friendships – 21stcenturybelle

Meena’s Diary#30

I read the blogs and comments and laughed it off. Who will believe all the conspiracy theories? Just because JK won a tech award, all the lenses have been pointed at his life, his background, and his history. I saw a post by a random person saying I met JK at a party before going to the university. I did not recognise the name, but that person must have known me or someone who does. No one was there to agree or disagree with the comment.

When they were tired, they would move on to the next big scandal. In Nigeria, it was a scandal every other market day. At best, a story will be on for 2 or 3 weeks. Still, something else always came up, and trust Nigerians to take the matter into their own hands, discussing strangers’ personal issues with so much passion and conviction that one would think they had slept and woken up in the same room with the strangers. No action, no solution, heated arguments and unsolicited advice. It was the 21st-century equivalent of market-square gossip. If we diverted the same energy to solving our national issues, the nation wouldn’t be where it is.

I swiped away from social media to my email, bringing up Meena’s email. I held back responding to her. If I were to start divorce proceedings, JK would know we were in touch, and he would be pissed off that I withheld this information from him, which would damage the access I currently have to him. Moreover, JK would not agree to a divorce without putting up resistance.

Talk about the devil. JK’s call came through. Without any greeting, his voice blaring through my phone, “I would not be needing your Investigator.”

“Why?”I asked, a dread coming over me, another dent to my plans.

“I changed my mind.” His tone sounded final, the kind he must be using in his negotiations. I could not be intimidated by any tone; I have seen much worse in the courtroom or with some unruly clients who think money has made them gods and given them license to speak without being spoken back to.

“Are you not looking for your wife anymore?” I ventured to ask.

“I did not call to be interrogated by you. You seem to think that I do not know that Meena would have been in contact with you women. I have never believed it, and I still do not.”

And just like that, the call went dead. JK had ended the call. Does this guy have some sixth sense? My access to every piece of information from the Investigator would have been my cue to filter any information he received. My frustration was building up. Meena had been gone for more than three months now, and I was no closer to making him see me as the woman he needs. If I have been patient for 10 years and now suddenly fortune has smiled on me with Meena leaving, what is 12 months more of waiting? JK, you can run for all you want. I will get you this time. There is no comeback from Meena. She would never take you back. I sank into my chair, my gaze on the ceiling. I had an exit clause in my marriage to Sheriff. I would finally be with the one I have loved all these years.

Meena’s Diary #28

I waited for two hours and still did not hear from Hauwau. This was very unlike her. She would have fired me with emails threatening me to call her as soon as possible. The silence was louder than her many shrieks in person.

It is official. My friends hated me! I stayed away because I could not afford to take chances. JK will have his eyes on them, very sure they will have information about my location.

The girls and I had just come in. I picked them from school, which was a short five-minute walk from the house, on the days my schedule allowed it. On other days, the elderly housekeeper Madam Asanatou did. Banjul was a quieter and slower-paced town than Abuja. The population for the whole area was comparable to that of Asokoro or Jabi. The Gambians were friendly, and the girls and I settled in nicely.

I feel guilty about taking the girls from JK, but I couldn’t have left my precious babies alone, and I needed to take a walk. I could have been wrong, but I still think I could demonstrate resilience in any other situation, but not infidelity.

I sighed as I stepped into the cold air-conditioned house. The heat was something else. Abuja heat would have prepared us for Banjul. But no, the weather was something I could never get used to. I prefer the cold weather, but Anastasiya, a colleague who comes originally from Russia, warns me to be careful what I ask for.

It’s been three months since I left JK without a hint. I booked a flight to Lagos under a different name, and from there, we travelled to Accra by road and then took a flight to the Gambia.

I wasn’t stupid enough to leave any tracks. I did not want to be found. I needed to just disappear and build a life for myself and the girls.

I started work with the Gambian branch of my office in Nigeria. Still, two weeks after my resumption, there came another opportunity to work with UNESCO in the country. It was a perfect opening for me. I applied, and six weeks after a series of interviews, I got the role. I was extremely excited because the work time was flexible, allowing me to fit it around my kids. The girls attended the bilingual international school, paid for by the company. We were comfortable, and I could not complain.

I am already thinking of bringing my mum. She is still upset with me. And all my reasons why appear not to resonate with her.

I threatened not to call her again if she keeps moaning about JK. She should accept my decision and refrain from discussing him with me. I did not want to know what he did or anything about it. I was surprised he had not married the lady carrying his son. With the way his mother was excited about the birth of her grandson, one would think that they would have completed the marriage rites quickly and moved on with their lives. Maybe it was a quiet wedding. Whatever, it was not my business. I tried to convince myself I did not care. Still, I was the one poring over the Internet looking for updates on Jamal Kolawole Lawson or Lawson Technologies. JK had clinched that contract he was working on before I left. I knew, as it was all splashed over the news and one of the top technology blogs, I followed because of him. Luckily, his personal life had not been featured on those gossip blog sites.

I closed all my social media accounts and operated under a pseudonym. This was to keep in touch with friends, but it was more like ghosting, as I could never comment or give away my identity.

So, I stalked him through his pages, not that anything was going on there. He had not posted anything in the last four months. He had zero presence on social media.

Yes, I was that pathetic. I justified my actions. And I would not admit that I still love JK. I had a responsibility to know he was okay as the father of my girls.

In a moment of weakness, I dialed his number the moment I found out he won the contract, and I was expecting another child. JK picked the call and kept repeating “hello,” while I held on relishing the sound of his voice unable to utter a word. I broke down in silent tears when he asked, “Is that you, Meena?” Holding onto my mobile phone as if my life depended on it. I wanted to ask him how he was doing and congratulate him on his big win. I wanted to let him know we were expecting our third child. I just held on till he cut the call. If only I could forget why and how we got to this point.

I cradled my stomach, feeling life growing inside of me. Finding out that I am expecting our third child was a bittersweet feeling. Surprised because I had put measures in place not to have any more children, and shocked, as this was not the time in my life to carry a child and do so alone without JK. I wished I could turn the hands of the clock back again when all was good between us. I tortured myself with the thoughts of how excited JK would have been, even though we were not expecting it. It was still a blessing from God and worth celebrating. If it were a boy, it would have been his mother’s answered prayer. If it were a girl, we would have been ecstatic at the arrival of yet another version of me and the array of pink ribbons and dresses that forever adorned our home. They all came with their unique personality. You couldn’t help but fall in love with them and marvel at how these tiny, perfect beings came from two imperfect beings, and how quickly they kept growing, keeping you on your toes. The sassiness and know-it-all get to me on some days, the confidence and innocence bring out the fire to protect them as much as I can from the evil in the world. I remain their biggest cheerleader, letting them know they can be anything they choose to be, and nothing can stop them.

The Dice #42

“Since when did you start poking your nose into my business dealings?”
“Mom, this is not some business game, merger, acquisition, or cold profit projection. We are talking about human lives—wives, mothers, sisters, and aunties… not cows. Though these days, it feels like cows get more sympathy than missing women.”

“Tade, I do not have all morning to listen to your political speech on the failed state and how you and I sit on opposite sides of the fence, yet you benefit from the returns of my business and connections.”

Tade ran his hands through his low afro in frustration.
“I want Dunni rescued tonight. I’m unsure what the rescue team hired by her office is doing. We were told to back off, that they had it covered, but it’s been three days, and I’m going out of my mind.”

Their conversation was halted by a ruckus at the door, with the receptionist attempting to stop a man from entering.
“I’m so sorry, ma. He walked straight in after I asked if he had an appointment.”

Molade gazed at her receptionist in disgust. She’d deal with her later. She didn’t get to where she was by entertaining people who couldn’t do their jobs regardless of the obstacles.
“How can I help you?” she asked coolly, addressing the man like they had never met.

Tade stared at the man, trying to place the face—then it hit him. The man from the restaurant who acted strangely when he mentioned his mom. He watched his mother’s indifferent demeanour.

“To what do I owe the honour of your time and presence? Last, I remember, you wanted nothing to do with me.”
She was never going to tell him about the children. That ship had sailed when he threw her out of his office a few weeks ago.

“Dr Larry,” Tade stood up to greet him. “Fancy meeting you here. I didn’t know you knew my mother. I was just about to leave.” Turning to his mom and putting his hands together in a pleading gesture, “Do something for me.”

Molade nodded, grateful that Tade took the cue to leave. She had no intention of letting him know that the father they all believed was dead was, in fact, very much alive—especially since that father had wanted nothing to do with her. If they had survived all these years without him, they certainly didn’t need him now.

As soon as the door closed behind Tade, Molade asked sharply, “To what do I owe this visit? Last time we met, you wanted nothing to do with me.” She had no idea why he was there, but she wanted him gone faster than he barged in. She could only imagine the stress her receptionist was under. She’d have to have a serious conversation with her. Her time was up—she’d be transferred to another department. Such carelessness couldn’t be condoned, even if it wasn’t entirely her fault.

“I would’ve liked the young man to stay. This concerns him,” Lanre said.

Molade’s head snapped up from her screen. “Why would you want to talk to him?”

“Molade, I don’t have time for games. Why is Tade bearing my middle name and surname?”

Against her earlier decision not to tell him, she saw there was no point in pretending anymore. He’d figured it out.
“Because he is your son,” she said calmly, almost daring him to react.

Lanre sat down, stunned into silence. A thousand thoughts ran through his head. His heart raced. He had suspected it but didn’t want to believe it.

“He has a sister,” Molade added.

Lanre stared at her like she was mad. A sister? Was she trying to pin another child on him?

“Tade has a twin sister,” she clarified, reading the question in his eyes.

They hadn’t been together for over thirty years, but Molade knew Lanre like she knew herself—the slight twitch of his mouth when he was sceptical, the double blink in his left eye when he was processing information, the way his right brow arched when he finally understood. He had aged—salt-and-pepper hair and beard—but he was still the same handsome man she once loved. One day, he was gone—vanished. Her father later told her he was dead. Something in her died that day, too. It was the children who kept her sane while she threw herself into the family business to numb the grief.

“If you’re in doubt, do a DNA test.”

“Have you told them I’m alive, now that you know?”

“No. The way you threw me out of your office, I figured there was no point. They’ve survived without you till now. They can continue without you.”

The words cut deep. In one second, he was a father—not to one, but two grown children. Possibly even a grandfather. It was a lot.

“Did you ever try to visit my grave after they told you I was dead?”

“No,” Molade said quietly, realizing how foolish she’d been to trust her father blindly. He never accepted Lanre, the son of a cocoa farmer, into their elitist world.

Lanre had only come to confirm his suspicions, suspicions sparked when he saw Tade weeks ago. Two children, in their mid-thirties, whom he knew nothing about. But he couldn’t blame her entirely—he walked away. That she was told he was dead was his fault, too. He’d made no effort to contact her. She was dead to him then. But in cutting her off, he had lost so much more.

“When are you going to tell them? I’d like to meet them. Do you have a photo of the girl?”

Molade passed him her phone. The woman in the photo was stunning—a feminine version of the boy. He’d never have guessed they were his. While he trusted Molade wouldn’t lie about something so serious, he’d still do a DNA test. He couldn’t afford to pour his heart into a lie, not after losing so much time.

“These kids weren’t hidden. They’ve been on magazine covers, blogs—you name it. I’m surprised you never saw anything.”

“You were dead to me, Molade. I didn’t want to hear or see anything about the Thomas family. I stayed away—spent most of my time abroad, doing aid work. My work became my life.”

What he didn’t say was that work was his way of numbing the pain of losing her.

Molade winced. He must really hate her. And she couldn’t blame him. Her family had treated him horribly.

“When will you tell them?” Lanre asked again. “There’s no point delaying. I’ve already lost enough time.”

“Tade is going through hell right now. His fiancée was kidnapped.”

“Is that the girl who was with him when I saw him?”

“I suppose. Her name is Dunni. You delivered her.”

Lanre’s brows furrowed. “How’s that?”

“I saw her birth certificate. That’s how I found out you were alive.”

“Is that what happens now? People submit documents to marry into your family?”

“Not exactly,” she said, trying to deflect. “But we do our checks. You never know who’s coming in for love or for what they can get.”

“You learned from the best—your dad,” Lanre said dryly. Molade glared at him.

“That my father was wrong about you doesn’t mean there aren’t wolves out there.”

“This Dunni girl—what’s the situation?” Lanre asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Molade briefed him, leaving out her personal business involvement and the planned operation.

“We’ll have to wait until it’s over,” Lanre said, standing and handing her his card. “You can reach me on either number. I’ll be out of the country for the next few weeks, but let me know when it’s safe, and I’ll come back.”

Molade got up to walk him out, but Lanre waved her off.
“Don’t worry. And please, show that lady some mercy. There was nothing she could’ve done to stop me. I know how this works—and you’ve probably already decided to fire her. But for the sake of what we once shared, keep her. Sometimes, you win loyalty that way.”

Molade stood frozen. Who was Lanre to walk back into her life and start telling her how to run a business she’d built and sustained for over thirty years without him? The audacity.
But deep down, part of her smiled—because, somehow, he still cared.

The Dice#28

She’d barely been at her place for ten minutes when she heard her doorbell ring. Whoever it was, it must have been someone close to her gateman to allow the person in. She could guess it may be Ola, Moses, or Emma, and she was not up to receiving anyone; she should have told Sule he was not to let anyone in, even the list she had given him.

Dunni opened the door and was not surprised to see Emma, her long-time friend and confidante. “Who asked you to come?” she asked, although she could guess that Moses, her childhood friend, must have put her up to it.

“It does not matter who put me up to it. Emma replied, walking past her and dropping her bag on the sofa. She made a beeline to the fridge to help herself with a glass of cold water. Typical of Emma to walk in like she owned the place.

“It is so hot; this global warming is genuine and not some scam by the world out there.

Dunni followed her without saying a word. She was sure Emma had not come all the way to talk about the weather and was not in the mood for any discussion.

“I hear congratulations are in place—engaged and with a daughter, too!” said Emma, gazing at her pointedly.

Dunni waved her hand in denial, giving a small smile.

“So, when is the wedding?”

“Three months from now.”

“What! Who gives three months to plan a wedding? Does this guy know you have a whole community of friends and family who have been waiting for this day, and you both want to rush it like that?”

Dunni swallowed hard. She did not want to tell her friend that Tade had fixed the date without consulting her. He wanted the wedding to be before the end of the year, the same date as his previous marriage. Tade had already decided to use his church. He did not want the wedding to be in the month of his daughter’s and late wife’s birthday, which was also her birth month. Dunni had always dreamed of a June wedding and hated the idea of a wedding around Christmas. The season was too festive to add to the burden of planning a wedding.

“Tade did not see any reason to wait longer, and we both know what we wanted,” she said, hating herself for lying to her friend. How was she to explain how pathetic she had become to her friend going ahead to marry a guy who thought more about himself, his daughter and his dead wife over her, or at least it came across as that to her?

“Or he thinks you may change your mind.”

“Emma!”

“Don’t Emma me. I may be called many things, but I won’t keep my mouth shut when I see you making a huge mistake. Leaving a guy who’s loved you all his life for someone looking for a mother for his child and a wife to keep his home.”

“That’s enough, Emma! Dunni shouted and regretted doing so immediately.

“Who are you talking about that has loved me all his life?” Dunni asked, more upset with Emma than she had ever been in all their years of friendship.

“Do you seriously not know, or are you playing games with me?”

“Who is it?” Dunni asked, exasperated.

“Moses.”

“What are you talking about? Moses never had feelings for me. It has always been a joke on his part ever since he used his useless dice.”

“Yeah,” Emma retorted drily. “I am sorry to inform you that it appears you were the only one who did not see this guy staying by your side and playing the role of a fiancé, which you found very convenient.”

“Did you know about Moses’ supposed feelings for me?” Dunni asked quietly, afraid of what she might hear.

Emma laughed in derision. “Are you serious? I have been your friend all these years, and I thought you knew. Can you remember the day you walked in on Moses and me having a conversation about some mystery girl in our final semester? You said if he loved the girl badly and she wasn’t reciprocating, she did not deserve him, and he should move on.”

“Yes, I do, but what does that have to do with me?” Dunni rubbed her temples, frustrated by the unending circles to their conversation.

“Since you have decided to act clueless where Moses is concerned, you were the girl in that conversation. We have been waiting for your eyes to be opened, but it was not only your eyes that were closed; your heart was closed, too.”

“No way!” she did not want to believe Emma. There must be a mistake somewhere.

“Yes, way! Sleeping beauty. Moses has loved you all these 16 years. 16 years, this guy has stayed by your side, loving you in many ways some girls will only dream of, but you have been so blind. I hope you know what you are doing. I married Greg, who I love to the moon and back, and some days, I’m wondering what I got myself into. Now, think of what would happen if I had married some guy who I felt a maternal pull to his daughter. I’ll be out of the marriage now.

Emma stood up and slipped her bag over her shoulders. “I’ll see myself out,” she said, hugging Dunni. You are in a difficult situation, but I hope you think of yourself and that little girl and that you are doing your best for her in the long run. Should you be unhappy in that marriage, there would be little you can do for her.”

Dunni was left in tears. She did not think she had any more tears left. All she had been doing in the last couple of days was crying. Her misery increased when she thought of all the ways Moses had been trying to tell her of his love, and she had bluffed all of them, thinking he was teasing and just running with his dice prediction.

She missed Moses if what she was going through did not involve him. She would have gone to him to talk it through so she could run her thoughts by him. Moses had a way of breaking up situations and helping you see the bigger picture.

She grabbed her keys and drove to Ola’s place. She needed to figure out what she was searching for. If what Emma said was true, then Ola must have known all this while.

When she got to Ola’s house, she was so glad Ola opened the door instead of his wife. Dunni knew she looked a mess and wasn’t sure she could face Miriam right now with all the questions she could not answer. Dunni politely asked for his wife as Ola led her to his study. She could guess she was crashing on family time.

“Is it true?” she asked.

“What,” Ola asked, scratching his head obliviously at what she was talking about.

“Is it true that Moses has loved me for the last 16 years?” Dunni knew she must sound pathetic, but she needed to know. “Ola, please tell me. For the sake of all the years we have been friends,” Dunni pleaded.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Go to Moses and talk this over with him. You don’t need me; I am a third party.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?” It appeared that Ola would talk for a fraction of a second, and then it was gone. He shook his head. “I am sorry, Dunni. You need to talk to Moses.”

Fine!” she stormed out of his study, smacking into someone. She did not need to look at the face to know it was Moses. She could recognize the woodsy and aromatic smell of his cologne anywhere.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, looking up at his face and being shocked. It had been only 24 hours, and Moses had never looked this worse. His hair was uncombed. She felt terrible that she was the one hurting and causing him pain.

After this blew over, Dunni promised to start looking for another job. It was too obvious that things could never go back to what they used to be. The friendship and usual banter would be gone, replaced with a strained relationship.

Ola followed her out. He did not appear surprised to see Moses. “A good thing you are here. Dunni came to ask me a question only you could answer. I will leave you both here. Please close the door behind you.”

Moses tucked his hands into his pocket, not without sending a silent thank you to his friend. He had come to talk to Ola. Just the thought of Dunni going ahead with the wedding was driving him crazy.

Dunni cast an evil look at Ola. “Fine!” Such an irony is the word she used when everything was far from being ‘fine’ in her life. Would discovering Moses’ feelings for her have been since they were teenagers make any difference to her? Was she trying to assuage the pain and hurt she felt? How could something you have wished for so long fall within your reach, and you could not take it?

Dunni returned to the study while Moses followed her, shutting the door behind them.

“Is there something you wanted to ask me?” Dunni could hear his voice, dejected and defeated, breaking her heart. Her upbeat friend, who would bring the moon down if need be, now appeared to have lost his zest for life.

She cleared her voice. Is it true about that day with Emma on campus that you were referring to me?”

“What difference would it make,” he asked gruffly, his hands still in his pocket as he walked over, closing the distance between them.

“No difference,” she lied. “I just need to know.”

“I won’t answer your question,” he said, holding her gaze as he moved towards her, closing the distance between them and entirely in her personal space. They had been this close before, and she had not bothered, but all her senses were up this time.

Dunni was the first to blink, “We have nothing else to say on this issue, and we can all go forward with our lives.

If that’s what you want.

She was sick and tired of Moses acting as if she had dumped the burden of the revelation on them instead of him. He should have kept whatever feelings he had to himself. The guilt was slowly eating at her, and she was looking for anything to get her out of this mess. It was supposed to be simple: She got engaged and moved on like Ola and Moses would one day. It was not something to be this complicated, a love triangle.

Meena’s Dairy#24

Hauwa’u…..

It’s been three months and no one has heard from Meena. I can’t understand how someone can disappear in this age and time with no clue.

JK’s private investigator is yet to come out with any meaningful leads. He is still exploring all the airline manifesto on the day she left. I have been beside myself with worry while trying to calm her mother that all is well. JK is a shadow of himself. He is barely functioning, a shadow of his former trying to keep up with his daily routine of going to work and keeping the company running.

The whole saga started with Bimpe overhearing JK’s mom complain of Meena not able to give her a grandson. The plan conceived and executed to get JK in the same hotel as her with her boyfriend as an accomplice.

It was all a lie to siphon money from JK and you could visibly see the weight off his shoulders from relief when she confessed he did not touch her and the baby was not his.

The length people can go for money is alarming but the length people would go for love is disarming. This is where the real story begins.

It’s been no hidden secret that I have never been a fan of JK the perfect boyfriend turned husband and like all other men I tolerated after my husband with his philandering ways had done a number on me. I am not bitter. I mistrust and deal with them from afar. I can’t trust this foolish heart of mine not to fall in love again. I was aloof and dealt with the opposite sex on a professional basis with my guards up. One of the old recipes of love budding is time spent together. The extreme is love at first sight and the modern day is “what you can get” defining love.

As I stepped out of my car, Sa’a was also driving in. So I waited for her in the hot sun blaring down my face, fishing for my Gucci shades in my bag, I wore them and walked over to join Sa’a.

We were here because JK had requested we come over to the house for a meeting with the Private Investigator who had told him of some leads but wanted to ask questions to some theories he postulated. So it was basically another boring and senseless questioning session.

I turned to the direction of the sound of a car coming to the driveway and there was Meena’s mother- in- law getting down from the car even before the car came to a halt. We stepped forward and offered a greeting she snubbed.

“That foolish friend of yours with her erratic ways will not be the downfall of my son. She could not give him a male child and has the guts to make trouble. I warned JK but he would not listen now he has to make his bed and lie on it. I hope he has the common sense to start thinking of getting a new wife to replace her fast.”

We both drew a sharp breath unconsciously shocked at the venom in her words. Meena had given us some of the stories of her encounter with the woman and the no love lost between them but we did not know how bad it was.

She looked at us queerly.

“What are you doing here anyway? Your friend no longer lives here so you should not come here anymore, or is one of you hoping to take her place?” She asked with a smug look I wanted to slap off her face should she have been another woman.

We were saved from answering when JK drove in. He was behind the wheels with the driver in the passenger seat.

He came down, handing the key to the driver who now drove the car out to run some errands.

My wayward heart did a somersault at the sight of him. He had grown his beard, although looking unkempt but handsome in a rugged way. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. My heart reached out to him and I reminded myself this was my friend’s husband. I can’t go there. Yes, I hated JK or so I made myself believe. It was my defense mechanism over the years but more from him choosing my friend over me. I had secretly loved JK for as long as I can remember before Meena came into the picture. Meena joked that whatever I wanted I got, what she did not know was the only thing I ever wanted so badly and I never got was hers yet she had willingly thrown him away.

Meena’s Diary#8

My eyes flew open while I slowly stretched on the hard seat in the waiting reception of the hospital careful not to wake Hauwau.
The things I heard still rang in my head. To think that I had always thought my friend had her life on a platter of gold and was going through a difficult marriage deeply hid in the false exterior of a fulfilled life. She had opened up to me in the hours that flew while we waited for Sa’a to wake up.

wordle-girlstoys

I gasped when I saw Atiku standing before me. I knew I was not dreaming for my eyes were well wide awake although my addled brain was still trying to process the information.
“You came,” I exclaimed with joy like a little girl who had just received a gift from Santa Claus.
“Where was I supposed to be, when my dear wife is on admission at the hospital? Stay and be working? Oh no! You do not think work is more important than Sa’a?”

I am both confused and shocked simultaneously. What in the first place brought Sa’a to the hospital? I rubbed my eyes tiredly stifling a yawn, and thinking that perhaps I must be dreaming. This was not the attitude of one willing to take on a second wife.
“Atiku, I don’t know what to think.” He did look tired, but this was my chance to broach the subject. Maybe he would have a rethink and the looming calamity over my friends’ home will be averted.
I took a glance where Hauwau lay and was happy she was fast asleep. She would have reprimanded me to let sleeping dogs lie but me in my character of saying what I thought neither paid attention nor gave heed to the warning but for the intervention of providence.

There was no love lost between Hawau and Atiku. How she managed to remain in Sa’as life is still a mystery. One thing Sa’a had not been able to oblige Atiku is forfeiting her friendship with Hawau.
Atiku followed my gaze and his tired face now replaced with a scowl. I could not help but chuckle, and he scowled harder.
“You should get used to her,” I walked ahead to leading the way Sa’as room.

Sa’a was fast asleep. Atiku rushed to her side holding her hand with so much tenderness that tears rolled down my cheek. I hoped what I heard were lies or a misunderstanding. The picture before me did not portray a man planning to bring in a second wife. There definitely must be a mistake. The look of love and anguish that filled his eyes as he watched Sa’a lying almost lifeless on the bed except her slow but laboured breathing.
“What did the Doctor say?” He asked hoarsely, and I felt so sorry for him.
“She tried to commit suicide.”
“What!” He exclaimed shutting his eyes in anguish.
“Why would she do that?”
I could see the look of confusion on his face.
“Why would she want to kill herself?”
“You have no idea?”
He was looking at me like I had a growth or something not in place on my head.
“Meena, please do not torture me further by going in circles. Tell me what I need to know to rectify why she felt the need to try to kill herself.”

A few minutes ago I was ready to give him my opinion and beg him to see reason, but common sense told me to keep shut and let this two work out whatever the issue was.
There was hope for Sa’a. A man heartbroken like what I just saw could not have been the mean guy portrayed in the story Hauwau narrated. Something was not right in the story, but the scene here was looking good.

“

Meena’s Diary#6

Survivor

The doctors rushed in as I got a glimpse of Sa’a gasping for breath while the hospital staff shooed us out.An eerie feeling filled the air, I shivered with goose pimples, negotiating with the creator to spare her life. My thoughts went to her little twin girls. Who would take care of them if anything happened to her?

wordle-girlstoys

I was pacing the length and breadth of the reception, too apprehensive to sit down.
” Meena,” Hawau called out to me.
“You should sit down. Let’s hope for the best.”

She looked more scared and subdued than she thought she was letting on but this was not the time or place to hassle her.

“Do you think she’ll make it?”
“I hope she does. If for anything for her girls
“Do you think Atiku would marry this new girl?”

“You might need to ask him that question Meena. I am not him, and for the life of me, I don’t know what he is thinking.”
I closed my eyes as the pain washed over me. I tried to imagine JK marrying someone else or maybe having an affair, and the mere thought was enough to kill me.I shook my head willing the idea out of my head.
“What would you have done if you were Sa’a?” asked Hauwau
“I don’t know. The thought just crossed my mind, and I don’t wish it upon my enemy. It will kill me. Sa’a might not have a choice since her culture allows it. Although we thought with Atiku being an educated man, it will be different, but with JK, polygamy is not an option.
“If polygamy is not an option. You are aware they could have affairs and mistresses outside ko bahaka ba?” said Hauwau emphasising her point in the Hausa language.
“JK would never do that. He loves me and the kids so much to toe that line.”
Hauwau laughed. “Oh my naïve friend. I am with you in your paradise of foolishness.”
I was on the verge of replying when the team of doctors and nurses who were with Sa’a came out.

We rushed out to them with hope in our eyes. The lead Doctor smiled at us and reassuring us “She pulled through but is resting now. She will be all right.”
We both heaved a sigh of relief.
“I have to go and pick the kids from school and would be back. I would spend the night with her. Shouldn’t we call Atiku?”I asked again.
“He should be here with his wife and not on some rendezvous with a God forsaken girl who sees no wrong in going after someone’s husband.”
“You have been itching to call him. Call him,” hissed Hauwau. She has been in a foul mood all day, and I was yet to get around asking her what the problem was.
I pulled my phone and dialled his number which he picked on the first ring.
“Hajia Meena, ya kike?” He greeted me over the phone.
“Kalau Atiku but there is a problem. We almost lost Sa’a today. Thank God she is out of danger,” And I started crying over the phone.
“When was this?” He asked, and I could hear the trepidation in his voice.
“This morning.”
“Why did you not call me?”
I had to lie to answer the question. “I was called in by Hauwau. Everything was happening so fast that I was so confused not until the doctor just assured us she was going to be alright, did it occur to me to call you. At least the latter part was true. Where are you I ventured to asked?” feigning ignorance
“I am in Dubai, but I will be taking the next available flight back home. “What hospital is she in?”
“Gurara Hospital.”
I whooped for joy. The situation was not that bad. He still cared for Sa’a.

Meena’s Dairy#5

Wake up

wordle-girlstoys I ran into the reception of Gurara hospital looking around for Hauwau, and there she was sitting calmly like she was not the one who had raised the alarm sending me scurrying off to the hospital like a frightened rat.

“Hey! What’s the problem, spill it out,” I commanded irritably.

“You need not be in a hurry. Only brace yourself for what you are about to see.”

“What kind of suspense is this?” My heart was beating at 70, above the normal healthy heart rate per minute and my friend was all cool and dilly-dallying on the main issue

“Follow me,” she said gravely.
I was filled with trepidation as I walked behind her trying not to second guess what I was to behold.
Once we entered the room, I almost blacked out with shock as I saw Sa’a my dear friend lying lifeless on the bed.

My knees buckled as my mind screamed. She could not be dead. No, it was not possible.
I spoke to her over the weekend, and we had planned to go to the Garki city mall to watch a movie on Friday Night.
I gripped Hauwau and asked “What is this? Is she sleeping?” I wanted to believe Sa’a was sleeping.

“She was brought in here unconscious; her house help called me after raising the alarm and a kind neighbour brought her here last night.

Last night, and I was lying on my bed being cuddled by JK while my best friend was being snatched by the cold hands of death.
“What about Atiku?” I asked. “He should be here.”

Hauwau hissed and rolled her eyes. “Atiku is away in Dubai. He left yesterday night.”
She handed me a letter, and I took it from her. Something was terribly wrong, and I could feel it.

Atiku and Hauwa were two inseparable lovebirds. We were both in the same class in secondary and went on to Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. Their love had span teenage-hood to adulthood. Atiku was just a year older than Hauwau, but they had weathered the storm through thick and thin that threatened their love.

Their love story would make you never feel enamoured by Shakespeare Romeo and Juliet.
In her second year at the University, Sa’as father had gotten her a respectable husband. He was a dear friend of her father, a business mogul and she was to be his fourth wife. Sa’a fought tooth and nail with her father and faced almost being disowned but for the intervention of the Emir of the town who she ran to for help.

The intervention brought a twist to her destiny of being a fourth wife to marrying her teenage sweetheart in pomp and pageantry as the two families were Arewa socialites.
What I read in the note brought tears to my eyes.

Sa’a had contemplated suicide on discovering Atiku was having an affair with a girl ten years their junior and was planning to marry her. She was a daughter of a governor. I recognised the name when I saw it. We had one of the girls in our class in secondary school. I also remember she was a sworn enemy of Sa’a over Atiku. What one sister could not get the other has gotten it. Was it Sa’as destiny to be traumatised by this family?

I sat in the nearest available chair dejectedly.
“Is she going to make it?” I asked with an apprehension that had come to seat within my breast since I walked into the room.
The Doctors are doing all they can, but they can’t give us any assurance.

“Oh, Atiku! What have you done?” I whispered to myself.

“Is Atiku aware?”

“No, he is not. Like I told you he was off to Dubai. That I know because the house help said that much to me.”
I pulled my phone out to call him; he would most likely be roaming his number.
“What are you doing?” Hauwa asked making an effort to snatch my phone from my hand.

“Calling Atiku,” I answered what else did it look like I was doing. I fumed below my breath.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she threatened.

“Why?” I asked more baffled by the way Hauwau was handling the situation. Why so much anger and poison oozing out of her.

“You think he cares? The man is on the verge of taking another wife, and you are calling him?” she hissed.

“Taking another wife or not he would want to know about his wife near suicide attempt,” I argued stubbornly.
Hauwau laughed at my foolishness.

“You still think life is like all the – Mills and Boons you read in school. How many did you read? 100, 200 300, because I believe you have been brainwashed. What part of – there is no happily ever after in marriage are you finding it hard to believe?”
“My story,” I retorted upset with her and how callous she was being.
Tsk! Tsk!! Tsk!!! she smirked. “My dear Meena, wake up from dreamland before you find out that the carpet has been pulled from under your feet.
A groan from the bed where Sa’a lay got me rushing off to her side while Hauwau picked the phone to call the Nurses.

“

Omowashe Omorishe#23

Like a dying flower

a-dying-flower Lana

I drove around in and out of traffic for hours losing track of time. Thoughts were racing through my head till my mind was going numb. I had no plan where to go. After hours of driving with no destination, I turned into a lounge, still in the traditional buba and iro, attire I had worn for my failed introduction. I used the extra piece tied around my waist to wrap my head, covering my ears and removing all the pieces of jewellery I wore.

It was precarious to be here alone, no need to make the situation worse by drawing any attention to myself.

I had never been to a lounge. It was not my style of winding down, but tonight there was no home to go. I had sent myself on a self-exile. No friend to crash with – I did not want to add my burden to Peju’s difficult pregnancy.

Bode was not an option either. I needed to get used to having him out of my life as a fiancée. Although, he would always be in my life as a relation. Isn’t this crazy? I must have said that for the umpteenth time to myself, but there was no better word to describe what I was going through. Yeah, crazy!crappy!!creepy!!!!!

Standing at the entrance of the bar, I took a quick scan around while allowing my eyes time to adjust to the dim light. The place looked sane enough for me.
I slid into the nearest table I could find, fished for a book out of my handbag and put it on the chair, giving the appearance of having a partner. I settled to enjoy the jazz music provided by a life band.

An attendant came to take my order. I paid for a glass of Chapman making sure there was no form of alcohol in my drink. I knew from experience what a little alcohol could do to me.

I lost count of the hours that must have gone. The life band have stopped playing. I could feel the curious glances at my table, but I did not care.

Just when I was about to relax, a man staggered to my table, tried to seat and noticed the book.

“ I do not think your partner is coming tonight,” he slurred the words as he removed the book to place it on the table and dropped into the vacant seat He was drunk.

Terror gripped me. I knew I should be afraid yet I was indifferent. I was scared and not scared simultaneously. Scared, he might try to hurt me. Detached that whatever pain inflicted, would be a far cry to my bruised, broken and bleeding heart.

There were people around, but most were either half or dead drunk. I knew I should not have come here but this was the only opened place I could fit in at that time of the night, and I was not thinking.

Someone tapped the guy.
“Excuse me, gentleman, I am with the lady.”
I almost leapt and threw myself at Andrew.
The drunk was gentleman enough to stand up

“Sorry man,” he slurred and staggered away.
I looked curiously at Andrew. “What are you doing here?”

“I think that should be my cue, not yours.
I am shocked to see you here, and you came alone, he said as he scanned the place like an FBI agent.

“Bode?” I asked, and answered.

“He is not here, through no fault of his,” I said defensively.

“I am here alone, and that is a long story,” I concluded.

“We have the whole night,” he answered tightly.
I could see he was trying to calm his anger.

“Are you here to get hurt? Why would you come to a place like this alone and at night?”
I was not going on any guilt trip or allow someone send me there either.
I gestured to him to stop.

“Maybe I want to get hurt,” I muttered.
Andrew stared at me neither stunned nor upset at my words which heightened my suspicion.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Your uncle sent me,” he answered in his personal integrity.

“Uncle Segun, he knew I was here?” I whispered.

“Is my uncle in the Mafia or something or do I have a bodyguard I am not aware exists?”

I was getting furious. I needed space to process the development in my life and not interference.

“Do you want to talk?” Andrew asked.

“I do not know what I want,” I replied truthfully.
My head was beginning to hurt badly.

“Let me take you home,” Andrew offered.

“I am not going home,” I answered stubbornly.
Home was the last place I wanted to be now.

“You can’t stay here all night,” he said exasperatedly.
“What about Bode?”

“No,” I replied vehemently.

Whatever Uncle Segun had told Andrew, he did not seem to have the whole story.

“Peju?” He asked.

“She would have been my first call, but I suspect she has a difficult pregnancy. I don’t want to add to her burden.”

“You might be if I have to leave you here alone, Andrew said his jaws were tightening as I saw the lines harden around his mouth.

“I am not the one who asked you to come.
I can take care of myself, you know. I was not asking for help when you came.I could have handled that man on my own,” I argued.

“I could see that,” said Andrew nodding his head reminding me of the many fables of the agama lizard I heard as a child.

Standing up, he took the book on the table and my handbag,
“Let’s go,” he commanded in a voice I had never heard him use before, that did not welcome any argument.

We were barely outside when a part of the building came crashing down. There were rubble and dust everywhere. Screams and groans from men trapped inside the building
I was shaking all over to think that I could have been in that building had Andrew not taken me out. To think that I would have also gotten him killed.

How do you feel you do not want to live but when death comes calling you are not willing to answer and an escape puts your life in a perspective you have failed to notice.

I could hear the sirens from afar as the place became agog with lights and activity.People from neighbourhood were rushing out to the scene some to render help while others out of curiosity and a story to tell. The young men took over searching for people to help while we waited for more help from the government.
Andrew left me to join the rescue mission after making sure I was okay. And not before calling Bode to alert him what had happened.

Bode must have either flown or telepathed himself because it could not have been roughly fifteen minutes he showed up.
“Are you okay,” he asked, looking at me and then the rubble?
I knew what he was thinking.
How my foolishness would have caused pain to my family, my birth parents and friends.

“I am sorry,” was the only intelligible word I could utter while trying not to cry and be strong.

Omowashe Omorishe#17

Priceless memories

The next hours of my life were the longest.Lana slumped before me. I was hysterical as I shouted for help. The ambulance came, and the whole wedding party was in disarray as the groom and bride left their reception and followed the ambulance to the hospital.

sc2

We sat for hours at the St Nicholas hospital waiting for the Doctors to come out. While we were out, her parents and famous uncle Sege was around. I mustered a smile when I saw him. I was yet to see an uncle who was so fond of his niece like him. His devotion was beyond my imagination leaving me secretly wishing he was mine, considering that I had lost my father at a young age of six, It had been just my mother and me and since then

He seemed more agitated than even her parents. Her father was reassuring him that she would be okay.

“Lana is a fighter, she would pull through,” he said confidently. And I prayed with all my might that he was right.

Another guy rushed in. You could see he was agitated. I found out he was her boss at work.

He walked over to Peju, shook the groom and Peju fell into his embrace. All she had been doing since she came in was cry and how it was her fault. Although, we all failed to see how it could be her fault.

From the conversation he had with them, I deduced he was her boss at work. He spoke some words to her and handed her over to her husband as he took his seat beside them with a grim look on his face.

I watched the whole family and felt like an outcast, although I was the most important person to her, yet no one had this knowledge except the both of us. We were meant to be celebrating, but here I was sitting in the cold hospital with her hanging between death and life.

I walked up to her parents, and her mum and managed a smile as I said my hello.
“I did not know you were back together,” she said with pain that mirrored mine.
“Lana and I met today at Peju’s wedding. I was there when she slumped,” I explained.
“What happened?” she asked looking at me, hoping to get a clue from whatever I had to say
“We were talking, she opted to sit down saying she was tired and before I knew it. She slumped,” I narrated.

I winced, my ring was on her finger, and she was not even able to let me know if we were back together again.
Why did I have to lose, gain and lose her again,
I chided myself, to remain optimistic. She would wake up and get better.

The waiting party grew in number as another lady with her husband and a boy of five years old rushed in. She was a younger version of Lana’s mother, and I presume, it was Nekan, her older sister.

“What happened?” she asked worry etched all over her face as she joined her parents.

Her mother mumbled something I could not hear from where I was, but she nodded towards me.
The lady turned to look at me. Although, we had never met, but she seemed to recognise me. She had a surprised look on her face as she left her parents and came over to me.

I swallowed hard as I prayed the Doctor would appear with good news. The wait was getting rather too long, and heart-wrenching. I gazed over to Peju feeling sorry for how her wedding had turned out.

“Hi, my name is Nekan,” she introduced herself to me stretching her hand for a handshake.
“Hi, I am Bode Coker,” I said with as much smile I could muster.
“My mother told me you were with her when it happened,” she said looking at me with questions in her eyes.
“Yes, we were just talking, and she complained of being tired as took her seat, and the next thing she slumped,” I said. I had lost count of the number of times I had to retell the story.
“Did Lana hit hear head when she slumped, was it a hard surface, did she look pale?” she questioned.
“If you are asking if there was a sign for what was coming? There was none. We were having a regular conversation, and she complained she felt tired, I just thought it was the fatigue of the day, you know the wedding and all the running around. I raked my hands through my almost non-existent hair in frustration.

“Thank you, Bode, she will be okay. I have not spoken to her in a week, just chats over the phone. I had no idea you were back together,” she commented
“We just met today, and she was calm about it,” I offered an explanation. There was no correlation with our meeting and what happened, but it seemed like people were inferring the shock might have caused it. There was no shock, no surprise to cause a heart to fail.

“I will go and see the Medical Director. He is an old friend from medical school. We should hear something soon,” she said as she walked back to where here parents sat not without stopping to have some few words with Peju, her husband and Lana’s boss.

True to her word she came back about twenty minutes later with a Doctor who addressed us that she is calm but need a lot of rest. Her parents alone were allowed to go in while the rest of us could come back when she was sufficiently recovered to see visitors.

We all stood up to leave as her parents thanked us for coming, promising to keep us abreast with any new development and when we could come back for a visit.

Peju’s flight was for the next morning, and although she said she was thinking of cancelling the honeymoon, Lana’s mother convinced her to go ahead that Lana will be up like her usual self in no time and would be furious if she failed to travel on her account.
You could see fatigue around Peju’s eyes as her husband joked how he needed to take her to the hotel or she might be spending a night her in a room next to her friend.

Then the boss greeted us all and left not without a word of encouragement of how we all needed to be strong for her.
I was the last to leave as I stood up dejectedly, not knowing how to keep in touch. Peju who would have been my link would be away on honeymoon, asking for a family’s phone number at this time did not seem appropriate. I thought of coming back every day if I could pass the security but that option was one of uncertainty.
Fortunately, her sister was quick to catch up with me to collect my number and promised to give me an update of which I was grateful.

The coming days, I merely existed living life just going through the motions, praying and hoping for good news. All I wanted was for Lana to get better.

**********

I hear voices in the background. I recognise that of my Dad’s, and could tell he was speaking to me.
“Lana we love you and want you back to us healthy and active like your usual self. I know you can hear me.”
Then my mum’s came so soft and filled with emotion.
“My baby, I love you, please pull through for us for yourself, we cannot afford to lose you,” and she broke down in quiet sobs.
I could sense my Dad holding her, and I wanted to go and give her a hug to reassure her that I would be okay.
I was surprised to hear Nekan’s voice, and I wanted to jump out of where I was to give her a hug, but all I could do was just lie there. How did she get here? I must have missed her mentioning she was coming over. It had been a while we saw. It has been phone calls and chats and lately I had been busy.
At the sound of my Uncle Sege’s raspy voice, my heart broke. I heard my father say in the background
“Segun, you need to pull yourself together .”
I felt his touch and heard his cry as he begged me to come back. He mentioned that we both had unfinished business. He promised not to bother me anymore on marriage and to desist from sending the strings of young men to my office on the excuse of account opening.

I wanted to laugh. My uncle could still crack a joke in his desperation. I wanted to tell him I was right there with him and was not going anywhere, but the words did not come out.
My eyelids were closing, and I wanted to sleep again. I felt this constant tiredness like a dark cloak wrapped around me as I battled with sleep that was stronger than my will to stay awake. The voices faded into the background replaced with muddled, incoherent sounds as it lulled me into a state of rest that had become my new companion.

*******
I had no idea, how long I had been asleep but when I opened my eyes this time around, I could see around me. There was my favourite uncle with his big frame dozing off in the only chair in the room. He must have sensed I was awake because not too long he opened his eyes and was beside himself with joy.
“Oluwalana, he called my full name. I can’t recollect ever hearing him call my name in full. I tried to talk, but it was just a raspy noise with no words forming. I looked at him with fear and alarm in my eyes. I tried to stand up, but my body felt like lead.
“Please stay calm,” he urged as he pressed the bell for the nurse to come.
Taking my hands in his, he kept saying thank you as tears ran down his cheeks. My sleek too handsome uncle with a body built like Richard Mofe Damijo was crying brokenly like a woman who had lost her child.
Something must be terribly wrong with me. I concluded, intense terror engulfing me as I tried to recollect how I got there.

It was in this state of panic, a man, in his late fifties with grey hairs around his temple, clad in a white coat, with an air of authority and confidence strolled in. I presumed he was the doctor and could trust him, and my addled brain knew it was in my best interest to do so.

“We are glad to have you back,” he boomed in a voice that sent me ten years back to my Biology Laboratory in secondary school. Having being suspended from Biology class for refusing to dissect a dried frog with whatever instrument, we had were given. It took the intervention of Mrs Akan, the guidance and counselling teacher to convince my Biology teacher that I was not stubborn or rude, but displaying symptoms of ranidaphobia and should overlook the assignment.

It was that same voice that boomed the day I came back to class “we are glad to have you back” and the only difference was while today was genuine the later was sarcastic.

“We have run all the necessary tests, and they have all come out good. You were acutely fatigued and dehydrated but a few more days of rest and drips should get you out of here in no time. The body has a way of adjusting to itself and yours had to shut down. You were lucky it was not a heart attack or stroke,” he said reviewing the case note.

“In the future, it would be important to take time off activities for scheduled rest, vacation and spend time on things you love to do so this does not happen again,” he said kindly.

I laid down there taking all he had to say in still wondering why I could not just get out of bed and be back at home. Lying here was killing. This mode of inertia was driving me crazy, but all I did was to nod my head as my tired eyes betrayed me giving into sleep again.

I must have been in and out of sleep for days. Moreso, by the time I was able to make small talk, it was shocking to find out that I had been in the hospital for two weeks!

Fast forward to another five more days and the doctor was convinced, I could go back home but not back to work until another two weeks.
What was I supposed to be doing at home? Sitting and staring. I thrived in the fast pace and stress of work where your adrenalin was driven to all-time high so that the slow pace I was forced to embrace was more excruciating than If I was allowed to return to work.

The saying that there is always a silver lining to every cloud could not have been truer. I got time to think of my life and make some adjustments to my values and goals. One good outcome was my second chance at love and unashamedly enjoying the attention I received from Bode.
He was at the hospital every day after work as soon as I was allowed to receive visitors and at my parent’s place upon my discharge.
He had not changed one bit as he was more doting on me, probably because of my health which had made me closer to an invalid. The icing on the cake was it helped to take my mind off my present state.

I must have forgotten what it meant to be bitten by the love bug. This time, around I threw caution to the wind. I did not want to second guess every move or word I just wanted to flow to the rhythm of love being played by Bode and enjoy the second chance being handed over to me.

The clouds were bluer, the rainbow, colourful and the sun brighter than it had ever been and my life could not have been any better. I vowed not to waste any time wallowing in self-pity at the time I had lost but to savour every moment I had.

Bode’s love was one substantial factor that saw to my fast recovery and six weeks after my compulsory leave of work I was fit to return.

**********

My first day at the work was an emotional one as my colleagues had balloons around my table with a “welcome back” banner. There were kind words and hugs. These are people who had taken time out to check on me, send text messages and calls.
Andrew had been understanding. He had a word of encouragement every day as soon as I was able to pick my phone. Although he rarely came by to the hospital, I learnt he was there, the first day I was brought in.

Peju who had been shuttling between office, my house and hers was warned by my mother not to come by anymore and focus her attention on her new home. The morose look on her face the day she received the riot act would have won her an Oscar and put Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, to shame.

However, we made up the time with loads of chats going back and front on our cell phones since my house was a no go area for her.

We were both filled with ecstasy to be back together. I could not wait to be filled up with all the loads of “kongosa” our secret code for first class gossip, I had missed.

My love for juicy titbits in any form; pas,t present and future, was one of my few weaknesses. The moment we were off work we made out time to catch up on each other’s lives that missed the chat room on our cell phones.
Peju kept apologising as to how she was so sorry to have invited Bode over. I had already gotten tired of telling her over and over again that she was not responsible for what happened. I was neither overly excited nor furious at seeing Bode that day, to have caused the fiasco that followed, rather, it was just two friends catching up on what they have lost due to one’s foolishness and a little meddling from some unhelpful quarters. I am glad for where I am right now and if I had the power to recreate the scene I could not have done a better job.
I drew her into a warm hug.

“Thanks for bringing us together and not paying attention to me. It would not have happened without you,” I said.
And there Peju was smiling from ear to ear with so much self-righteousness as she smugly said,“I told you, you would eat humble pie.”

“Your boast almost cost me my life,” I teased her loving the look of remorse stealing over her face.

“I thought you said it had nothing to do with it,” she complained.

“Yes it did not, but I hate the look of triumph on your face and the fact that I have to agree you were right.You have tortured yourself too long, and someone had to deliver you from this guilt. Not to add the miserable honeymoon you had,” I pointed out.

Peju did cut short her honey moon when Phil was tired of her moaning about how she had no clue as to if I was getting better or worse. It must have worked for him too, because as soon as they were back in the country, he was off to Dubai, back to his project.

My house became Peju’s second home until my mum banished her to her matrimonial home with no knowledge that Phil had abandoned his bride for work who had equally abandoned her honeymoon for her near dying friend.
Luckily they had planned another honeymoon in a couple of weeks, and Peju had warned me up front not to pull any stunts as this time around she would feel no guilt if they had to bury me while she was away.

We would have been there in our usual fashion chatting away at everything and nothing if Bode had not come to whisk me away.
He said a friendly hello to Peju, who was smiling rather stupidly like one suffering from dementia as he planted a kiss on my cheek. I rolled my eyes at her.
“I got to go, you both are making me regret cutting my honeymoon short,” she teased winking at me.

“Do you have something in your eyes Peju? I asked her holding back my laughter

” Yeah, must be an insect,” she answered sweetly with her eyes shooting daggers my way.

” Bye, see you tomorrow, I replied as went off with Bode

I could not be more grateful to be still alive. Nonetheless, I still shudder with horror when I remember the catastrophe I caused by disrupting Peju’s wedding reception and honeymoon.