased in deep thoughts as they made their way to the ancient city. She could count the number of times she had a reason to come this way despite its proximity to Lagos.
Molade was jolted from her reverie as the car turned off the main road onto a muddy road meandering around deep potholes that laced the road. She jerked forward but for the seat belt that held her from hitting her face against the headrest of the front passenger seat.
“Sorry, madam,” Jamiu apologised.
She waved him off, knowing that it was not his fault.
It probably will cost the government little or nothing to get the road adequately fixed. Molade looked around, taking in her surroundings. At the same time, she wondered if her findings today will reveal her fears ever since she saw the document this morning.
The driver slowed the jeep down beside a woman roasting fresh corn for sale to ask for direction. He was about to drive off when Molade passed him a few thousand naira notes to give to the woman. She was beside herself with joy and rushed to wrap a few of the already roasted corn in newspaper to give to them. Jamiu declined and drove off, watching the room in his rearview mirror as she swirled and moved from side to side, dancing with joy. The money would cover her sale for the day and, if not more.
Jamiu brought the car came to a halt in front of what looked like a hospital. Molade gazed at the small-sized building with its white paint turned grey peeling off, a few broken glass windows replaced with wood. She could see the queue of people spilling to the hospital entrance, leaving her wondering what a weekday would be like if the weekend was this busy.
“Do you want me to go in for you?” Jamiu asked.
Molade managed a small smile. Jamiu uncannily knew her so well, but why wouldn’t he|? He’d known her all her life.

The Dice#20b

It was a rainy Saturday morning. The rich smell of Arabian coffee filled Molade’s study as she momentarily gazed at the rain pelting down the glass windows and enjoying the rhythm of the sound of each drop on the roof.

She loved the rainy season, the smell of the earth filling her senses, the promise of newness that came with it as the plants sprouted from the soil.

While others looked for safety and scurried for shelter from the rains, she loved the feel of its drops on her face. It reminded her of her childhood. One of her favourite past times was playing in the rain.

Molade remembered getting into trouble more times than she could count during the rainy season as she could not help but succumb to the temptation of dancing in the rain. The sheer joy and feeling of abandonment always brought a smile to her face. Indeed she was too old to do so now but always could not help the feelings of nostalgia the season brought with it.

The days of being wild and free, eagerly embracing the consequences of her disobedience. Sometimes she caught a cold from her careless act, but this never deterred her the next time the heavens opened and poured down its tears to the earth. She liked to think of the rains as heaven pouring out its blessings on the earth.

Drinking the hot coffee that would scald the tongues of others but was just right for her, she read the dossier containing information about Adunni Adesida.

She stared at the picture and could see why her son would fall for the drop-dead gorgeous beauty and talented architect. She was not surprised to find that the girl finished top of her class although at a local university within the country’s middle belt. Adjusting her glasses, she read through papers of information. Information about people was easily collected in this part of the country. Still, if asked by the individuals for their personal use, this same information would be an arduous task to gather.

Adunni grew up in Ibadan. She attended one of the country’s unity colleges, served in Lagos and worked in a top architecture firm before joining two other classmates to set up their own firm. The girl had taken on some laudable projects; she must say, Molade thought to herself.

Her father was late, her mother was still lived in Ibadan. She was the last of five children and had a sibling in the senate. They were not from old or new money but appeared to be doing well in their fields.

As she worked down the report, a name caught her attention, Dr Lanre Braithwaite. The family doctor and the doctor that took delivery of the child. Goshen Medical Centre, Mokola, Ibadan.

Her mug, half full of coffee, fell from her hand, spilling its black liquid on the paper. She grabbed some tissue at the far end of the desk to clean off the liquid and spread the papers across the desk.

She scrutinised the document, checking and rechecking the dates, wondering if she was going crazy. Alas! It appears that somebody had been lying to her for over three decades. She had to know the truth.

She rang her driver, “prepare the Range Rover. We leave for Ibadan in an hour”.

The Dice#20a

“Who is she?”

Tade swallowed hard. Clenching and unclenching his fist.

“Who is she, Tade?”

“Who is who mum?” He knew who his mother was referring to but would rather play dumb.

“I hear there is a lady you’ve been seeing.”

He turned around, blowing air through his mouth. Not only was he exasperated, but his patience was also wearing thin. His mother had never approved of any girls he brought home in the past. She made it her life goal to make their lives miserable and scare them away from the Thomas fortune. She all but considered them social climbers and gold diggers. No one was good enough for her son. Sadly, mothers do not marry their sons and either willingly or begrudgingly must accept their sons’ choice. Solape was one tough cookie who stood by him and against his mother’s wish. Their love won, but in the end, he lost her to death. It was as if she had been proved right, and she did not fail to remind him at every opportunity she could.

“When I told you she was not for you, you would not listen. How does a young girl who is not even 30 die from cancer?”

“Mum, cancer is not an age-related sickness. People die from cancer, young, old, middle-aged and even babies.”

Molade Thomas rolled her eyes.

“She was not meant to be in this family. She was bad luck. In our history, people don’t die below 70. My grandmother was 90 when she died, my grandfather was 101, my great grandfather was 98 while his wife choices die at 106. You are the first widower in our lineage.”

“Mother, will you stop?” Did you come here to berate me on a death, we humanly could do nothing about. You should be happy I am healing and moving despite how hard it is. Solape is unforgettable.”

“Tade dear, I can’t hide my displeasure of your marriage to that girl and what her death has caused to our family. Do you know what is being said out there? That we sacrificed her.”

“Mother, why do you waste your time listening to an idle talk from people who have no job? Where do you get the time for gossip with the work you do managing the Thomas fortune?”

“I keep my ears to the ground. Information is power.”

“There was no winning with his mum.”

“So who is this girl? What’s her name, who are her parents? Does she know your family?”

“Mother! Stop!! She is just a friend. When and if it becomes more, you will be the last to know. Don’t for once think I am ignorant of all you did to the ladies before and including Solape. I forbid you from doing anything to make her uncomfortable, or I will disappear from your life, and this time for good. You will never see Toni or me again.”

If there was anything Molade learnt in business was when to retreat in a battle.

She smiled sadly. “All I do is for you. It is hard for people outside our circle to love you, you will be surprised to find out that you are only a means to their dreams – a ticket out of poverty and nothing else.”

Tade tugged at his beard. He’d been so bust lately and could not keep up with his daily shave so gave up and tried the look which Dunni did not mind.

“Not everything is about money. In case you have forgotten people rarely connect me to the Thomas fortune. There is a reason my surname is Braithwaite. I am tired and need a shower. Please let yourself out when you are done.”

Tade stopped midway and turned to look at his mum. There was a time when she meant the whole world to him. Molade Thomas was first his mother before transforming into this monster with no feelings, he could barely recognise. She thought everyone was out to get a piece of the Thomas fortune. No one was good enough for her. Her choice was Made, her best friends daughter, but the girl was a spoiled brat who refused to grow up. He wanted to do life with someone who had a semblance of normal, not some rich kid who could not even hold her toothbrush without being assisted by personal maids.

“Dunni is an architect and a partner at her firm. She is not interested in my money because she has no clue I am the son of the richest Black woman. So don’t go sending your goons to spook her. I have not asked her. However, I intend to and if she says yes. You will respect her and keep your distance if you can not love her like your daughter. I will not allow a repeat of what Solape suffered in your hands. I stayed in Nigeria because Solape kept hoping you will come around and love her. She wanted you to have that time and bond with Toni. That girl was an angel, someone you lost the of the opportunity to know. I hope you won’t make the same mistake with Dunni. Life is beyond money and business connections.”

He sighed and walked away. Dunni had to meet his mother at some point, but that would be long after she agreed to marry him . He was not going to let his mum jeopardise his second chance at love. Dunni was someone special. The bond between her and Toni was one he could only have imagined but never thought possible.

Molade Thomas smiled at Tade retreating figure. He could be in his mid-thirties, Chief Medical Officer at Lekki Consultant hospital, but he was first her child. If she gave in to all the threats thrown at her, she would not be who she is today. Many felt because she was born into the Thomas wealth, she had it all smooth. Life was not a bed of roses. She worked hard to be where she was today. Her father’s wealth and connection may have helped. Still, her doggedness and tenacity put her ahead of the park in the Nigeria and Africa business sphere which was primarily dominated by men.

She would do what she had to do. Every single detail of that’s girls life will be checked. She would be dissected like an insect, and if she didn’t meet the requirements, Tade would be the one to reject her not Molade. She will not lose her only son to a social climber or gold digger.

Solape proved to be a rare gem, but she would never acknowledge that to anyone. She was not only beautiful, which was one of the reasons Tade lost his heart and sense to her, but she was resourceful and knew how to use Thomas fortune to her advantage. Take this house for an instant.

She threw her gaze around the house, refusing to give in to any sentiments recollecting all the girl’s effort to win her approval. She would have preferred someone who was not that weak. Solape wore her heart on her sleeve and thought the whole world will love you if you were nice.

The news of her death broke Molade. She was still angry. How does cancer snuff the life of one so alive? Her hard exterior cracked in the walls of her bedroom the night she was informed of Solape’s demise.

Tade and Solape had announced they were going back to the US for vacation the family had gone during Easter. When she quizzed him, he said they just wanted the time to themselves. It was a rude shock when Tade called to tell her Solape was gone.

That she’d been diagnosed with cervical cancer on their last vacation. They did not want to alarm family members since a mere operation medically advised would solve the problem. According to Tade, initially, Solape did not wake up from the operation but did hours later as the medical team battled to resuscitate her. One day she was recovering from the operation, and the next day she went into cardiac arrest and died. The girl was not sick; she just died.

Molade wiped her silent tears away as she sat in the living room of her son’s house, pulling herself together. This was a part of her the world will never get to see. No one knew that she pulled strings behind the scene to make the girl succeed.

Solape related with her like she was oblivious to Molade’s cold demeanour. So she would visit her every week at the office, same time and same day. Molade cleared her calendar for those visits, and no meeting was scheduled within those hours. She argued she was only polite, but she enjoyed every time spent with that girl in hindsight.

Solape would talk about Toni, her business, the wins, looses who gave her problems, who was friendly, Tade etc. The talk was usually one-sided because Molade will only grunt or blatantly ignore her. Still, surprisingly the girl will be back the next week and the next so while she came to love the girl fiercely in her heart, she refused to show it outside.

She still wondered if the girl knew she was going to die. The last visit before her trip for the operation, she’d come round her desk to give her a hug that was totally out of place.

“I know you love me and thank you for everything,” and she was out of the office like she had never been there.

Tade was wrong. She had the opportunity of knowing the girl and enjoyed those times with Solape.

Fear To Fall Isn’t Shy To Talk About Life’s Brutality And That’s A Good Thing

Although a work of fiction, Fear to Fall is didactic, as it tells of how unpredictable and brutal life can sometimes be; throwing you curveballs
— Read on blog.okadabooks.com/fear-to-fall-book-review/

The Dice#8

Dunni walked into the office mid-afternoon on Monday still tired from acting as a chauffeur to her mum and aunt over the weekend.

All hell broke loose when they found out that Kemi was in the hospital and had undergone a surgery. An emergency family meeting was called where the family decided Kemi was moving out of her matrimonial home until there was a change in her husband. Otherwise, the family was ready to support her to file a divorce.

Dunni sat through the meeting, wishing she was anywhere but there. The arguments got heated, and some elders were almost at the point of brawling. Insults were hurled from one end of the room to the other like a tennis ball across the tennis table.

Unfortunately, she was unable to accompany Moses to his party. She had to work on Saturday and Sunday night to meet up with her deadline. Her mother and aunt were still in Lagos.

Dunni dropped her mum off at her elder brother’s place on the mainland before heading to work. Her mother still found time to complain about how quiet Dunni’s house was and what a difference it would make with the presence of a husband and children.

It was on her lips to retort that at least it was better than the boxing ring of a house her married cousin had found herself.

******

Dunni was glad to be in her office. She made her way straight to the fridge at the right corner of her office.

Taking out a bottle of cold water, she turned the cap open and guzzled the water in one go in a bid to quench her thirst. The heat outside was unbearable, and the slow traffic did not help.

Dunni gazed through the glass window overlooking the prestigious offices of some of the Nigerian banks on the busy Idowu Taylor Street. She never got tired of appreciating the edifices, the structures were intricate work of art. Dunni was glad to be inside though, the scorching sun outside could make a perfect toast. Taking off her jacket as she felt the cooling effect of not only the water but the Air conditioner now blowing cold air over her face. She basked in the luxury of the cooling relief.

Stepping out of her four inches Louboutin shoes, she retrieved her flats from under her table, settling for comfort rather than a luxury. The shrill noise from her phone had her scrambling to pick the call but not without hitting her head, wincing as she rubbed her head in a bid to rub the pain away. When did her ring tone change to such a miserable sound. If not the closeness of the noise, she would have no idea it was her phone. She checked the caller wondering why Emma was calling her at this time. The last time they had a conversation, something she could not place was amiss, but she had been too busy to follow up on any of Emma’s drama.

“Oh, Emma,” she sighed into the phone.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Emma queried with a giggle, Dunni could hear over the phone line.

“Not really.”

“I have not heard from you in a while and decided to give you a call.”

Dunni rolled her eyes with a weak yes. She still remembered their last conversation and how off Emma had sounded. Still, it appeared that whatever was bothering her at the time must have gone away.

“I am fine, just being busy.”

“Yeah, Moses said so. We met yesterday at Anu’s baby’s dedication. I thought he would come with you.”

“He mentioned it, but I could not go as I had other things to attend to.”

Wishing Emma to hurry and end the call. She had a busy day ahead of her and starting late was not helping matters. Another girl chit chat call during office would set her back by days if she wasn’t careful.

“Yeah,” Dunni answered drily.

Emma usually caught up with her monosyllable answers except for this time she appeared oblivious to Dunni’s reluctance in engaging in a conversation.

“It would have been so good to catch up. I have missed you.”

“I have missed you too.” Dunni smiled as she walked around to sit on the sofa’s she used for her clients.

“What about this weekend, your place or mine?” Dunni asked. She could hear the hesitance in Emma’s voice before she responded.

“Your place, I guess.”

“Geeez!” Dunni, let out a laugh. “What is up, Emma? I feel you’ve got something up your sleeve and you have to come out with it.”

“Not on the phone, see you over the weekend. Ice cream from the Chocolat Royal!”

“See you then babe, got to go back to work or this weekend may not happen.”

Dunni stared into space with a smile on her face. That’s what happens when your girlfriend knows your weakness. You can’t stay mad for long. She tapped the keys on her phone, entering the details for Friday date night to her calendar, adding a reminder to pick up Suya and Masa on her way home.

Meena’s Diary#26

I was brought back from my reverie with a nudge from Sa’a. “ Are you okay?” She asked with much concern, and I felt guilty to be a recipient of such kindness. I hated myself for what I was about to do but justified my action – something I find myself to be doing these days. It may be a way of me assuaging the guilt I felt at my helplessness for the feelings I had for JK. I thought I had successfully tamed it to non-existence. Still, it appears to be back like an unstoppable inferno threatening to consume me.

“I am okay,” I confirmed removing the Gucci glasses so she could see my face.

“I know it is so hard coming to terms with this whole drama. I hope she is safe wherever she is.”

“I hope so too,” I muttered afraid my lack of empathy will give me away.

“Can we go inside?” JK asked ushering us away from the blare of the hot scorching sun into the foyer decorated with live plants and cane furniture which gave the space a rustic but welcoming feel. I was so thirsty and could help with a glass of cold water. Still, the thought of an encounter with Mother – devil did not allow me to venture into the kitchen and help myself as I had done many times when Meena was around. Friend the word filled my mouth with bile. Traitor my rational brain taunted. I dropped my head, closing my eyes and will the headache I could feel coming.

“Are you sure you are okay?” Sa’ a asked again, worry etched on her forehead, and this time I was getting more irritated not at her of course but the guilt I felt at my betrayal.

“I’ m fine, just a headache which could be because of the heat,” I fibbed.

“Do you want cold water? please forgive my manners.” JK asked and apologised as he ushered us into the main house.

“I was focused on the latest information I have on Meena,” he explained.

“She called?” asked Sa’a with excitement, I did not share.

“Yes, she called her mum to say she was safe, and the woman should not worry. Meena used a private number, so we are unable to trace the call.

“Oh,” Sa’a mumbled, and I could feel her disappointment like a deflated balloon.

“At least we know that she is well and that is what is important for now,” I said with all the cheer I could muster.

“Yeah,” JK nodded, and I felt sorry for him but not so sorry. Who in her right sense will walk away from a guy like JK? He had made his money through hard work, it was not the Daddy hand me down riches. JK identified with people from both sides of the financial spectrum. In Nigeria, you were either rich or poor. The middle class has been long wiped off.

My brain was churning out strategic ideas. And first was to alienate JK’s mother from him. I had to build and blow her role in Meena’s disappearance out of proportion so he could see all this would not have happened without her.

“All this will not have happened if your mother had not meddled in your affairs. I am sorry to have to say this. Meena must have endured a lot from her, and just maybe she got tired of dealing with your mum. You need to keep her at arm’s length. I would have said before she wrecks your home but that warning is coming too late.

I pulled my falling veil and rewrapped it around my shoulders while I stole a glance to watch the effect of my words. Unfortunately, many times you could not read what JK was thinking. I shrugged and forged ahead to continue my onslaught.

“You need to put your mother…..”

“That is enough, Hauwau,” He barked forcing me to shut my mouth. Well, for now.

“My mom is the least of all our worries. I suppose you will have been digging for information and going down memory lane if Meena gave any indication of her plans. You’ve been friends right from your campus days.”

“And you will know too that Meena only told you what she wanted you to know,” I retorted.

“I have to be going. I must pick the kids from school. Please JK can you ring us when you have any news or if the Private investigator has any questions we can answer on the phone.” She said to JK who is busy texting on his phone. I think he was trying to reach the PI while Sa’a and I chatted away.

Sa’a threw her gaze at me as she had spoken for both of us both. However, I was not done yet, not even the mother from hell inside could stop me.

“I’ ll be going later. I will wait for the meeting with the private investigator?”

“I have to go now, you know how Salima and Raliama hate to be the last kids to be picked. And…”

“Yes, mummy,” I teased Sa’a.

I knew that look. If there was one person who you could read like a book, that would be Sa’a. Her facial expressions gave her away even before the words were formed. She would make a terrible lawyer.

“Don’t go all lawyer on him, the guy is already going through so much.”

I chuckle at her reference to ‘lawyer’ before responding. “I have no intention of doing any of that. Although, I would love to see JK squirm under my scrutiny.

“I heard that!” He snapped and moved away to pick a call that came through.

“I have to take this call,” he waved his phone as he stepped a few meters away.

“Whatever evil, you have planned for him. Remember he is our friend’s husband. And until she gives you the go-ahead to take him to the gallows, we must respect him.”

“Sa’a, there is a reason I am not with my husband. All this talk of respect bores me,” and I stifle a yawn.

I am cynical like that, and it’s a wonder I am with ladies who love their husbands to death. Well, one of us still does, and I hugged her with a speak to you later and waved while I waited for JK to finish his call.

Omowashe Omorishe #36

It’s so surreal that I am leaving Naija this evening. You know the feeling you get when you are stepping out into the unknown. It’s both trepidation and excitement.

Peju organised a surprised send forth this afternoon. I was surprised to see most of my friends at work. How did they get off work to come?

We shared and laughed off our heads as my friends shared funny moments at work. Peju recalled the visit we made to the Kiri Kiri prisons at the start of our career. How I was dressed to the nines on that fateful day only to meet inmates who cared less how I looked but when they would one day be free like me.

I wiped away the tears that fell freely. I was leaving valuable friendships and family behind. At this moment, it was hard to remember why I was going away.

I received quite some gifts and keepsakes.Peju presented a framed office group picture. It was one of the Bank’s award night where we had won the Branch of the year.

“Wow! Where did you get the picture? It is beautiful. See our Manager looking every inch the business guru.”

“Is that all you see?” Peju asked with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Unlike you, I see a guy smitten by you and who is yet to come to terms with what to do, but it is written all over him.”

“I hate to put a snag to your fantasy, Peju. The guy is not available. Please don’t put me in trouble. There is one correct babe around. In these days of jealous girlfriends, jumping around with acid. I don’t want to be a victim.

“You sure Drew is taken?”

“100%, like I know my name.”

Peju looked so comical with the look of disappointment on her face that I lost the battle to stifle my laughter.

“Stop playing cupid Peju. I am fine with or without love. Romance does not define my life. I should not be jumping straight into the arms of any guy who gives me a second of his time. I am not desperate.

Drew and I are good friends who understand each other. We have a great friendship that I would not destroy because I am unable to differentiate between friendship and lust.

“It’s just that the signs are all out there. That guy adores you,” argued Peju.

“He does, I agree but not in the way you are thinking. He adores my work and dedication while we worked together, turned mother hen when I fell ill, and we have fallen into the rhythm of having a platonic friendship.

“Recipe for true love,” remarked Peju.

“I give up,” I muttered, exasperatedly clueless how to make Peju understand her romantic dreams for Andrew and I were never going to happen. The thought alone filled me with sadness, but it was not something I could explain. The logic would be once he gets married, the dynamics of our friendship would change.

“Is Drew aware you are leaving today?” Peju asked undeterred.

“Yes, I went to tell him last night. He was mad. I could not comprehend why he was more upset that the rest of you. You could think he was losing a multi-billion dollar contract. His ranting might be justified, but I do believe it was overboard but all I did was apologise for peace sake rather than aggravate an already bad situation.

But you know what? You all will be okay, and within one week, you would have forgotten whether I am around or not. Moving to the other side of the globe is better than moving to the other side of the universe. A big thanks to technology. We can always communicate with ease.”

“Would my babies be talking to you on the phone?”

“Yep in their gibberish language. I will be cooing blowing the twins kisses. I promise to come in every three months just for them. I do take my Godmother duties seriously,” I assured Peju.

I could see her trying not to tear up, and I did appreciate. I was not sure I could hold off my tears if she started hers.

“I am trying to be strong, and little things like the twins were tearing me apart,” I mumbled incoherently hugging my best friend fiercely.

******

The day went in a blur. I was finally able to catch my breath when I took my seat on my plane. Six hours of sleep was a luxury I was looking forward to with delight.

I had barely settled down to begin my anticipated sleep when an air hostess came over to inform me of a change in my seat from economy to first class

“There must have been a mistake,” I argued knowing what ticket I booked and how much I paid. It was nothing near a first class.

She checked my seat number and name and reconfirmed if I was Lana of which I affirmed. All my explanations that she must have the wrong Lana seem to fall on deaf ears.

“Please, could you identify your hand luggage? I will help you with that while you follow me. We are very sorry for the inconvenience.”

I chucked. How inconvenient is moving from economy to first class?

I was still trying to figure out what was going on but I guess there would be an explanation. I hope the airline does not come back with another mix-up story as I definitely will not go back to the economy class.

Sinking into the plush cream leather seat, I closed my eyes savouring the luxury that engulfed me and like a lullaby lured me to nap.

I must be dreaming.

Why am I seeing Drew? He is seating opposite me on the plane working on his laptop like he was doing last night at his place. I was on a plane and not in his garden.

Rubbing my eyes, trying to distinguish between dreams and reality. I stretched like a shire cat and observed around me.

Shaking my head, in a bid to wipe out the image before me. How could my subconscious be conjuring Drew? Peju had messed up my head with all that talk. Laughing out loud, I assured myself I would be fine.

I picked the bottle of wine before me, reading it to be sure it was non-alcoholic. I needed my sanity to be intact when the air hostess discovered that she made a mistake. Wrinkling my nose with disgust, the mere thought of going back to economy class filled me with distaste. The airline would hear a thing or two from me if it came to that.

I poured out the wine into the wine glass and took a sip enjoying the taste of the grape. No need to worry about the future.

Hey stranger!
I almost dropped my wine glass with fear.Now I needed to visit a psychiatric doctor.I was not only hallucinating Drew being on the plane with me, but it had gotten worse that I could hear his voice.

Meena’s Diary#13

Still, in France, I leave the details out, but the least was I let loose to have the fun of my life. I threw my problem to the bottom of my concerns. We will deal with all that when we get back home. One could not deny herself the pleasure of living a carefree attitude even if it was false and fleeting.
wordle-girlstoys
I shopped with JK, and he was the ones choosing most of the outfits. That guy has a sense of fashion that beats me and put mine to shame. He should have been in the fashion industry and not the IT techy world.

I did many crazy things in Paris. Top three were

One, a permanent tattoo lined eyebrow. Yes! I did those perfect arcs. That I no longer had to stay in front of the mirror each morning drawing and my brows.

Two, I tinted my lips red. I never in my life have to bother about those anymore. Hubby was rooting for me like a maniac.

“This vengeance on looking young is severe. What else do we need to do?” JK asked tongue in cheek.

“Is it you that we are putting all this on? Calm down. I am going into self-actualisation mode.”

“Ha! It is me o. Don’t you know your body is mine?”

I did my un-lady like snort, rolled my eyes again and managed a “get out” under my breath.

The third almost brought the whole hotel room down. I got a second piercing on my ears and one on my nose!

“Meena biko! He pleaded in the Igbo language. Is your new look not becoming too much. Do you want to compete with the 18-year-olds?

I stood there staring at JK blankly.

It is bad enough people take you for a teenager, but this one will leave no doubt in their minds.

“You did not discuss this with me before you did it?”

“Is this for real?” I ask myself with sparks flowing out of my head like the ones you see in a cartoon.

“JK, don’t worry, in my momentary transformation, I will try not to disgrace you,” I said sarcastically.

He looked at me with confusion which was more common these days. The bewildered look he gave on some of my comments. I would blow hot where I should be blowing cold. Pass comments not relevant to our discussion but trying to talk about his affair and not going about it directly. I was in a back and front motion. Some days I’ll be moving forward, other days getting stuck and some other times just going back.

“Babe that is not what I meant. It looks good on you, but I don’t think it is something you should be doing? When you do this, then trust the girls will do more.”

“Oh that will be their choice, and I can’t be held responsible for that,” I replied in self-defense knowing he was right but refusing to agree on it with him

“You are their role model. Where you stop is where they will. It is not about whether something is right or wrong. It about the kind of message you are sending out.”

“Where would our sons start? Please note here we had none. Two wives and a harem of girlfriends?”

I blurted out!