I Am Poetry

By Arinze Ifi.

There can be no poetry where truth is absent. Science speak about facts and rationale, poetry speaks about truth…which is validated by the fluidity of expression, laden with intent so sincere, so true.

Poetry, like truth will not be discerned with fine logic, but by simple understanding the heart it deciphers.

Poetry appeals to the conscience, for that is the place of truth. She need not be refined, neither well organised…she knows her way home, and the choice of how to get there is her prerogative.

As misleading as would be judging character with dress sense, so it is with charming words and poetry. Charming words are calculated whereas poetry is spontaneous; charming words aim to impress whereas poetry aims to express; charming words pay compliment to ego, whereas poetry pays her compliments to nature; charming words are viscous whereas poetry flows through…

In all of my search for peace and tranquil, the abstractions from which I attempt to mould my perfect bliss comes not from anything else but poetry: that mindful expression, visible only to the mind’s eye and leading to the pathway of truth.

The Admonition

Come to me thou fairest of ladies
For I need thee now
I am frail and weak
The weight of the world is my burden
And the shackles of time, my bond
My wings are clipped
And gravity has me glued to the earth
How I long to soar with the angels
Even as they beckon unto me
Their eyes filled with satisfaction
Of all I hope for

Be patient my love, she said
For good things come to those who wait
And the best for those
Who never settle for less
The moon never appears at daylight
Nor the sun at night
Do not be bowled over by the angels
Or for what thou seest in their pretty eyes
For beyond the glow are invisible tears
And pain well hidden

The forces hold you down
For your time is not yet come
You must learn how to walk
You must learn to run like a gazelle
Before you may take flight
Some are born with perfect wings
Others grow them with time
Each man has a journey
As unique and as different as a thumb print
Be useful as you await your map
For like others, it will lead you home

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXXIV)

18th April, 2013.
2: 00am

“My God! Mickey, what happened to you?!” Christy exclaimed, her hands flying to cover her mouth. She looked incredibly sexy in her semi-transparent nighties. Her hair was hidden beneath the colourful scarf she had on. There was genuine shock and worry in her eyes. I felt flattered to see that she still cared. Her heart had to be made of stone if she didn’t any way because at this particular point, I was a sight for sore eyes. My shirt was badly torn, I had a bad bump on my head that had some caked blood on it; my upper lip was badly cut and I could still taste my blood every now and then.

“Chris, whatever happened to me is irrelevant right now. All that matters is that I’m alive and I’m here…right now.” I said desperately.

“Come inside. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She said holding my hand and leading me inside. I finally got the info I’d been seeking; thanks to Clarisse. I had to call her and plead with her to hear me out. After much talk, she gave me the address of Christy’s new hideout – her cousin’s place in VGC.
…………………………….

The events that led me to that evening was one I never thought could ever happen. I had managed to escape Nike’s clutches after a wild night at her place. I justified my actions on the grounds that I owed her one and that it would be my last act of infidelity should things go as I planned.

I made extensive plans over the weekend to devise the most romantic way to recapture Christy’s heart. I chose to use the information I gathered to my advantage. I had spent the whole day bombarding her with emails, hand written notes begging her forgiveness. I wrote her streams of poetry which I knew she loved. I sent gifts to her at intervals at the office, making sure I littered her desk with gifts of penance.

I couldn’t have done any of this without my mole in her office, John. I gave him a call informing him of my clandestine location around her office premises where I had mounted a stakeout in the hopes of getting a glimpse of her. He was delighted to see me and the fact that I had a good bottle of his favorite Vodka waiting for him cleared whatever awkward feeling there might have been. He updated me on all that had transpired since the break-up. He told me about the scene she had with Kunle when he wouldn’t stop coming to the office.

Christy now suspected that something had gone on between him and Kemi and I had figured that would be the case when I made my confession about the video. The fact that Kemi was now regarded as a “relationship spoiler” made my chances look even better. I was convinced that there may still be a chance to salvage what was left.

I arranged with Tunde to appear at her branch to open up an account with her bank. He was to strike up a conversation with her that would lead them to making an arrangement for a brief beach outing after work that day. It would be a tough request but I knew she would oblige him. She liked Tunde a lot and if he requested catch-up time, she would never say no. Also, in the event that she asked of my whereabouts, he was to tell her that I had taken a 3 day leave of absence to attend the funeral of a childhood friend.

There was a particular spot where I and Christy always stood whenever we went to the beach. It gave us a breathtaking view of the Atlantic and at the right time, you could actually see the sun set. It was picture perfect. When I told Tunde that was where I intended to pop the question, he smiled and patted me on the back and said with a hilariously avuncular air, “I taught you well son.” Not before he warned me of what a bruise a refusal would do to my ego though.

However, most times things never go as planned.

I had prepared my mind that there were three possible outcomes; an outright refusal, a request for time to consider it or if all went well, an excited “yes”. I prayed it would be the latter. Tunde alerted Ifeanyi and Tuoyo as to what I was planning to do. They all knew the story so they wanted to be there to laugh at me should the worst happen and then console me. I didn’t care though. I was convinced that something drastic was needed and this was the best I could come up with.

Tunde gave me regular progress updates after he and Christy had met and discussed. She seemed glad at the prospect of hanging out with him after work but she didn’t ask of me. Not once did she act like I existed even when Tunde alluded to time past. He was alarmed about this as much as I was. Apparently the notes, mails and gifts I sent to soften her up a bit had not produced the desired result. I began to wonder about the what Clarisse and John had told me. Were they exaggerating my chances?

I shrugged off all fears and decided to push on. I realized that since I conceived the idea on how to get Christy back, I hadn’t really been sleeping or eating well for the past two days as I was as anxious as I was excited. It finally began to take its toll on me. When Tunde updated me that Christy was getting off from work quite late, I decided to nap a bit knowing he would handle all that needed to done. Thank God Amaka had traveled to be with her mom who hadn’t been feeling to well for some time or else she would have had my head on a plate for making her husband stay out so late.

Well, I overslept. I had dozed off around 6pm hoping to sleep for an hour but I woke with a start around 10: 12pm . I had slept so deep that I didn’t even realized it rained. My phone had over 12 missed calls and several messages, all from Tunde. I called him immediately.

“Guy, na wa for you oh! Where did you drop your phones?!” He said with relief.

“If I tell you what happened, you won’t believe. Do you know that I slept off?” I said honestly.

“You slept off?!” He asked in disbelief.

“Immediately after we spoke the last time. I thought I’d just sleep for an hour. I didn’t even know it rained.”

“Does this mean you’re still at home?” He asked alarmed.

“I’m just about leaving the house now.”

“Christy is already on her way to the beach oh. You better get your arse down here!” He roared angrily.

“Cool down bros. I dey come.” I said laughing.

I washed my face and changed my clothes in record time. I made sure the little suede box was in my pocket before I dashed into my car and drove like a maniac. Luckily, I was against the traffic so movement wasn’t so terrible and it cleared up as I approached the bridge. I was doing 110km/h when I came upon a bad spot on the bridge with those loose metals. I cut down speed and swerved – thank God for abs – and partially avoided it but it punctured my right back tire.

I swore under my breath. This couldn’t be happening!

I stopped the car, well aware that the spot was a dangerous place to be at that time of the night. I assessed the damage and considered whether to change the tire or manage it but I didn’t want to damage the rims. I called Tunde and told him about my unfortunate situation. He laughed and told me the elements were against me today as Christy was about to head home and he couldn’t hold her back much longer as she had to prepare for work the next day. He told me he was sending Tuoyo and Ifeanyi to come and assist me.

When I cut the call, I opened the trunk of my car and looked inside. As I contemplated on how to start, that was when I heard the voices. I looked on and saw three burly “agberos” walking towards me from the little Road Safety shack on the bridge. I didn’t even suspect anybody would be there by this time. As they drew nearer, so did the pungent aroma of marijuana. I was in trouble!

“Iwo ati moto tuntun e! Olorun ti mu o loni!!” I heard a coarse voice say. I gripped my wheel spanner and held it behind me.

“Chairmen, una well done oh!” I said respectfully but they ignored me. I observed them closely. The one who spoke had an open bottle of Alomo Bitters which he sipped at intervals as he eyed me maliciously. He was as black as the night and he wore a dirty red windbreaker which matched with colour of his eyes. The other two wore matching white t-shirts which had seen better days but they all matched each other in height and stature. The one on the left stubbornly smoked at the tip of what was left of the blunt. There was no way he wasn’t smoking part of the two fingers that held the blunt as well.

“Funmi lowo!” Red windbreaker growled.

“I nor dey hear Yoruba.” I said quietly as they advanced towards me. I kept my hands behind me. My wheel spanner was wet from the sweat in my palm.

Red windbreaker nodded his head softly which I saw as a sort of signal and my body tensed. His henchmen flew at me and knocked me into the open trunk of my car. The wheel spanner clattered uselessly to the floor. As they struggled to put me inside the trunk, my free right foot lashed out at the jaw of the first guy and I heard a snap before the scream as he fell to the floor. The other assailant took one glance at his hurt comrade and rained battering punches on me. I shielded my head as my left hand now freed from the clutches of the other, searched desperately for anything metal to hold as I struggled to get out of the trunk. I grabbed something which wasn’t metal but I bashed his head with it anyway and got a temporary respite as I forced my way out of the trunk.

Red windbreaker watched all this with an amusing expression on his face. He paid no attention to his comrade whose jaw I just broke as he writhed on the floor, clutching his mouth in agony. He just wrapped a big chain around his fist as he prepared for me.

“Oh, you motherfuckers! You just pissed me off!!” I said angrily as I tasted the blood on my lips, bouncing and taking a karate stance. I was lucky they didn’t have a gun.

“Bring it on!”

The white t-shirt guy lunged at me in rage, taking a wild swing which I blocked with my left hand and gave him a karate chop on his neck followed by a firm punch with my right to his sternum. I didn’t get the desired result but he staggered backwards and I followed immediately with a straight kick that connected perfectly with his jaw.

“Mogbe!” He yelled in pain as he stumbled and fell. Red windbreaker swung his long heavy metal chain at me with ease and I ducked just in time but it grazed the top of my head, drawing blood. The pain was unbelievable but I had to stay focused because these men would certainly kill me if they bested me. I picked up the wheel spanner as he tried to swing the chain again and danced away from reach. The first guy I’d broken his jaw was up but I swung the wheel spanner and connected with his head and he dropped like dead game without so much as a grunt.

The whole time of this brawl, I noticed two cars pass but they picked up speed as soon as they realized what was happening and left me to my fate. It was the car that drove in from the Marina on the wrong side of the bridge that saved me. As the headlights zoomed in on us, Red Windbreaker took to his heels, leaving behind his comrades. The guy with the broken jaw was out cold but the other scrambled to his feet and followed suit.

“Cowards!” I yelled. I leaned against the car gratefully and caught my breath. I kicked the unconscious dude on the floor in anger but he didn’t respond. The wheel spanner had done a good job. They met the wrong customer today. Tuoyo and Ifeanyi were out of the car, sprinting as they saw the sprawled form of my assailant on the floor.

“Shit man! Na you knock this guy out?!” Tuoyo asked with shock.

“E nor learn karate for nothing.” Ifeanyi responded with awe. I was too drained to say anything.

“Guys, abeg my tyre.” I said tiredly, pointing to my punctured tyre. Tuoyo hurriedly went to work while I and Ifeanyi kept watch, wary of reprisals. We were at the Marina in 15 minutes and as we approached Elegushin beach, my phone rang. It was Tunde.

“Dude, how far? I tried my best to hold her back oh. It didn’t work; she just drove out now.” He said apologetically.

Damn!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Finding Balance

The heart yearned for its mirror image
A feminine reflection of self
The eyes that would see through mine
And from who’s, I’d draw strength
To counter the delirious weakness
A direct result of awe at perfection
Over time and space continuum
Like silent wishes and prayers
Made at the dash of a shooting star
You were made many years ago
Different from me as I was from you
But made to go through fire
As was I, to fulfill demands of refinement
Walking the tracks of smoldering coal
Moulded at the hands of experience
That revealed our intertwined paths

You were a dream I could only whisper
Sweet, lofty, ephemeral, unattainable
Dissolving into smoke with each grasp
So frustrating
As time and time again
I relapsed to contentment with reality
But the fire only waned
It was never put out
Whiffs of you from a distance
Was enough to rekindle hopes
Hopes so frail, yet so strong
Like Canaries, we sang to each other
With each song came conviction
That breached time and space

A new purpose is set now
The course has been charted
The plan has been altered to fit two
Uncertainty means not much
For certainly, we now walk together
Friends, lovers and partners
Creating paths out of Daedalus’ labyrinth
To the ultimate goal
For which we live and breathe!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXXIII)

April 13th, 2013.
05: 32am.

I got my three days leave approved later in the evening, thanks to Nike’s persistence and influence. She made it known that I owed her and she was going to collect, seeing that it was a weekend. I was so glad that I didn’t mind. I decided to give her a treat by taking her to the cinema to see a movie on saturday but she wanted my friday as well. Malik was so jealous that he made no attempt to hide it. He even went as far as passing a snide comment about banging management to curry special favours. He could be such a douchebag at times.

Nike and I left the office separately some few minutes after 8pm after we agreed that I’d leave my car behind. I left first and went to a bar close by so she could meet me up there as my boss was still very much around. She met me up a “bottle of red wine” later. She insisted we head over to her place in Lekki which was not too far from where the office was and movement was against traffic. She wanted to freshen up for the evening. Luckily, I always had a spare change of clothes in my car so I agreed it was a good idea. I strolled back to the office garage and retrieved a small duffel bag I always kept for such emergencies and she picked me up outside the gate.

I knew where her place was as I had driven her there before but I had never gone inside. I didn’t want to but now that we did, I was impressed. She stayed in one of those expensive gated estates that had massive security protocols. She got me through the first without so much as a question from the heavily muscled, mean-looking guards that would have intimidated me any day. In fact, they were so deferential to her that I even detected a little awe in their faces when they looked at me. She was indeed the iron lady.

She drove into a brilliantly lighted mini-city with trees decorating the streets. This was one of the things that constantly surprises me about Lagos. I know what the state is capable of but it still surprised me a lot when I came to such places. The first thought that crossed my head was that this was an ideal place to raise a family. I wondered how much it would cost to own a house here. I needed to up my game!

“We are here.” Nike said cheerily jolting me back to the present. She had just driven into a flowered compound that held two parking spaces. Her new SUV, a BMW X6 was still under the tarpaulin. She had told me about it when she returned from Kenya but had never used it. The Toyota Camry went to the empty space.

“Nice place to live, this estate.” I said with admiration.

“You like it?” She asked smiling.

“I do. Very much.” Stepping out of the car, the air smelled different. It was scented with the pleasant aroma of all sorts of wide flowers. Very unlike the densely polluted Lagos air I was so used to.

“I hear one of the houses here will be coming up for sale real soon.” She said as she searched her bag for her keys.

“Really? Any idea how much?” I asked.

“I’ll find out. You want to buy?” She asked quite surprised.

“Wouldn’t mind if I could. ” I replied. “Just want to have an idea of how much it. Some of my friends may be interested as well.”

She opened her doors and led the way to a tastefully furnished apartment that any man worth his style would be proud of. From her exquisite leather seats, thick rug, pink-flowered curtains that matched the sparkling chandelier that hung on the ceiling, larva lamp, aquarium, ceramic urns to her monster HD TV screen.

“So what can I offer you? I remember you have an affinity for Jack.” She said, smiling coyly referring to last encounter.

“Jack is good.” I said smiling back, knowing at that point that we wouldn’t be going out anytime soon. She brought out a fresh bottle and handed it to me to break the seal. When I had done that, I poured a shot inside the two glasses she set before me. She swallowed hers in a gulp and made a funny sound that made me laugh.

“I felt that! Now I know why you take it straight.” She exclaimed laughing.

“Its not the best every time though. Especially if you’re having more than a couple of shots.” I said, sipping on mine. There was a curious gaze on her face as she observed me.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” I asked, mildly surprised.

“Nothing. I’m just glad you came with me. I had the idea that you never wanted to visit me here, especially as you made clear that you didn’t want me to visit.” She said.

“Well, you know why.”

“Yeah. Your girl…or is it girls?” She winked mischievously.

“Whatever.” I said laughing. I finished my drink.

“Let me show you around.” She said sweetly. She could tell by this time that I liked what I saw.

“Ok.” I said, shrugging. She took my hand and led me to the kitchen. You know those kitchens you see on MTV Cribs? Hers was straight out of it. A well-stocked double fridge attached to the wall, cabinets of polished hard wood, sparkling utensils that seem to never have been used, marble floors and walls…it was all too much. What young, hustling man wouldn’t feel intimidated by all this. My respect for her skyrocketed.

“So what do you think?” She asked.

“What do I think? I’m amazed…overwhelmed. You’ve got mad style and you certainly know how to live it up.” I said sincerely.

She smiled shyly looking very pleased. “I don’t get to cook much though. I wish I had the time…or someone to cook for.” Her voice dropped as her face did.

A strong wave of emotions gripped me. It was a mixture of pity and sadness at how empty and lonely her life must be. She was an independent woman; strong and successful on the outside but yearning for something deep and passionate behind her shell of corporate success.

I held her face in my hands and kissed her. Her response was instantaneous; it was like she expected my reaction to her words. Her tongue was on fire as she took over the initiative and stung my lips with hot kisses, violently probing my mouth and sucking at my tongue, leaving me breathless. As I held on to her back, she acrobatically jumped on me, wrapping her legs around my waist with automatic precision. I held on to her while kissing her lips, her neck line, nibbling her ear lobes, kissing the fleshy part of her chest while she moaned.

As things fired up, she tore at my shirt ripping off two buttons in the heat of the moment. The light sounds of the buttons as they bounced on the marble floor made me realise how quiet the house was. The rest of my clothing came off with ease as I struggled with hers. I was stark naked with my cock hard and throbbing while I struggled to get her off hers. She laughed at my urgency and assisted me in undressing her as bare as I was. Our hurriedly dispatched clothes was a blight on the tidy kitchen.

I ravished her breasts with my mouth as she somehow continued to stroke my hardness, making me lose my mind. I lifted her to the polished wood and when I entered her, she was well lubricated and shuddered with delight as the whole of me slid into her with minimal interference. As our synchronized movements became feverish and more animalistic, I felt the pressure build and withdrew immediately, eager to deliver a sterling performance on away ground.

I lifted her from the table and told her to point the way to her bedroom. She giggled and showed the way. We both knew that this was our destination all along…

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Turning Tables (XI)

“I’m proud of you man.” Max was telling me. “So you’re finally going to settle down. That’s good. Really good.” He said beaming.

“Yeah. I’ve never been surer of anything. I’m at a really good place in my life right now.” I said feeling different. I had never seen a happier Bola since the morning I proposed. It was quite a joy to watch the unconscious smile on her lips and the adoration in her eyes when she looked at me. I felt lucky.

When I called my mom to tell her about the engagement, she sighed with resignation; all hopes of her match-making gone to flames but she was happy. I had hoped that she would get off my back with talk of grand kids and such. How wrong I was! After trying unsuccessfully to pry with guile if Bola was already pregnant, she came out straight and asked.

“Mom, she’s not pregnant.” I said patiently.

“Why?” She asked, surprised.

“What do you mean by ‘why’?” I asked, not too surprised at her insistence. I knew what was coming next.

“How do you know she can bear children then?” She asked seriously.

“Is she not a woman? That’s what women do – bear children.” I said, toying with her.

My mother sighed disappointed before she continued. “Stop acting like a child who is unaware. Don’t you know that before you purchase goods in the market, you must properly examine them to be sure you got a good bargain?”

I burst into a fit of laughter as my mother spoke. She sounded so serious. “Mom, this is marriage; not a commercial transaction.”

“What will you say after a year and she doesn’t give me a grandchild?” She asked relentlessly.

“Ah! So all you care about is your grandchild?”

“I don’t have much left to hope for in this life. My grandchildren are the last satisfaction I’ll gain in what’s left of my life. And you know I will not always be around.”

“Oh c’mon mommy! You’ll live forever. Stop acting like you’ll be no more. You’re the strongest woman I know.” I said, chiding her gently.

“I’m not going to live forever, oh. Hmmm, aburom mmuo.” She said.

“Stop being pessimistic now, eh…mommy?”

She sighed and didn’t speak about the issue further. We went on to discuss about arrangements to visit Bola’s parents and other ancilliary matters after which she advised me to be careful. We both knew specifically what she was talking about but didn’t draw the matter any further.

I was a bit uneasy after the call because it brought back the nagging worry that there was still a lose end. I hated loose ends because they had a habit of coming back to bite you in the arse when you least expected it. I could take all the precautions in the world but it still wouldn’t be as certain as knowing what your ill-wisher had in mind for you. Well, I found out soon enough.

It happened two days after I returned from formal introductions with Bola’s parents. We chose the weekend for convenience. I had gone with Alex, an old childhood friend I hardly saw because of the Lagos hustle, Gbenga – a work colleague, my cousin Emeka and of course, Max to Ogun State where Bola’s parents resided. It was a cheerful affair and Dr. And Mrs. Walter Okikiola proved to be a handful pair. They seemed to complete each others sentences as the never-ending questions came on and on. A few of Bola’s uncles, cousins and family friends were present but her granny – who spoke queen’s English was the star of the day as she kept fussing over me, telling me what a nice looking chap I was.

Dr. Walter Okikiola was a consultant gynaecologist who had a very successful private practice in Ogun State. I began to understand why he wanted Bola to follow in his steps. Mrs. Evelyn Okikiola was a branch manager with one of the old generation banks. They had three daughters and I finally met the other two; Ola, a journalist and Temi, an engineering student in Babcock University. They were a happy family and I was glad we would be joining forces soon.

Bola came back to Lagos on Monday morning as she was on the evening shift. I didn’t get to see her because I had already left for work but we talked for hours on the phone as she regaled me with tales of what transpired after I had left with my entourage. I promised I’d pick her up when her shift ended at 6pm if I didn’t get the chance to stop by. My day was already looking to be a very busy one as I had to visit the site and meet clients, make payments and purchases.

It was around 4pm that I found some time for myself. I decided to surprise her figuring she wouldn’t be expecting me till much later. When I drove into the hospital premises, she was at the entrance with several colleagues. Her face lit up at once as she saw my car. As I parked, her colleagues dispersed as she left them and walked towards me.

“What are you doing here by this time?” She asked, quite glad to see me. She gave me a hug and a peck.

“I just had some spare time and thought I’d see my baby.” I said, holding her tightly.

“Grandma has called twice already today asking about you. You better call her.” I laughed, recalling how fussy she was.

“I will. In fact, let me call her now…” I stopped short as I saw the familiar figure of Lola walking towards us. She was dressed in casual jeans and a t-shirt with a fanciful leather hand glove and a red scarf for her hair. Her hand bag was strapped to her shoulders which she looked into from time to time She didn’t look too well. Bola saw my gaze and turned; I heard her catch her breath.

“Your ex.” She whispered.

“I know baby. Just wait for me here, let me see what she wants.” I said softly. She nodded. I walked towards Lola and stopped when she got close.

“Tony.” She said, smiling at me. A smile that still had traces of shock and bore a hint of malice.

“Lola.” I said, keeping my face expressionless.

“I didn’t know I’d meet you here.” She said, shuffling her feet.

“Neither did I.” I said quietly. She regarded me for a few seconds.

“Congratulations on your engagement.” She didn’t do much to hide the bitterness in her voice.

I hid my surprise well. She had been doing a good job of keeping tabs on me. “Thank you.” I said.

“I wanted to congratulate her too for stealing my man.” She said maliciously and loud enough for Bola to hear.

“Your man?” I sighed in exasperation. “Does Joy know you’re here?” I asked as I began to scroll through my address book to find Joy’s number.

She was fast but I was watching her the whole time. She pushed me aside suddenly and bolted towards Bola who had been resting on my car watching us intently. Bola straightened up defiantly as she saw Lola approach. I reached out and caught her right hand which held something that I didn’t see on time. I jerked her backwards roughly and the little bottle she held spilled on my right hand and parts of my shirt.

I watched in horror as the liquid fried the skin on my hand and created black holes which dug their way to my chest, on the spots it came in contact with my shirt. The speed at which my skin deteriorated as it came in contact with the odious liquid was amazing! Lola and Bola screamed simultaneously!

Knowing what the contents of the bottle was, I ignored the pain temporarily and knocked it off Lola’s hands. She seemed shocked at the fact that my skin was burning as she stared hopelessly. The little bottle smashed on the floor releasing what was left of its contents. A little smoke design rose from the shards of the broken bottle. Bola was screaming for the hospital security, two of them were sprinting with amazing agility towards us. Lola knelt close to me, crying and saying “I’m sorry” over and over again.

I hurriedly peeled off my burning shirt, ignoring the searing pain on my hands. Bola by this time had gripped Lola’s hair after discarding her red scarf and was raining blows all over her body totally berserk. It was a quite a frightful picture of her in her nursing outfit beating the shit out of Lola. The security guards managed to pull Bola off who was in tears as she struggled out of their grip and ran towards me.

“Baby, I’m so sorry…what kind of madness is this?” She wept as she examined my hands. By this time, there was quite a crowd outside watching the unexpected spectacle. Bola’s colleagues rushed to my side and led me inside the hospital. As we got to the entrance, a gurney was waiting where I was told to lie on immediately and my acid-burned hands were put on ice. There were a couple of blotches on my chest. Bola caught up with the gurney and continued to weep at my disfigured hand.

“Its alright, baby. I’ll be okay.” I said, smiling amidst the pain, trying to soothe her. She nodded through her tears. I smiled and closed my eyes. At least, I was able to save her. I became conscious of the familiar smell of the hospital and laughed at myself. I was here again, thanks to Lola!

Translations:
*aburom mmuo – I’m not a spirit.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXXII)

April 12, 2013.
11: 23pm

“You’ve been avoiding me.” I heard Nike’s voice say.

“What?” I said looking up. She was wearing a grey skirt suit with a black blouse. Her short skirt gave a generous view of her light skinned and spotless legs. She looked stunning as always.

“No, I’m not. Just got a lot on my mind lately.” I said. I was sitting in the cafeteria having a cup of coffee as I went through the morning’s paper. I woke up feeling chills and a bit slow so I figured some caffeine in the system would help. I was so engrossed in what I was reading that I didn’t bother to look up when I heard the clack-clack of her heels in the tiled floor until she spoke.

She pulled a chair and sat close, staring at me. I could feel her eyes on me but I chose not to react. When she saw I wasn’t willing to say anything, she spoke.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asked. I looked up from my paper.

“How?”

“You’ve been avoiding me…”

“I…” I tried to cut in but she wouldn’t have it.

“… And don’t say you haven’t. I know when someone doesn’t want to talk to me. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

I sighed and leaned back on my seat. It was a few minutes past 8am and the buzz of office activity was just picking up. I was hoping to get a few moments of quiet before attacking the files on my desk but it wasn’t to be.

“You promised me we’d hangout and I’ve been waiting for you but it seems you’re not interested any more.” She continued, visibly agitated. I remembered that we’d spoken a few times since she returned from Kenya and I only made the offer for us to hang out on the premise that she would head back before we had a chance. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be heading back any time soon so unconsciously, I’d been avoiding her.

“Its not that.” I said.

“Then what is it? You’ve never even dropped by my office to say hi…when we’re at meetings, you totally ignore me…after such meetings, you disappear before I have a chance to recover…”

“A close friend died.” I said, cutting her short. I watched as her expression went from sadness to shock, then sympathy. I was even surprised how those words came out from my mouth. I had received word last week about the passing on of a former neighbour. We weren’t that close but he was a cool dude.

“I’m so sorry.” She said taking my hand with genuine care in her eyes. I gave her most solemn look as I nodded sadly.

“Were you close?” She asked, her voice laden with concern.

“Like brothers.” I lied, soaking up her sympathy greedily and putting up my most mournful face. She drew her seat and closer and caressed my back.

“I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me? I feel so insensitive coming here complaining. What can I do to make it better?” She asked.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be ok.” I said unconvincingly.

“Come on, just tell me…I’ll do anything.” She insisted in the most sincere way that I found sweet.

I hesitated. “I wouldn’t mind a few days off. I’d like to travel to pay my respects. I took a few days off last month so I know it may seem awkward asking for another this month.”

“Done.” She said smiling and caressing my hands. I managed to smile back when on the inside, I felt like bursting. She was a darling of the director and besides, she once headed the HR Department so she still had a lot of clout there.

“Thank you, Nike.” I said gratefully caressing her hands when Malik barged into the cafeteria.

“Dude, what are you doing here…” He stopped when her saw Nike and I holding hands.

“Morning Nike.” He said, his voice sounding a bit stuffed as he attempted miserably to hide a smirk. She withdrew her hands from mine immediately and stood up.

“Malik.” She nodded before left the cafe. Malik waited for her get out of ear shot before he spoke.

“Mickey, Mickey!” He said, grinning mischievously. He sat down where she had just left and leaned back and surveyed my smiling face.

“What’s this smile for? Was she proposing to you?” He asked, laughing.

“Nope. I just got a few days off.” I said, grinning from ear to ear like a satisfied Cheshire cat, totally impressed with myself.

“How? You took a few days off like a month ago. Director no go even consider you at all till next year, wallahi!” He said.

“We shall see.” I said smiling confidently. “Why were you looking for me?”

“There’s a guy who wants to see you. He’s been at the waiting area for the past ten minutes.” He said excitedly. “People are saying he’s that Nigerian basket baller who plays in the NBA.”

“Huh?” I was dumbfounded.

“Suzanne is all over him right now.” He said laughing. I didn’t believe a word of what Malik said but I poured what remained of my coffee away and rushed towards my office with Malik struggling to keep up. Would that dude have the nerve to show his face here, I wondered.

I got to the waiting area in front of my office but the long chair was empty, so was the rest of my section. I felt cold rage grip me. Did he enter my office uninvited? I didn’t even look back to ask Malik where he was. I opened the door with anger expecting to see his intimidating form looking around my private space and tampering with my property but my office was just as I had left it.

I sighed in relief because I had no idea how I was going to react. I wasn’t sure that I would be able to stop myself from smashing my fist into his face. As I took some time to calm and regain my composure, I heard his infuriating baritone call my name.

“Well, if it isn’t the non-dancing Michael Jackson where he ekes out a living.” He said with derision.

I closed my fist regretfully, wishing we could just settle this thing he had for me with our fists once and for all. I turned around and looked at him. Suzanne and Phoebe, both basketball afficionados were fussing around him, giggling with such adoration that I found extremely silly. Malik and a few other colleagues barged into my office snapping away with their phones, tablets and iPads.

“You have a very bad habit of popping in places where you’re not wanted, don’t you Kunle?” I said quietly as I strode to my seat.

“Oh, I think I’m wanted here.” He smiled at Suzanne and Phoebe who both giggled foolishly. Malik who had been watching with surprise moved into the office and extended his hand to Kunle.

“I’m Malik. I’m Mickey’s friend and most trusted colleague.” He said shamelessly.

I shook my head in disgust. He was a star and those who had seen him on TV never failed to remind him what a star he was. He shook hands with Malik while he gave me a ridiculous look.

“Would you excuse your groupies now? I haven’t got all day.” I said, switching on my laptop.

He sighed regretfully at Sue and Phoebe and bade them farewell. They blushed and giggled like kids who just got candy; it was infuriating. As the little crowd exited my office, Malik stayed on.

“You too.” I said, nodding to Malik.

“Come on!” He exclaimed disappointedly. He headed for the door and stopped when he stood next to Kunle. It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen. Malik was about 5’7 and looked like a Lilliputian where Kunle stood.

“I’ll be honoured to give you a tour of the office when you’re done here.” He said in his most patronizing tone.

“Malik!” I called again and he skipped out of my office shutting the door respectfully. Kunle watched all this with amusement on his face.

“Interesting people you work with.” He remarked.

“What do you want now?” I asked exasperated. “You don’t seem to have an ounce of respect for other people’s privacy.”

“Aren’t you going to offer me a seat.” He asked.

“Sit down if you want to and get on with it.” I said impatiently.

“Why are you being so mean to me? Ok, I took Çhristy from you but not many guys do that and provide you with a soft landing cushion, eh?” He said, grinning knowingly, and sitting down across my desk.

I raised my eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

He leaned forward and smiled. “I’m talking about Chloe my man! You think I dunno you’ve been hitting that?”

“Hitting what? Dude, some of us actually have to work for a living…not chase a leather ball around so if you don’t mind…” I said.

“Ouch!” He said leaning back. He looked at me for a while in silence. “Ok man, you win. Whatever I had with Christy, you’ve destroyed.” He said, sighing.

It was my turn to be amused. I was exceedingly glad at this but I told myself not to trust this dude.

“Boo-hoo. So you’ve come to cry to me.” I said with disdain. He smiled.

“You’re still mad at me. With good reason too.” He said.

“Oh, I’m overjoyed with you.” I said with sarcasm. He stood up.

“I won’t take up more of your time. She didn’t send me here but I know she still loves you.” He paused and looked at me. I was flipping through some papers without seeing them as my heart thumped like it was going to jump out of my chest. I was acting like I wasn’t interested in what he was saying but my ears were working at full capacity.

“I’m just trying to show good faith here. I care about her and I just want to be sure that you’ll treat her right…”

“Get out.” I said quietly, looking up at him. He stared at me for a few seconds, smiled and left. I leaned back on my chair and smiled from the bottom of my heart in a long time.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Turning Tables (X)

“Good morning beautiful.” I said smiling.

Bola shifted lazily on the bed and mumbled something inaudible and continued to sleep with the sheets barely covering her incredible nudity. I stood for a while to admire the reflection of the sun on her polished brown skin, the undulating curves that made up a slim waist and a wonderful back side. I felt myself grow hard as the “other me” tried to take over my reasoning faculty but I cautioned myself quickly. There was a much greater task ahead.

Its been almost three months since I expelled Lola from my life and life had never been sweeter. Bola was a constant surprise; she had made my life so much easier. I took her any and everywhere as much as I could because I never wanted her to leave my sight. However, she had quite a tough schedule and I never really liked much the idea of her on night shifts especially with the threat of Lola still out there. I drove her there on such nights despite her protests. I wasn’t afraid of Lola because I knew that when it got down to it, I could handle her. What I couldn’t handle would be anything happening to Bola.

I came clean to Bola on everything that happened between us but she found it hard to believe that Lola could be mentally unstable and constantly laughed at my “paranoia”. I knew Lola to be quite vindictive so I suspected that despite the fact that she had let me be for some time, I couldn’t afford to lull myself to a state of false security.

I had to change the locks to the house when I noticed a set of keys was missing and warn Abdul to never let her inside the compound under whatever pretext. She had asked me for my keys once which I had refused. Then she had tried other means, by leaving bits and pieces of clothing around but I made sure she took them with her. All attempts by her to make a camp in my house failed. After her first display, I had cautioned myself to keep her at an arms length and I did.

Sadly, Bola never understood why I was so cautious. She was a free-spirited lady who was determined to believe in the innate good in people. She was an incurable optimist; a trait I adored but not in this matter. Lola had given me really bad vibes and I considered taking drastic actions but what if she just made an empty threat? I laughed at myself. That was exactly what Bola would say.

I turned my attention back to her. There was a peaceful and satisfied expression on her face as she slept. I dropped the tray consisting of a plate of toast, fried eggs, orange juice and dessert on the bedside table and sat down next to her on the bed. She was still fast asleep and I didn’t blame her. Where the energy of last night came from is still a mystery. It had started with the movies; both of us with Max and his fiancee, Dorothy who had just come back from the UK where she had just completed her Masters. After a highly disappointing movie, we decided to head to a karaoke bar where we decided that Bola could be the next big thing in the music industry if she really cared.

After a large number of drinks, Max and I parted ways at about 2:30am and the moment Bola and I got home, it was a race to see who could undress the other first. Our clothes formed a trail of bread crumbs to the bedroom where we fell into bouts and bouts of passionate love making till we fell into exhaustion-induced sleep. I had laughed at the thought of Hansel and Gretel when I saw the trail of clothes leading to the bedroom when I went to fix her breakfast.

I traced my fingers on her perfect body as I watched intently for any reaction. There was none. I sighed a bit disappointed that things weren’t going as I had planned it but there was always room for improvisation. I leaned over and kissed her cheeks. She stirred with a smile and drew me closer for a full kiss.

“I thought I was going to have to pour some ice water on you.” I said smiling.

“How come you’re up so early? What time is it?” She asked stretching and kicking off the covers and exposing her full body.

“I made you breakfast.” I said, handing her a glass of juice.

“Oh baby…” She exclaimed with a smile accepting the glass. “You do think of everything. I’m actually starving.”

“I knew you would be.” I said as I watched her sip. After she was done with it, I handed her a plate of toast and fried eggs. She took the first bite and savoured it; it was good.

“Where’s yours?” She asked when she saw me just watching her.

“Mine? Oh, I’m good. I’ll have something much later.” I said.

“You sure? We could share. Its really good.” She said, trying to feed me a bite but I declined.

“Is it poisoned?” She asked suspiciously.

“Perhaps.” I said smiling mischievously.

She laughed and continued to eat while I sat with her, passing her the glass of juice between intervals. When she finished, she sighed with satisfaction.

“Darling, that was great.” She said kissing me again. I nodded and kept smiling.

“I don’t know why you’ve been staring at me. Do I look like a movie?” She asked, frowning. I laughed as she drew up the bed covers over her body.

“I’m just wondering if you just fed me now to have me for breakfast. The way you’re looking at me is predatory.” She continued with a hilarious expression on her face.

“That’s the plan.” I said giving her my most charming smile. “But you’re not done with breakfast yet.”

“Do you intend to over feed me on this bed this morning?” She asked, laughing merrily.

“Yes.”

She looked at the bedside table and saw the smaller plate with the contents covered.

“What’s inside?” She asked suspiciously again.

“Dessert.” I said.

“Yaayyy! I love dessert!!” She exclaimed but stopped short. “Is this a two course meal?”

“No. Three.”

“Three? I don’t see a third plate.” She said, looking at me with a frown.

“You’re talking with your meal.” I said grinning.

She laughed loud and punched me on my arm. I reached out for the covered plate and handed it to her. She opened the cover and gasped, as her hand flew to her mouth. With shaking hands, she took the case and opened it. The moment she saw the contents of the case, she burst into tears. I went on my knees and held her left hand and took the content of the box looking at her eyes as I spoke.

“Bola, would you do me the honour of being my sun, my moon and my star for the rest of my life?” I asked sincerely.

She stifled her sobs and smiled. “That’s not a valid request.” She said shyly and I had to laugh.

“Will you marry me?”

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Of Heads And Hearts…

To the Orange Sun.

It was weird getting to know her. For a moment, it felt like I was gazing into my own reflection in the mirror. She had such an acute mind and an uncanny ability to keep me spell-bound with her conversations; a rare feat to achieve these days. There was always so much to tell and with each revelation was a stronger bond formed.

My invincible wall seemed to crumble at her feet effortlessly; a constant source of annoyance. We don’t do this no more, the head said. We thread with caution now. Wouldn’t want history to repeat itself now, would we? History never favoured past experiences which were replete with failures; a smooth start and a rancorous end. It is a tough battle trying to please your head and heart knowing they both mean well, I mused. I am stuck in between remaining in my windowless cubicle or to see the moon again and have a feel of the evening breeze. I realise the danger in the safety my head proposes but the optimism of the heart is infectious.

The mystery of it all is you never know how these things turn out. Prospects are bright but always vague. Would we rather have tried and lost or be plagued with the what-ifs of a time bygone? Would I be called brave for venturing out of my shell? Would it be a dangerous or adventurous story or both? Be true to me, the heart says and your dream may come true. The head counters; you will always be safe with me. My benevolence extends to even my arch-rival. If you heed her, you’re both lost without me.

The argument continues but a gaze at her smiling face mutes them both. The dream is pure, the fantasy is bliss. Time and space leap in giant bounds to close the distance that is the last barrier. She is the greener grass that is over the fence; the lone flower that blossomed in the desert; the resilient heart that stood firm and resolute, just as the horned ram. Preconceived notions now waver as possibilities stand out sure. The ballast of my thoughts elevates as the view is clearer from up there.

When we get there, we shall explore the island because it will be beautiful, if we are who we say we are.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXXI)

April 9, 2013.
11:26pm

I never got to hear from Kemi again after the last time she came over to my place. After her note, I didn’t bother to call. I was so sure that I had finally sent my strongest message yet concerning attachments. In retrospect, it occurred to me that I may have had the sweetest revenge but it was still a pyrrhic victory. I had lost a lot more than she did.

My work schedule had suddenly become stiffer and I was grateful for it. It kept my mind from wandering to sad thoughts; the thoughts that seemed to share my apartment with me. The thoughts crept on me like a ghost whenever I was home alone. Sometimes, I would perceive the peculiar aroma of the fried rice Christy loved to cook on saturdays; at other times, I’d detect a faint whiff of her perfume coming from nowhere. Her spirit was still very much alive in my house as much as my heart.

Two days ago, I called her phone with a new number I’d purchased, just in case she wouldn’t pick my calls, with a resolve to plead with her. As I listened to the ring of her phone, my heart pounded furiously like the thumping of the synchronized foot-steps of an army of giants. When she answered and spoke, I felt my courage dissolve and I cut the call. I couldn’t believe I was being such a pussy! It was very unlike me. Well, something happened that made me take one of my most daring moves ever.

Simon, a colleague in the IT department was getting married soon. He wanted a very good wedding ring and I don’t know why, but he came to me. He said he had seen some close-up pictures of Tunde and Amaka during their wedding on my laptop and he wanted to know where they had gotten their rings from. I called up Tunde and he gave me the number of one Mojisola; she made frequent trips out of Nigeria to buy all kinds of quality jewelry. Luckily, she had a new set and she was mobile so she came to the office.

Mojisola’s arrival seemed to be what everyone at my office needed. Her visit turned out to be one big sale as almost everyone wanted to buy some jewelry for themselves or for their loved ones. Even my boss bought an expensive pair of Bvlgari earrings for his wife. After Mojisola had sold a good number of her wares, she came to see me.

“Wow! I don’t think I’ve ever made sales this big in one place within a space of two hours.” She said, eyes sparkling. She was fashionable and well-dressed, dark-skinned but with soft features and very friendly eyes. I liked her instantly.

“When Tunde called to tell me to expect a call from you, I wasn’t expecting to meet a very huge market.” She said, looking very pleased.

“I’m just as surprised as you are. It was just Simon who wanted a wedding ring.” I said truly surprised.

“I find it a bit odd that you didn’t buy anything from me though.” She said winking.

“Well, I don’t really wear jewelry.” I said shrugging.

“I’m sure your girlfriend will like something from my collection.” She said relentlessly as she put some of her wares on my desk. Her words hit home as I seemed lost in thought for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry.” She said after a short while.

“What?” I asked looking up at her.

“You really miss her, don’t you?” She asked sadly.

“Do I know you? You seem to be able to read me so well.” I said laughing. She laughed too.

“Well, you know what they say about diamonds…they are a girl’s best friend. Perhaps, a nice piece could soften her up…?” She said, winking.

“You’re one hell of a marketer.” I said laughing. “Its now clearer why almost everyone made a purchase off you.”

“Well, I try.” She smiled. “Thanks for inviting me over. You deserve a gift but you said you don’t wear jewelry…I had something really nice to give you.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad I could help.” I said smiling.

“At least, let me take you to lunch.” She insisted. “My bag is full of money and I have the urge to splurge.”

I laughed at her rhymes. She was good company so I took her on her offer but we rescheduled for dinner later that evening. She chose Jevinik on Victoria Island and we agreed to meet by 8pm.

I left the office at about 6: 40pm and decided to go home and change first. There was always the danger of running into the most severe of traffics but surprisingly, the road heading back to the Island was unusually free, except for small pockets of traffic that gave way in record time. I was at Jeviniks a few minutes to 8pm and as I parked my car at the parking lot of the massive establishment, Mojisola called me to say she just arrived. We were still talking when I entered and she waved excitedly as soon as she spotted me.

She wore an exquisite black gown and was adorned with the best of what she sold. Her hair was different from what she wore to the office earlier today. I told myself to ask how she managed all that today but I forgot. After a soft peck on her cheek in appreciation of her stunning outfit and a brief exchange of pleasantries, we ordered.

“So how was your day? Did you make more sales after you left the office.” I asked.

“I did oh. Today has been so fantastic. I’ve been on a roll. Your call set the ball rolling. I wish you could call me everyday.” She said sincerely.

“I would, if you would bring me here for dinner everyday.” I said laughing.

“Oh, that’s a given…if everyday could be as good as today was.” She said winking.

When our orders came, we ate in between small talk. She was quite a story teller and there was never a dull moment. After we finished a highly satisfying meal, she suggested we go somewhere close by for drinks which we did.

“So, tell me about the girl.” She asked after we had settled down in a nice mini bar not far away from where we had dinner.

“What girl?” I asked surprised.

“I’ve been waiting for you to hit on me but apparently, you’re still very much in love.”

I sighed with a wry smile. “Do I really look that pathetic or are you so good at reading people?”

“Well, I guess I’m good at reading people. I studied Psychology too so I guess it helps. You’ve been trying to keep a cheerful face but there’s something more. I just feel it.”

I looked at her for a while and decided to unburdened myself to her, leaving out the specific details. She listened quietly and when I was done, her first question woke me up.

“Have you made any attempt to get her back since then?”

“I…I…not really.” I stammered, realising that I really hadn’t.

“I just wanted her to…heal a bit, I guess. I really hurt her badly.”

“How long has it been since you last spoke to her?” She asked.

“A month and a couple of days.”

“Hmm. You’ve been counting. When was the last time you saw her?”

“A little over two months.” I said.

“Why haven’t you called her?” Mojisola asked me looking surprised.

“I really don’t know. I know I should but when I attempted to, I could still hear pain in her voice.”

“Wow. You’re deep and sensitive. I like that.” She said smiling endearingly. She looked at me with genuine admiration in her eyes. She took a sip from her Chapman spiked with a little whiskey.

“She must be very beautiful.”

“She is.” I concurred. I hadn’t really drunk much from my glass of whiskey. I keep shaking it idly as we talked.

“If I were in her shoes, I’d expect you to try to get me back.” She said quietly.

“You would?” I asked.

“Of course. We are women. We can be quite rational for what we really want.”

At that moment, I knew what I needed to do to get her back; something I should have done a long time.

“I think I’m interested in one of your wares.” I said, unable to wait a second more.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Turning Tables (IX)

“I don’t like how you’ve been distant recently.” She said. She was sitting across me on the dining table from where I was going through several reports that represented an untidy stack on the table which I came back from work with. It was a friday evening; I would have been at Bola’s but she was on the night shift.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” I said as I closed a report I was done with and picked up another.

“Its like you don’t love me anymore.” She pressed.

I had to look up from the sheaf of papers I was going through to see if she was joking. She wasn’t.

“I never told you I loved you.” I said bluntly.

She seemed surprised at my blunt response.

“How can you say that?” She asked.

“Because I never did.”

“You did.” She insisted.

“When? Four years ago? Lola, not now please. I’ve got a lot to do.” I said tiredly.

She left where she sat and came and stood in beside me. I looked up and sighed as I saw her belligerent stance. Not again, I thought.

“Tell me you love me.” She said, looking at me directly.

I ignored her and continued to go through the papers in front of me.

“I’m talking to you!” She shouted. “Stop ignoring me. You know it makes me mad!”

I looked up at her regretting why Abdul let her in today. I had been avoiding her for the past few weeks since I started dating Bola. A day never passed since that first time at her place that we didn’t see each other. The more I got to see her, know her – the more I fell helplessly in love with her. She was the epitome of perfection that I had always dreamed of, much so that I began to wonder why I had ever settled for less.

Over the past few weeks as our relationship blossomed, we talked a lot about ourselves, our past and other notable matters. When I told her about Lola, the accident, she smiled. When I asked why she smiled, she said simply:

“If you hadn’t given her a second chance, we would never have met. I’m grateful for that. You should be too. The second chance you gave her gave you a second chance.”

I had never seen it that way. It was such a profound way of looking at it. I was so overcome with joy that I had hugged her tightly after she said that.

“I love you honey.” I had said honestly. Her smile as she looked up at me was priceless.

“Tony!” Lola screamed like a banshee, her voice snatching me from the blissful past and thrusting me back to the not-too-pleasant present.

“What do you want from me? Why can’t I just have a moment’s peace whenever you’re around? Why are you so aggressive?” I said with exasperation.

“I haven’t seen you in almost 18 days. You don’t call, you don’t return my calls and you ask me why I’m being aggressive?!” She asked me incredulously.

“I told you, I’ve been busy with work.” I said, going back to my papers.

“So busy that you couldn’t call?”

“Look, can we not do this right now? I’ve got a lot to catch up on.” I said gently.

She stood there looking at me, breathing hard, so hard that I could visualize the heaving of her chest . The next thing I saw was a quick flash of her hand and the papers on the table I was reading flew in a million different directions. I looked up at her, quite angry but was surprised to see a strange expression on her face. It was wild and animated.

“Tell me you love me.” She said softly, almost menacingly.

I stood up angrily and walked to the door and opened it.

“Get out!” I roared angrily.

She gave a loud cackle that alarmed me. She strode to the sitting room and sat down on the sofa nonchalantly and started staring at me like I had said something funny. I was speechless. Was this what it felt like to deal with a mentally unbalanced person? I left the door ajar and went to sit on the sofa. She didn’t look up; she started to mutter to herself as she began to shuffle her feet.

“Lola, its time for you to leave.” I said softly. She looked at me and suddenly smiled. With a deliberate movement, she shifted her loose blouse aside exposing a fair breast.

“Come and suck me.” She said.

I shifted back on the chair, at total loss for words. I was now convinced that she was quite gone. She kept inviting me with her smile but it only infuriated me further.

“Lola, you’re sick. You need help.” I said, a bit disgusted.

She flared up suddenly, shoving her loose breast back into her blouse.

“Its that whore, isn’t it? Your nurse-whore. You think I don’t know you’ve been fooling around with her?” She screamed, her whole body vibrating.

I picked up my phone and dialled Aunty Joy.

“Who are you calling?” She asked suddenly. I totally ignored her. Aunty Joy picked up on the third ring.

“Please, Lola is having an episode. Come and get her. She’s in my house.” I said into the phone. Aunty Joy told me she would come as soon as her husband got in. She asked if I could manage and I told her I could.

Fear crept into Lola’s eyes and she seemed to calm down a bit. She regained some form of composure and asked lucidly.

“Was that Aunty Joy you called?” She asked with concern in her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Why did you call her? You shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have.” She said, looking deeply troubled. She began to mumble to herself. I couldn’t make out the words.

“Lola, this thing between me and you, its not going to work. Its not working for me.” I said solemnly.

She looked at me. There was a flash of malice in her eyes but it went as quickly as it came.

“Are you dumping me?” She asked without the agitation I expected.

“Not dumping you; moving on with my life. I can’t cope with who you have become.” I said. “Aunty Joy is coming to pick you up soon.”

She fell silent. I had been planning on the best way to get rid of her for a while and so far, this was the best opportunity I had. Nothing had been going as I had planned it but I was amazed at my ability to improvise.

“You’re leaving me for that nurse, aren’t you?” She asked, surprisingly calm.

“No. I need peace of mind. You’re not it.” I said simply.

Without another word, she stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked towards the open door. I stood up and called out to her.

“Wait. I’ve got something for you.”

I took out a cheque from my pocket and handed it to her. She took it and scrutinized its contents. She seemed impressed and looked up at me.

“Very generous. You’re paying me to stay away from you.” Her voice was heavily loaded with sarcasm.

“No. Its a parting gift.” I said.

“A parting gift…hmmm.” She said as she continued to look at it. Before I could react, she tore the cheque into little pieces and dropped them on the floor. I was stunned.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” She said coldly before she stormed off.

“You’re no longer welcome here!” I shouted after her as soon as I recovered.

She didn’t look back.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXX)

WARNING: READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

That being said, enjoy!

March 4th, 2013.
11. 05am.

Her voice had a specific ring to it. Despite the stillness of the humid night, I shivered as powerful jitters coursed though my body. Its amazing how the sound of a woman’s voice you’ve been with can make a man get a hard-on. A mysterious phenomenon about me that I still can’t get a handle on. Sometimes, I think its probably because I’ve got a nasty mind that tends to recall such memorable experiences with pornographic clarity. At other times, I’m forced to accept that such a woman is a force of nature to be reckoned with. Tonight was one of such times.

I was surprised or even shocked that it was her but I maintained a cool exterior as I turned slowly to look at her. Damn, she was so awesome and she knew it! She had on a black and modest bum short on and a white tank top that refused to hide her erect nipples. The last time I saw her, I had sworn that she would never have any form of influence over me again. What a joker I was!

“What are you doing here?” I said feigning irritation.

“Please, don’t get mad. I know you never want to see me again…” She pleaded but I cut in.

“Then what are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” I asked roughly.

With arms akimbo, she looked down and then up as if seeking for the right explanation to give.

“I’ve been worried…worried about…” She sighed miserably. “I don’t know where to start from…”

“Start from somewhere. I haven’t got all night.” I said curtly. I turned my attention back to my generator. I turned on the key and it gave a cough and a sputter. Hmm…needs servicing, I thought. I tried it two more times and got the same result so I went for the manual option. She stood behind me watching the whole time in silence. As the generator came to life, she spoke.

“I’m sorry Mickey. I wasn’t thinking straight…I was hurt…angry for so long that I…” She broke off.

“I didn’t hear a word you just said.” I said pointing to the generator.

“Can we go inside?” She asked, very meekly.

“What for? So you can video me again? No, thanks. Say what you want to say here and be off.” I said enjoying the feeling of being rude.

Her head sunk in depression at my words. As I moved away from the generator to open my metal protectors, she seemed to muster some courage.

“Are you going to carry out your threat?” She asked.

I laughed out sarcastically. I saw her eyes go wide with fear for a second but she hid it well.

“Is that why you came here?” I asked, my tone softening up.

“I just need to know…if I’m still in danger.” She said hesitantly. She looked like a frightened child dreading imminent punishment. I opened my door and invited her in. She came in gratefully and stood awkwardly as I went about switching on the lights and fans.

“Sit down.” I said, when I noticed she was still standing. “You need anything? Like a drink?”

“I’m ok. Thanks.” She said politely.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I said, as I was about to head to my room. She nodded timidly.

I had a quick shower and changed into shorts and a singlet. When I got back, she hadn’t moved from her original position. I chuckled to myself. So Kemi could be this…subdued?

“I think you could use a drink.” I said as I fetched out a bottle of Jack inside the refrigerator and two glasses. I poured a shot for both of us, handed her hers and sat down. I drank mine down in a single gulp while she continued to hold hers without as much as a sip. I regarded her for a few seconds before I spoke.

“If I was ever going to do anything, I would have done it a long time ago. You can put your mind at rest now.” I said quietly.

Her eyes were shut tight for a few seconds before she opened them and downed her shot of Jack. After the spirit had settled, she heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” She said. “I think I should leave now.”

“By this time? Its late. Chill. You can leave early in the morning.”

She stood up. “I really think I should go now.”

When I stood, I saw her surprised gaze at the inevitable bulge in my shorts. She shifted uncomfortably as she tried to hide a smile.

“Come.” I said.

She hesitated for a second before making deliberately slow steps towards me. When she got close, she stopped. I reached for her hand and placed it on the bulge in my shorts before I pulled her close. She tried to protest but it was weak and inconsequential as I crushed my lips against hers. She responded immediately with a hungry moan that made me grow harder. While she fondled my cock, I got rid of her top easily to reveal those voluptuous breasts I’d missed as I squeezed. I guided her to the sofa as she slid my shorts off me with ease, granting my cock freedom to breath. I attacked her breasts with my mouth, going for the areolas as my hands tugged her shorts and panties till they were off her.

I had to catch my breath as I gazed at her full body, her brown, luminiscent skin which seemed to glow under the lights before I dove in again. I started with her breasts again; squeezing, sucking and slurping while my hands roved all over her body till my right hand parked firmly between her thighs. She moaned desperately as tremors coursed through her that she tightened her grip on my cock which she had been massaging the whole time. I inserted my fingers inside her and wasn’t surprised to feel her juices flowing already. I located her clit and caressed it tenderly and slowly at first; then much faster as she moved her hips in unison to an imaginary rhythm with my fingers. My left hand occupied her breast while her hand squeezed the other. She moaned and bit her lips as I lowered my lips to her belly button and felt her shiver involuntarily as I slid my mouth down into her. She cried as she pushed my head in, making me drink her up till she came after which she jumped up and switched positions.

She started with my ears, nibbling softly then slid down to my neck. Her soft and hot kisses pampered my chest and nipples a bit before she went down to my cock, swallowing it whole. The vertical and horizontal motion of her hands in conjunction with her mouth increased in intensity as I felt pressure build up within me. I caressed her hair as she continued to look up to me, her mouth full as I encouraged her with a kind and gentle look which indicated bliss. The pressure started building and when I tried to get her off, she increased motion until I exploded my essence inside her mouth with a loud battle cry Spartacus would be proud of. She continued to suck until she had drained and revived me. I took a second to rubber up before she mounted and began to ride.

Our bodies combined in heat, sweat and sound as we could almost make a beat off the rhythmic and violent collision of our bodies. When I flipped her over and rammed her from behind, she squealed in delight as she began to shake convulsively, before she came hard, clawing at my leather upholstery with her sharp nails. I followed shortly and collapsed on her in exhaustion. She began to whimper, telling me how much she had missed me.

I rolled over to the floor and looked at the time. It was a couple of minutes to two am.

“I’m so gonna be late for work today.” I muttered.

“Did you hear what I said?” She asked, sitting up.

“Yeah.” I said.

“So…”

“So? I’m going to take a shower. You coming?” I asked casually.

She seemed shocked at my response. Without a word, she picked up her clothes and followed me to my bedroom. She waited for me to finish up before she went in to shower. I was already half asleep when she was done. She quietly joined me on the bed, fully dressed, keeping her distance and facing the other way.

I smiled satisfactorily as I slept off.

I was up a few minutes after five only to find out she was long gone. Her side of the bed had no warmth or depression, neither was it badly tousled. On the spot where she had lain was a note with just two words written in capital letters.

“YOU BASTARD!!!!!”

I laughed as I read it over and over again. What a crazy bitch!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Turning Tables (VIII)

“Is she all there? As in mentally?”

“How do you mean?” Aunty Joy asked.

“I noticed sometimes that she acts really strange.” I said cautiously.

“How strange?”

“Like there is an occasional flash of mental imbalance.” I said, choosing my words carefully.

She remained silent for a while as if trying to measure my words. I had called her earlier in the day to discuss the unusual sparks of insanity I had witnessed in Lola the past few weeks. Most of her displays were comic at best and worrisome at worst. I was convinced that a lot of water had gone under the bridge the past four years. I needed to find out.

“What happened? What did she do?” She asked anxiously. I didn’t want to go into specifics as I was sure she could guess.

“In the past, while we dated – yes, she had the tendency to throw the occasional tantrum but she never showed any inclination towards getting physical. We had a little disagreement and it almost became physical. At other times, she would go into trances where she began to utter unintelligible mumbo-jumbo”

Aunty Joy toyed with the chips on the plate in front of her as she seemed lost in thought. She had added weight again; her habit of always eating chicken and chips was her undoing apparently. I could see that in no distant future, she would be where she had begun or beyond it. I shifted in my seat to watch her more closely as I detected that she had become a bit uneasy with the topic. It could only mean one thing.

“Well, she had an episode after her husband died.” She said reluctantly. “She became quite suicidal…so we had to take her to Yaba for a few days.”

“Ha! Yaba?!” I exclaimed. “Why am I just hearing this now?” I wasn’t happy that she had kept this piece of information from me.

“I didn’t think it was necessary as she was suffering from depression. She only spent three days there after which she’s been in good spirits ever since.”

“You didn’t think it was necessary? I see.” I said, quietly. I was angry at myself for not seeing this before and how could I? It was a selfish ploy the whole time and not her genuine concern for me or Lola that led her to push us together. She was tired of having Lola as her responsibility. She was trying to shift the responsibility to me.

“So is there any other thing that you’ve hidden from me because you thought it wasn’t necessary?” I asked, unable to hide my annoyance.

“Ah ah! Its not like that oh.” She said, her face turning into a disappointed frown. She looked away for a few minutes before she continued.

“Lola always thought her husband’s death was her penance for the way she treated you. Even when we tried to convince her otherwise, she wouldn’t listen.” She paused to gauge my reaction but I kept my face totally bland. She continued after some time when she saw no discernible expression from me.

“Lola needs you back in her life. She always has. I’ve never seen her so happy in the last four years than she is now…just give her some time.” She said.

“How about me? Do I really need her and all her…drama? Have you considered that?” I asked.

“I have. Why else have you not been in a steady relationship?” She asked frankly.

The truth of the matter was that I was probably the most confused as to what I really wanted. I had no idea what I was doing or what I wanted from this. At the beginning, all I wanted was some form of closure but now, I wasn’t so sure. Aunty Joy had seen that and taken advantage of it. I couldn’t really blame her though. One thing was sure – my senses were tingling badly. I had a premonition that nothing good was going to come out of this. I had to get out before I got hooked and before Lola got too dependent.

I was eager to get back to work because I was overcome with boredom after the first few weeks of nothing but TV, food, sex and hanging out with Max. Bola’s persistence added a new twist to my life. I was flattered that she continued to call me despite the fact that my interest had toned down a notch but I always made sure I returned her calls. However, my interest piqued again when I ran into her the day I went for a general check up with Dr. Usman. She hadn’t been on duty that evening but she confessed she had taken a peek into the doctor’s notes to confirm my appointment was for that day, hence her presence.

I was once again overwhelmed by her vivacity and the sheer force of her personality. There was no need to thread softly with her as there was no threatening clouds of the past cautioning us but the absolute freedom of just enjoying each other’s company in real time as far as we could go. When I offered to take her somewhere so we could have dinner, she counter-offered with dinner at her place so I agreed.

She lived alone in a very nice and tastefully furnished 2 bedroom apartment in a very nice area at Magodo. The compound was large with three other apartments with ample parking space The sitting room was small but compact and very comfortable.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She said mischievously as she watched me look around appreciatively when we stepped into the sitting room. She took off her jacket revealing the fitting top she wore beneath that barely held her massive breasts in place.

“You do? What am I thinking?” I asked.

“You’re wondering what man pays for my apartment.” There was a sneer in her voice when she said this. It was so funny I had to laugh.

“Why would you even think I’m thinking that?” I asked laughing.

“Its the way you men think. You automatically conclude that I must have a sugar daddy somewhere that pays for this. Its really annoying.” She said with such disgust that amused me.

“Oh, so you’ve been bringing men home?” I said feeling a tinge of jealousy.

“Not really? My ex said that the first time he came here.” She said.

“Ouch! That must have hurt.” I said.

“It did.”

“Well, you’re apartment is very nice.” I conceded.

“My dad owns this place. He let me have it when I told him I wanted to live on my own.” She said.

“You seem to be all about emancipation, lady. Its one of the things I find irresistible about you.” I said honestly without meaning to.

“Oh yeah? That’s so sweet.” She said blinking her eyelashes. She switched on the LCD and handed me the remote. “Please make yourself comfortable while I cook up some spaghetti. Do you like spaghetti?”

“I love spaghetti.” I said.

“Great!” She said, quite pleased.

As she turned to head to the kitchen, I asked, “Mind if I join you in the kitchen? Watching TV bores me these days.” I asked.

“Would you? You’re welcome to.” She said smiling. She put in some music before we headed inside the small but neat and spacious kitchen.

We talked on lighter topics as she went through the motions of cooking. There was a feeling that overwhelmed me with the way we talked, the way she moved purposefully and laughed heartily at my jokes. For a second, my mind wandered to what a future with her would be like. Me, her, a conversation in my kitchen with a ring on her middle finger. As if to confirm the epiphany, the smooth, silky voice of Michael Bolton’s Soul Provider wafted into the kitchen from the sitting room.

“Dance with me Bola.” I said suddenly. She turned to look at me surprised.

“You like this song too?!” She exclaimed as she hurriedly cleaned her wet hands on a dry napkin which hung on the window protector. She took my extended arms and I pulled her close. We waltzed clumsily to the music, stepping on each others toes in between laughs. I stared into her pretty eyes as her smile gradually faded, giving rise to an expression so sincere.

I made a move to kiss her and stopped halfway. She covered the remaining distance and when we kissed, I felt a fire that I had never known. In our kiss was clarity; a certainty that she was the one my deeply wounded heart had waited for this whole time…

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXIX)

March 4th, 2013.
11: 05am.

“Hi.” Her voice sounded stiff but it was music to my ears.

“My goodness! Its so good to hear your voice again.” I said without thinking. I missed her badly and I wanted her to know.

“I just called to say hi.” She said hesitantly. My furiously thumping heart fluttered weakly at the tonal undulations of her voice. It was like listening to a symphony. How I had missed its light musical timbre.

“That’s pretty nice of you. I thought you were never going to afford me the luxury of hearing your voice again. How are you?” I asked, my heart busy doing more flip-flops.

“I’m doing ok.” She answered quickly. “How are you?” Her voice was a bit strangled; like she was still battling with herself whether calling me was the right thing to do.

“Well, I’m still alive…desperately hoping for second chances.” I said. She started to say something but paused as she considered my words. My heart rate increased so bad that I felt my knees go weak for a second. I leaned on the car closest to me.

“Chris, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…if I knew then what I know now, we wouldn’t be where we are now.” I deliberately used the “we”, half-expecting her to sting me with “There’s no we!”; but she didn’t. She seemed to weigh my words over and over again before she spoke.

“Have you found someone else?” She blurted out. The tone of her voice told me this was the crux of the matter; the real reason she called as it felt like she couldn’t wait to get the question out. I wasn’t expecting it.

“Err…no. Not at all.” I said. There was a sigh and a sniff. I had an idea that she had been crying.

“You lying to me again, aren’t you?” She asked quietly, her voice breaking.

“Ouch!” I muttered before I could help it. She was still hurting and I was ready to take whatever she was going to dish at me. I deserved it.

“Are you lying to me?” She asked again.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not seeing anybody at the moment?” She asked again.

“I said I’m not!” I said tiredly with a little of my repressed anger at her total distrust breaking the surface. I calmly reminded myself that she had every right not to trust me.

There was a brief pause. I could hear her soft breathing pattern. Nostalgic memories flooded my brain of a time when she nestled on my chest. It seemed like ages past.

“I hear you’ve easily replaced me with a white girl.” She said with a recognizable tinge of jealousy. I was flattered.

“No. You’re irreplaceable.” I said quietly.

She was silent for a time. It seemed like an eternity before she continued.

“So there’s a white girl?” She asked.

“She’s just a friend. Thanks to Kunle.” I said but I regretted mentioning that snake’s name.

“Kunle? How does he factor into this?!” She asked.

“Never mind. He doesn’t.” I said, knowing she wouldn’t let it rest.

Toksy by this time, had gotten quite impatient and strolled to where I was and tapped me. I made a gesture telling her to be patient and moved further away.

“How did you know it was Kunle?” She asked incredulously.

“How did I…I didn’t know.”

“Then why did you call his name?” She was agitated now. I sighed deeply and I realised I had put myself on the spot.

“Her name is Chloe. She’s a friend of Kunle. I met her through him.”

“What…what is going on?” She asked, shocked. “You’ve been meeting Kunle behind my back? W…wh…why would you do that?” She was almost in tears.

“You don’t understand…” I started but she cut in.

“No! I do understand now. I never should have trusted you, EVER!” She said, her voice turning into a shrill yell as she choked back some tears.

“Chris…” I said, trying to explain but she hung up on me. I wanted to dial back but I decided it wasn’t a good idea. I had never really gotten over the silent treatment she gave me after my forced confession. No human being could remain sane after such a monumental betrayal without some form of closure. This was the first dose and I had a strong feeling that she would call again.

Toksy hovered back into my view. One look at her face and I knew I had lost the moment we were having before the call came in. In a way, I was grateful because my active libido was replaced with an over-excited, thumping heart and an anxiously roving mind; I would have been a great disappointment if I had to force myself to sustain the moment.

“Are you gay?” She asked suddenly, breaking my thoughts. I was so shocked that for the first few seconds, my mouth was agape as I struggled to find an appropriate response.

“What?! Why the hell would you even think that?” I asked, deeply offended.

“Chris called you…and you talked to him like he was a woman…a lover.” There was a funny expression in her eyes like she had caught me in a lie. It was infuriating!

“I…you…Chris…” I stammered, unsure of where to start from.

“Oh, forget it!” I said angrily and walked away from her and headed back into the bar and ordered a drink. The party was at its apogee as everyone was in high spirits with the DeeJay doing a terrific job much so that everyone sang along to Davido’s “Gobe”. Ifeanyi and his girlfriend Irene were getting it on at the middle of the dance floor with a large circle of bodies urging them on. I searched around for Tunde but he was no where to be found. I concluded he must have left a long time ago, especially when he didn’t see me.

I was still sitting at the bar with my can of beer when Toksy came back in. She sat next to me and watched me with a renewed interest that annoyed me. I was tempted to shout “WHAT?!” over the loud music but I thought better of it. I needed to head home. I needed to think; my mind was in such turmoil.

“Its nothing to be ashamed of.” She whispered, leaning so close that I could feel the tickling sensation of her hot breath on my ear.

I looked at her in dismay, totally short of words which were useless in here anyway. She really thought I was gay! I washed down the contents of my beer can and decided to call it a night. Ifeanyi was surrounded by lots of party animals; he wouldn’t notice my absence. I totally ignored Toksy and headed out to my car but the girl wouldn’t let me be. She followed me behind calling out to me.

“Why are you so angry? Did I do something wrong?” She asked surprised but I ignored her. I just wanted to leave but she was persistent. She knocked on my windows as I was about to pull out of the lot till I had to roll down.

“I can’t believe you asked me that useless question!” I said angrily.

“I’m sorry for my assumption but I happen to actually like gays and bi’s…” She explained but I cut her off.

“I’m none of that!”

“Then why are you about to drive out just like that?” She looked genuinely confused. I struggled to force out a coherent answer but none came. I stared at her for a while until I realised I didn’t owe her any explanation. I rolled up my window and drove off.

The drive from the bar to my house was relatively peaceful. The roads were empty and devoid of much activity. The streetlights gave every where a brilliant ambience that helped to relax me. I got home a few minutes before 11pm and as I drove inside the compound, I was surprised to see a familiar white Honda Accord parked in my space. I wondered why the may guard didn’t tell whoever owned the car that it was my space. I parked close to it and stepped out, using my eyes to search for him. The compound was dark and noisy – thanks to PHCN. The weather was hot, too damn hot. I was going to need my generator if I was going to sleep at all tonight. As I moved toward the little wooden contraption that housed my generator, I heard a familiar voice that made me turn cold.

“Hey handsome.”

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Turning Tables (VII)

“Isn’t this that nurse at the hospital?!” She asked, her eyes sparking with anger.

“So?” I asked.

“What is she calling you for?” She asked, holding the ringing phone just away from my reach.

“Pass me my phone jor. I don’t have time to answer 21 questions.” I said, my patience thinning out.

“Why is she calling you?” She asked stubbornly still looking at the phone until it rang out.

“How the fuck is that your concern?” I asked angrily. “Pass me my phone right now!”

She ignored me. She kept looking at the phone display expecting the call to return and in a few seconds, it did. A flash from the past hit me – before I met good fortune. There was this cute young lady in my former office many years ago who fancied me; Meme by name. Somehow, I managed to keep our relationship on a platonic level but she called me every now and then, usually for work related stuffs. Lola had actually answered her call while I was in the bathroom one day and insulted the living daylight out of Meme without even telling me a thing. You can imagine my shock the next day at work when Meme told me all about it. She only said one thing to me that struck a resounding cord in my head.

“Put that girl on a leash. She’s taking too much for granted.”

I never forgot that statement especially after reality struck and I realised that she had been playing me the whole time. Worse still, somehow after the incident, we never talked about it. History was not going to repeat itself!

She had already pressed the button to take the call. I lunged forward in my nakedness and snatched the phone from her hand, hurting her unintentionally in the process. She screamed more from shock than pain.

“Hey sweetie! How are you doing? I was actually just thinking of you now.” I said sweetly and audibly for Lola to hear as I picked my clothes from the floor.

Her eyes were wide with shock as she stared at me speechless as I totally ignored her and headed towards the bedroom. She was up in swift pursuit. I had entered my room and was about to shut the door when Lola barged in, hitting the door against me. I staggered as I lost balance but quickly recovered well enough to hear Bola ask what was going on.

“Bola, let me get back to you.” I said softly, ending the call. Lola grabbed my hands screaming like a crazy woman.

“How dare you treat me like this?!” She screamed, trying to pry my mobile phone loose from my hand. “How dare you?!”

I pushed her away bemused with shock!

“What is wrong with you? Have you gone insane?!” I quickly struggled into my boxer. I would be greatly at risk if she decided to attack me while I was naked.

“You can’t treat me like this after making love to me. After all I have gone through because of you these past few weeks!” She cried, tears rolling down her eyes.

“What you went through?!” I asked, totally confused. “Was I not the one on the hospital bed?”

“Do you know the torture I went through?” She asked.

“Torture? What torture?!”

“The psychological torture. The evil looks I got from your mother and Maxwell…”

“And they are to blame for that?” I laughed not waiting for her to answer.

She looked at me with a genuine shock that surprised me. Without a word, she went back to the sitting room and picked up her clothes, dressed up and went out of the door.

“Where are you going?” I called out but she didn’t turn back or even act like she heard me.

I went after her and just as she got to the gate, I caught her hand and stopped her. She turned and faced me with tears in her eyes.

“What’s the matter with you? Why ruin a good moment with baseless accusations?” I asked softly.

She didn’t reply.

“Ok. I’m sorry for what I said but why jump into the conclusion that there’s something going on between me and the nurse?”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you and I saw the way you looked at her…” She said her voice breaking, her chest heaving.

“That’s hardly enough for you to conclude, come on!”

“Then why is she calling you?” She asked her voice still breaking.

“Come on! Don’t let your imaginations run wild. She’s someone I’m indebted to for taking good care of me. You of all people should know that. Come…” I said, pulling her to myself. She didn’t resist but the moment her face hit my chest, she burst into tears.

“I’m sorry. I just got so scared…” She cried.

“Shhhh…don’t worry about it. Neither should you give in to your fears.” I cooed. “Let’s just take it slow and steady, ok?” I said, looking into her eyes.

She nodded and wiped her eyes and finally gave me a smile.

“Aha, that’s more like it. You look like an angel when you smile.” She smiled even more and I lifted her off the ground to her delight and took her back inside.

I don’t know why I stopped her from leaving because I knew I really should have let her go especially as I was now convinced that there was no way forward for both of us. Her display made wonder if she was mentally balanced because I didn’t think Bola’s call would tick her off so badly. Ok, I knew it would…I wanted her to feel a little jealous but her reaction was overboard.

Strangely, this little drama made my adrenaline pump and I kind of enjoyed it; it was very different from my boring routine of work, work, work. There was a hint of danger surrounding her and I found it oddly exciting; and the sex, it was great, better than I could remember. I wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

This time, I carried her straight to my bedroom. She undressed herself, her movements slow and sensual while she gave me that sultry look that set my blood on fire. I just sat on the bed feasting on her body with my eyes. Then she came to me, her movement slow and deliberate as she undressed me, ready to please.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXVIII)

March 3rd, 2013.
07:12am.

“But dude, na wa for you oh. Can’t you even stay single without having anything to do with a woman – just for a short while?” Tunde asked me.

“Why should I?” I asked him looking puzzled. “What’s the point? Why should I punish myself?”

Yesterday, we were at Ifeanyi’s birthday party which Ifeanyi had in his usual manner, insisted that we show up at all costs. Tunde and I rarely saw each other these days; most especially as a result of our lives heading in opposite directions. Tunde was preparing for fatherhood while I was…well, still wondering on the course my life was taking. Thus we made it a point of duty to meet there.

Chloe had gone to Calabar to visit Obudu Cattle Ranch with her friends as her time in Nigeria was almost up. She had become so accustomed to me that she always wanted me to accompany her everywhere. We were seldom apart during weekends, probably the reason she was upset when I declined her invitation to meet her up there, though she didn’t press me. Her unexpected visit caused quite a stir at the office on Thursday as tongues wagged all day. When I told Tunde all about the recent happenings, he was thoughtful for a while before he said, “Your life would make a pretty good movie” and I laughed. I was already thinking like that.

“Are you aware that you just may be burning whatever is left of the bridge between you and Christy?” He asked thoughtfully.

“I doubt if she ever plans to use the bridge again. What would you have me do? Sit and mourn? And pine away for the rest of my life on the hopes of regaining a love lost?” I asked.

He was taken aback in surprise and he looked at me curiously.

“Did you just go all Shakespeare on me just now?” He asked, gasping in mock shock and I laughed.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked still laughing. He mimicked me comically and I replied with a good natured jab on his shoulder.

“So, na here una dey hold una own witchcraft meeting?” Ifeanyi asked, appearing behind us suddenly. We were at outer lounge of the dance bar where we decided to chill, have a drink and talk away from the loud music that reverberated from the supposed sound-proof building.

“Heyyy, there’s the birthday boy!” Tunde exclaimed rising for a handshake and a hug. I followed suit.

“Where’s your white girl? Why didn’t you bring her?” He asked after I had extended my birthday wishes.

“The rate at which people keep tabs on my business surprises me. Who dey spread my gist?!” I wondered out aloud and they both laughed.

“You were sighted, young man. Seriously, you should have brought her and a couple of her friends. Don’t be greedy man, share the fun. We would all like to sample an intercontinental dish too oh!” Ifeanyi said, nodding at Tunde for support. Tunde denied him.

“Happily married with a kid on the way!” Tunde said, raising both hands to indicate he would have no part in such schemes and we laughed.

“Seriously though, you guys should come inside. I’ve already got two girls who would like to meet both of you.” He said, pulling me to my feet.

“Are they cute?” Tunde asked, smiling mischievously.

“Thus said the married man!” I mocked.

“You know me now. I’m retired.” He retorted. “If you want the ladies to flock, just introduce yourself as a married man. There’s something about being a married man that attracts chicks like a magnet attracts metal. I’m yet to understand it.” He added.

“I heard that too. We live in strange times, don’t we?” Ifeanyi said concurring as we went into the heat of the action. That was where I met Toksy.

Now, this is the thing about meeting complete strangers at night with nothing but strobe lights lighting your way. When Ifeanyi introduced us, what caught my attention was her shape. She had on a light, tight, multi-coloured, above-the-knee gown that seemed like a tattoo on her skin. The design of the dress bared her shoulders exposing her very attractive clavicle. Her incredible shape was awesomely highlighted and it got me swooning. She seemed flattered by the way my eyes roved shamelessly all over her body. It wasn’t until we started talking that I saw her face – not the fairest of maidens in my estimation. Her eyes were bright and excited, her nostrils were flat and she had this thick lips that looked like they were the previous subject of botox injections. Her make up was much…a bit much – always had this notion that ladies who hide behind a thick mass of make-up have something to hide. Her long hair was well worn and gave her a very flashy look but that shape. Mama mia!

We had a brief but meaningless conversation as the music was so loud that I could barely hear myself. She must have figured this too when she eventually gave up and pulled me to the dance floor. From her moves, I concluded that she must have been an accomplished dancer at one time or the other. Her moves were lithe, sensual and highly suggestive and in no time, I started having wild ideas. While she put her body all over me, her eyes spoke in volumes as she taunted and dared me seductively.

She suddenly became the toast of the night as several guys tapped me to have a go at her on the dance floor but she wouldn’t allow any exchange. Each time they tried, she would latch on to me tighter than before while carrying out the most erotic and penile-invigorating dances that left no doubt in my mind as to what she had in mind. After a while, she told me she was thirsty so we went over to the bar where she ordered a glass of chapman while I ordered a beer. She led me out of the cool madness that was the dance floor to the humid serenity of the dark night.

“You’re quite a naughty dancer, aren’t you?” I said grinning mischievously.

She gave me a smile that exposed a perfect set of white teeth that shined bright in the surrounding darkness. “And you seem to be comfy with it.”

“I don’t ask for much. I just take what I see.” I said shrugging.

She laughed.

“You’ve got a confident air about you. I suspect you’re quite good with women.” She said winking.

“My, my, my! Am I that easy to read?” I exclaimed astonished.

She laughed. She had a nice laugh. Her soft cleavage which the nice dress exposed rattled as she did and I thought to myself again, Wow, What a body! We strolled through the numerous cars to where I parked. The huge car park was filled with cars but scanty of people as most of them were inside dance bar. I leaned on the car as I squeezed my empty beer can and flung it towards the bin that was nearby. She was still sipping her drink and rested her lush body against me as her soft backside connected accurately with the position of my member. The temptation was too hard to resist as there was a stiffening. My hands gripped her waist and I pulled her closer to feel the pressure.

She turned back at me with a puzzled look in her eye.

“Don’t look at me like that. You must know by now the kind of effect you have on men. I’m totally defenseless against it.” I said sincerely.

She threw her head backward as she laughed, resting fully against me. My hands crept from her waist up to her breasts; small but firm. I squeezed gently and she jumped away from me.

“You’re really a bad boy. We just met.” She said. She regarded me as if for the first time as she took a sip from her drink.

I knew she wanted me but she wanted to toy with me; she wanted to play games. I had to seduce her and at that point in time, I was in a good mood, feeling at the top of my game.

“It would be cruel of you to expect me to be on my best behaviour with a body like that.” I said, licking my lips hungrily. I extended my hand and she smiled. As soon as she responded, I pulled her close to me a bit roughly.

“Do you have any idea of the kind of torture you’ve subjected me to in the past hour?” I whispered as she caught her breath.

“Your body is like home. I want to make it mine.” I whispered into her ears. I felt her go limp against me as I kissed her neckline to her bare shoulder while my hands moved gently across her body, touching and caressing. When my hands got to her backside, I squeezed and she squealed.

“Stop…” She said without conviction but I ignored her. Her breathing had become harsh as my fingers lifted her gown gently and I was pleasantly surprised to find she wore no panties. My lips grazed her lips and she surrendered and kissed back with fervor, expanding her legs a bit to ease the probe of my fingers when I felt the vibration of the phone in my pocket. I ignored it at first but when I heard the unique ring tone, my heart skipped a beat.

Toksy was by this time, potty in my hands, willing to do my bidding but my mojo disappeared as if my default button was reset.

“I’m sorry but I gotta take this!” I said apologetically, fumbling for the phone in my pocket as I walked away from her, my boner disappearing rapidly. The caller display showed it was no joke. I answered the phone breathlessly.

“Chris?!”

Malcolm O. Ifi.

WOMAN-ITY

The rib was the genesis
From a piece of bone came the fulcrum
Soft, lithe and gentle in deep contrast
To the gruff and abrasive
From whence it came
Capable in care
A testament to art and beauty in heaven
Evoking the most powerful emotion
True treasures to hold and cherish
Vessels of unfathomable depths
Of strength
Willingly shared,
Inspiring the world of men

From her bosom
Are the greatest of men formed
To men she gave reason
To sheath and unsheath swords
Like Helen of Troy
She drove the race of men wild
So did she deliver us like Eva
In Theresa did we know
That one heart could millions hold

Who hath experienced
A mother’s love
A sister’s loyalty
A lovers heart
The companionship of a wife
And the adoration of a daughter?
Happy art thou
For in this
Is the mystery of life
And the nature of God revealed

Oh woman,
Nature subjugated thee
But you rose through silent struggle
Bearing no grudges
Showing rare wisdom and mettle
In the blackened smokes of the hearth
In deathly pains to give life
In the selfless passion of nurture

You are mankind
And mankind is you
For none can deny the touch of God
Through your hands
Oh woman-ity,
How we adore thee!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXVII)

February 16th, 2013.
02: 15pm

There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery.
- Dante Alighieri

Chloe has been my very close friend, confidant and well…lover for the past two weeks. It was a relationship of convenience; a friendship with benefits and without inhibition. She wanted a black guy and I wanted something to take my mind off the events of the previous weeks. For the first time in a long while, I actually had a girl who didn’t want anything from me other than the occasional companionship which stemmed from convenience and good loving with no strings attached. Ironically, this sort of arrangement which I had sought for my whole life was hardly what I wanted now.

We were at the beach for a party she had insisted I attend with her to get my mind off “things” but I had wandered away and finally ended up at the bank of the ocean. There was something relaxing about the view of the wind-troubled ocean and the caress of the rushing cold waters on my feet. It was here also that a reminder of the anguish of loss I felt overwhelmed me. I remembered with vividness, the concern in Christy’s eyes that slowly turned to anger, pain and sorrow as I unburdened my heart to her.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand…” She had said, her eyes wide with fear.

“I mean that I don’t deserve you. You’re the epitome of perfection in a woman. The only place I thought you existed was in my dreams and nothing prepared me for finding you in reality.”

She was speechless and confused and I imagined she possibly couldn’t guess what was coming so I held her hands and made her sit down. She was still wearing an apron over my t-shirt. The house was filled with the aroma of something awesome.

“Chris, you probably know a little about my past…before I met you.” She nodded.

“Well, I haven’t been fair to you. I have been a bit of a rogue recently. I have strayed a couple of times…” I said quietly.

Her hands gradually slid off mine. I bit my lip in regret and cursed Kunle for making me do this. In a funny kind of way though, it was a relief. My amorous adventures were the only barrier left between us.

“I know what I’m going to say is going to shock you and piss you off but I think I should get it off my chest. You may hate me forever but I want you to understand why I was that way and why I did what I did…” I continued but she cut me short. The first time she ever did that.

“Did you have anything to do with Kemi?” Her voice was unrecognizable. Her chest heaved like she was about to erupt like a volcano.

“It would be better if I explained…” But she cut in again.

“Did you or did you not?!” Her voice was a little louder this time. My way with words wasn’t going to get me off this time.

My palms were clammy and I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. I had never been so scared my whole life. What I was afraid of then, I was unsure of.

“I did.” I said immediately, eager to get it over with. The moment I said that, I knew we were done. I had never seen her this bitter and angry. The tears rolled down her cheeks as she gave me the look of the betrayed.

“How…how… could you?” She managed to say as she struggled to hold back her tears. It was a massive failure as her body shook uncontrollably as she broke down into sobs. I never felt so ashamed!

I went and sat next to her feeling depression overpower me. Tentatively, I reached out for her – she resisted but without conviction. When I pulled her close, she gave in but not before pounding on my arms several times and breaking down uncontrollably. She was heart broken, as was I. I had never contemplated the consequence of my actions and in her pain, I finally came to terms with the hurt my carefree actions could cause. If Tunde were here, he would not fail to say “I told you so”.

I held on to her while she cried, wishing I had been smarter a long time ago. Finally, her tears subsided and she pulled away from me and wiped her tears.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, still wiping her eyes as she stood. I was dumbfounded by her question. How could she still give a hoot about me after what I just revealed?! I went down on my knees and held her waist.

“Chris, I’m sorry. I truly am…” There were no words to appropriately convey how sorry I was and how foolish I felt. She was a gem. She looked at me with genuine sadness in her eyes but said nothing. I had let her down terribly but I realised I had let myself down more. I had been so caught up in this life that I managed to ruin the good thing I had going.

She left on Sunday morning. I had slept off late on the couch and she awoke me to say she was leaving. When I stood up, I saw her bags and I felt a light go out inside me. She had apparently packed her stuff during the night. There was nothing I could say – we both knew better to leave the incoherent words that struggled to burst out of our mouths unsaid. I helped her with her bags to the car in silence. After loading her trunk, I asked where she was going. She said “Home” and I nodded. She kissed me goodbye and drove off. I stood at the gate and watched till the view of her car disappeared from my sight before I dragged my feet back into my apartment, crestfallen.

It didn’t sink in until I went to the kitchen. She had prepared breakfast for me before she left. She had made me a sandwich with a full jug of pineapple juice. I walked back to the sitting room in a daze and sat down. The privacy of my quiet apartment pierced my machismo and for the first time, I cried.

“There you are!” Chloe’s voice rang in my ears bringing me back to the present. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” I turned and watched her as she walked towards me on the lonely dark beach. She had on shorts and a tank top; her feet were bare. Her blond hair danced to the rhythm of the wind.

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist the ocean.” I said apologetically.

“I understand.” She said smiling as she came into my arms. In silence, we stood and watched the billowing ocean.

It was after I had failed to drown my sorrows in alcohol that I remembered the card she gave me. When I called her, she was surprised to hear from me so soon but hearing my “slurred speech” she could tell I was far gone. She appeared at my doorstep a few hours later. I was still in high spirits when she came in so we talked and talked till I finally passed out. What we talked about, I have no idea. I woke up a few hours later with a crushing headache to find myself on my bed, stripped to my pants. The near empty bottle of Jack eyed me from the stand where it stood. I reached out and drained its contents. It was a few minutes past 12am. I staggered out to get a drink of water when I saw Chloe in the sitting room watching TV.

“Hey.” She said brightening up with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. I feel as if some demons are having a party inside my head.” I said, wincing. She laughed.

“Have some Aspirin. It’ll help.”

“Nah. Water will do.” I said. After I had drank enough water, I went and sat next to her.

“I really appreciate you coming over when I called.” I said thankfully to her.

“My pleasure.” She said smiling sweetly. “So she left huh?”

“Yeah.” I said glumly.

“Awww. Poor baby! Don’t look so sad though. She’ll be back if she really loves you.” She said, holding my face. Her hands were warm.

“I don’t want to get my hopes up. I think she deserves better than me…or Kunle.” I said. She laughed when I mentioned Kunle.

“He still doesn’t stand a chance. Trust me on that.” I merely shrugged.

“You know, I like you.” She said after a while, appraising my bare chest. “You are a softie. I think that’s why the ladies love you.”

“How do you mean?” I asked surprised.

“You’re a gentleman. That’s who you really are.”

“Where did that come from? What did we talk about?” I asked, confused.

“You don’t remember?” She asked surprised.

“I’ve got no recollection. The last thing I remember is sitting on this couch with you. Its all blank after that.” She laughed.

“I guess what you need right now is something to take your mind off this.” She said seductively.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah. Come with me and I’ll show you.” She said as she rose and rolled her hips towards the direction of my room.

That was how it started. A series of rebound sex that never filled up the deep hole that Christy left behind.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

The Truth About Lies (I)

PROLOGUE

I am bored; bored to the teeth. Being bored is the worst situation you can ever find yourself but not always. Especially, if you’ve got a creative mind. The ability to string up words together to tell a story is a beautiful thing. I started writing because I was bored and sick of having conversations in my head so I thought to myself, hey why not write? If you’ve read through my blog which I started sometime in May, 2012, you can tell by now that I have an overactive imagination.

Most of the stories here are as a result of boredom which thankfully, led to creating this blog which has become a channel for my overactive mind. A very rewarding experience, I must say. Some are drawn from my personal experiences and some from those of others in close proximity while the rest are from my imagination. Who knows? If I didn’t find this outlet, I may have been walking on the street in my spare time having conversations with myself – what most would classify as symptoms of madness. Not really. On the contrary, I’m quite sane and as normal as it gets but there’s something about me that I’m yet to discover.

Most of my dear readers have suggested I settle down and write a novel. I know I should but asides from being bored, I’m quite a restless fellow too.

So, in the same way the Mickey Jay Series began and so many other short stories I’ve written, I’ve started this. That reminds me – I’ve still got a series I’m yet to complete: The Bridge Over Turbulent Waters. Honestly, I ran out of steam. I’ve still got ideas on how to continue but for restlessness. I’m thankful for the reception my stories have received. You all gave me the stamina to keep challenging myself to string up more episodes.

I hope I can do the same with this. It has an interesting title: I only pray the content will be just as interesting. So read, share and drop your comments.

Gracias amigos!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

………………………………………………

Hi. My name is John. I’m a lawyer by profession and by a little something that’s imbued in me by nature, I’m a sort of a lie detector too. Not a trained one as it has become a sort of science in civilized climes, but being a skillful liar myself, it kind of gives me a unique perspective into the mind set of a liar given a particular situation. My unconventional skill is not full proof but it works most of the time. Oh, and for the record, I’m not a skillful liar because I’m a lawyer. Not at all. You see, that cliche about lawyers being liars is quite stupid.

“All lawyers are liars”

I find the above quoted cliche totally objectionable on the ground that it is highly fallacious. If you are “learned”, you know what I mean. For the “unlearned”, let me elaborate. The above mentioned cliche is what we call the fallacy of hasty generalization. If you haven’t heard about it before, you’re hearing it now. Grab a pen and let me lecture you…nah, there’s google, GOOGLE IT UP!

I’ll tell you why its a fallacy. In my private moments, I’ve had cause to mull it over and I’ve come to the conclusion that whoever thought up that most presumptuous statement that, quite unfortunately, has been mistaken to be a veritable assertion by the ignorant and gullible few is such an idiot. If I could just meet whoever that character is, I would ask him/her just one question: have you met all the lawyers in the world? If his reply is in the positive, then I’ll know that the devil, who carries the grand appellation of “Father of all liars” has been usurped by the greatest liar of all. Bottom line is until you’ve met every single person of a particular category, never make general statements.

In other not to be misunderstood, I will not deny that lawyers lie; some of us do but so do other professionals when the occasion calls for it. However, the most interesting liars I have come across as a young man are women. Ah…there you go, characterizing me already as a chauvinist. I’m not a chauvinist, neither am I a misogynist. I love women with a passion; and in my prolific history with them, I have come across the greatest liars of all time. Yet, you’ll never hear me say “all women are liars”, I’m too smart for that. And you know why? Because I haven’t met all the women in the world and I know there are men who are even greater than I perceive myself to be. So whenever I hear people make such general statements – I’ll list a few;

“All Ibo men love money”
“All Yoruba women are dirty”
“All Hausa men are cattle rearers”
“All black men are monkeys”

I need no further testament to their undiluted stupidity.

Now that we’ve cleared that out of the way, I shall continue. I come to you bare, without an iota of pretension. I am a liar; just like you are. The little speech above was just to rid you of any malformed prejudice you may have gathered against my kind. Lawyers are actually the most honourable set of people you’ll ever meet. However, there are a few rotten apples. Those without an atom of respect for themselves, for the law, for their clients and even for God. We have them everywhere, and in every profession. I don’t care what you think but I know I am not among those. I lie, but for good reasons – good reasons to me anyway so before you go into an argument as to how there’s never a good reason to lie, I’m telling you straight up that its your damned business! My lies have done a lot of good; It has saved lives; it has ensured that justice was done and in odd cases, a lie has been used to fish out the truth!

I am a realist, a practical man; the world in which we live in is far from utopian. All such assertions are pretentious at best. We live in an imperfect world, filled with imperfect people and imperfect man-made laws and procedures so most times, there’s never a perfect solution. We have to improvise. That is what a lie is basically; at least, that’s what my own kind of lie is. I will never lie to put down my fellow man out of nothing but plain jealousy. People who do that are the scum of the earth, the worst kind. I lie for two reasons only; in the interest of self-preservation and to achieve an end, a just end. Yes, it may sound paradoxical, ironic even but as I regale you with tales, live tales of the injustice of this world, you may start to see things in a different light.

Some of my tales may shock you outright and show you the deviousness in the heart of man. My experience in life has taught me to never be surprised by the actions of human beings. The truth is humans are the worst kind of animals. Our love for evil goes beyond the need for survival. Its like the air we breathe for some; their hearts ache whenever they see the smile on the face of someone so they plot and carry out evil actions for whatever sadistic reason.
So, welcome to the world; the world as seen through my eyes.

Turning Tables (VI)

It has been over a month since I was discharged from the hospital. I was ready to resume work immediately after I was discharged but Chief wouldn’t hear of it. He was of the opinion that I needed a break to rest and get myself back. As a gesture of appreciation for the fine work I had been doing, Chief had a Honda Accord (End of discussion as it is popularly called) delivered to me the day I was discharged. My mother was overjoyed and full of praises for him. It really did feel nice to be appreciated. In the meantime, Omolara held the fort while I was away. He only called on me when he had a difficulty with some of the workers which I straightened out immediately. I decided the project was in capable hands. I made a mental note to reward him properly.

Lola and I spoke everyday as she decided not to step foot in my house with my mom around in order to avoid a scene. My mom made it quite clear that she wasn’t welcome and after several entreaties which fell on deaf ears, I encouraged my mom to go back home and take care of her business. She had gone into trading in clothing materials after she retired as a principal in one of the secondary schools in Awka, Anambra State. She left after two weeks of stifling pampering and nursing me back to health knowing I was well and able to take good care of myself. However, I think she entered an agreement with Max who always came visiting, more for her cooking than to see me, I believe. I suspected it was to keep a close eye on “that girl” and me.

The funny thing was Lola wasn’t the only one I was in constant contact with. Bola called me everyday to monitor my progress. During my stay at the hospital, we had become quite close. She would come to my room whenever she was free during her shift, mostly at night and we would talk for hours on end till she reluctantly left me to sleep. She was lively, fun to be with, intelligent, witty and very industrious. She told me about herself without leaving much out. Her parents wanted her to be a doctor but her dream had always been to be a nurse and after her 300L MBBS which she passed with flying colours, she summed up courage to face her parents and follow her passion. I found that I enjoyed her company a lot more than Lola’s which seemed to be too cautious, tense and calculated.

The day I was discharged, the look of melancholy on her face struck me even though she forced a smile. I knew I was going to miss her so I took her number promising her a treat as soon as I was fit enough. My mother watched our somewhat emotional exchange with attentiveness. She never said a word until we drove away from the hospital premises waving a teary-eyed Bola and the ever-smiling Dr. Ibrahim.

“Hmm. I don’t understand you sometimes. What is this fascination for Yoruba girls?” She asked.

“Me?” I asked, surprised.

“No, not you. The car seat.” She answered sarcastically. I laughed out loud.

“Nne! *Ibiago ozor!” I teased.

“No, I will say what I’m seeing. Why can’t you just find a nice Igbo girl and settle down, eh?”

“Is that the priority now? Let me get myself first before you bring that up kwanu!” I exclaimed.

“You know Chisom has come back from the UK where she went to do her masters. She will make a very good wife for you.”

“Nne, please let’s not start this again. I told you before that Chisom and I have nothing in common.” I said tiring of her incessant match-making efforts.

“What of Ebele? She is…”

“Who is Ebele?” I interrupted.

“Nonye’s daughter.” When I replied with a blank stare, she continued.

“That my friend that we were in choir together at St. Paul’s. Fair and short…don’t you remember her?” I knew who she was talking about but I wanted to discourage her from pushing it further so I told her I didn’t but my mother is not one to give up easily. She continued relentlessly.

“Her husband was the Permanent Secretary one tim…”

“Oh! I remember now. What about Ebele?” I asked, really bored.

“She’s working now. She has a good job – Zenith bank, I think…”

“But you know I can never marry a banker.” I jumped in.

She sighed. I could tell she was tired of my willful attitude.

“Is her job now the problem. If you don’t want her working in a bank, I’m sure she will quit if you tell her to. After all, God has blessed you…”

“She will just abandon her career for me, just like that?” I sneered.

“Yes oh. I have her number here.” My mom said reaching for her phone inside her bag.

“Mummy! Please stop all this now, haba!”

She went silent for a while. Max who was the designated driver was busy chuckling away. He knew how I and my mother were whenever the issue of marriage came up.

“Hmm. Well, I have tried – God is my witness. I’ve been watching you and that nurse.” As she said this, Max and I burst into laughter.

“Ehn! Laugh oh but you know its true. I don’t know what you see in these Yoruba girls…”

“Nne, **ozugo biko.” I chided. She was always so particular about me settling with an Igbo girl. I wouldn’t mind if I actually met one that caught my fancy but so far, none.

“Better her than that girl.” She said resignedly.

When she left, it felt good to have the house to myself again. Aunty Joy, her husband, their kids and Lola were among my first visitors. They were all impressed with my house and Aunty Joy commented that all that was left was a wife. She said this winking at me and Lola who went red. After a short while, they left promising to come back to visit soon, leaving Lola behind.

It was strange at first, having all this privacy to ourselves but we quickly got over it. From the moment I saw her at the hospital, I realised that I still found her desirable and right now, with her looking so fresh, so beautiful in her short brown dress, I felt an overpowering longing to ravish her body. When I reached out for her, she was supple, pliant. The need I saw in her eyes was surprisingly flattering. All previous tensions and caution gave way to repressed emotions. She surrendered completely as I rid her of her clothing as she struggled with mine as our piece of clothing flew about and made an untidy heap on the marble floor in my sitting room. When I saw her naked skin, I couldn’t believe she was still as beautiful as I remembered – only fuller. That was when the caged animal took over, the cold marble floor welcoming our entangled bodies lost in the heat of passion.

In a few minutes, we were panting and out of breath. She laughed nervously as she always did in time past after we made love and collapsed on my chest. My mind was blank and I was content to bask in the moment. We were about to get started again when my phone vibrated on the glass table. She reached for it and was about to hand it to me when the caller id caught her eyes and she looked at me with a mixture of dismay and displeasure.

I knew immediately who was calling.

………………………..

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Igbo Translations:

*E bia go ozor – You have started again.
**ozugo biko – Its enough please.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXVI)

February 2nd, 2013.
03: 47pm

I had to lie about having a brief office meeting to discourage Christy from holding me down. Weekends were sacred to her, especially saturday mornings. Since she moved in, she always insisted we slept till 10am on saturday mornings after which, we would get up and do the general house clean up together. The young lad I used to pay to do my laundry and clean up the house was not a happy man. He would still show up at my door step with hope in his eyes. After two saturdays of pity payment, I stopped going to the car wash and put his smile back on as I gave him the responsibility of ensuring my car was clean at all times.

I managed to wiggle out of Christy’s tight embrace and headed to the Galleria. I left the house a few minutes past 8 and deliberately took my time. I got there a few minutes to 9 after running into an unexpected hold up. I called Kunle and he picked up on the first ring.

“You finally made it.” He said cheerfully. “I’m having breakfast at Barcelos. Come and join me.”

I hung up and walked inside the massive fun paradise. It was crowded as always. Happy and excited kids milled about with their parents. Young and really pretty girls walked in the company of their Wizkid-looking boyfriends. The atmosphere was laced with the scent of fried chicken that wafted from the open space where the restaurant lay. I took the escalator up to the first floor and located where Kunle was. He was with a group of friends; two guys and four white girls. I didn’t know what to think but I suspected an ambush but it didn’t matter. I could take care of myself.

As I stepped in the massive diner, he spotted me and waved excitedly as if I was an old friend. I joined them where they sat while he went about introducing me as an “old friend”. This was hardly what I was expecting but I was quite familiar with the tactics. Give me a false sense of security and lull me into letting my guard down before he struck when I was at my most vulnerable. The four ladies – 3 Americans and a Brit seemed to focus on me as they besieged me with questions. It was their first visit to Nigeria and they seemed to be so in awe with what they had seen so far. However, the one called Chloe seemed to be way more than friendly and she made no attempt to disguise it. She left her seat and came to sit by me as we spoke.

The other two guys, Niyi and Shola took their leave shortly after I arrived. I didn’t blame them; it was hard trying to keep up with the many sweet sounding accented English that flooded my ears but I was used to it somehow. I had cousins who lived in the US and made my ears and brain hurt every Christmas in trying to keep up with what they were saying when I was a lot younger. They had probably had enough. We shook hands and they said they hoped to see me again sometime. It was highly unlikely but I nodded and smiled. Kunle seemed to sit back and watch with a relaxed smile on his face as Elise, Marie and the Brit, Charlotte entangled me in a web of entertaining banter. Chloe by this time, had taken to holding my arm affectionately and even attempted to feed me her half-eaten sausage which I politely declined. She was blonde, pretty and intelligent. They all were and I enjoyed their company immensely. Charlotte set the ball rolling when she commented that I was a wonderful specimen of an African man.

“You really are. I wish I could take you home with me.” Chloe said, looking me in the eye while batting hers. I was lost for a second as a gazed into her green eyes; they were like shiny pearls. Very beautiful.

“You’re not married, are you?” She asked frowning, when I remained silent.

“No, I’m not. Not yet. Just amazed at how beautiful and green your eyes are.” I said smiling. A hush fell over the table as everyone focused on me, Kunle inclusive. Now when I say she blushed, I mean it this time. I saw the motions as blood rushed to her cheeks, her eyes softened and she looked away.

“Wow. A friend warned me about Nigerian men. They’ve got the most sugary of tongues. Impressive charmers. I can confirm that now.” Charlotte said smiling at me. At that point, she gave a look like “You can so get it if you really want it.”

“That was really sweet.” Elise added. “I’m jealous.”

“Who told you that about Nigerian men?” I asked laughing.

“Oh, a Nigerian friend back home. I dated one many years ago in London too so I ought to know.” Charlotte said haughtily.

“Really? What happened?” I asked.

“He left me for a black woman.” She said casually.

“Oops. Sorry.” I said apologetically.

“That was a long time ago. I’m over it.” She smiled wryly. “Apparently, I wasn’t round enough.” She said describing the thickness of the African woman’s breasts and backside with funny gestures. I had to laugh.

“So Chloe strikes gold!” Marie clapped laughing. When I looked at her confused, Marie continued.

“She’s been complaining about how all the really cute guys seem to have been taken.” I laughed at this.

“I think you ladies are getting carried away.” Kunle interjected. “Can’t you tell a player when you see one?” He was getting obviously uncomfortable about how I seemed to flow with ease.

“Oh, we sure can. Being in the midst of two…” Elise said, winking mischievously. I laughed again.

“Now she’ll finally get laid and we can all be happy.” Marie continued.

“Oh, shut up!” Chloe said, blushing some more.

“Oh please! You’re always so choosy.” Marie said, gently taking her long and jet black hair backwards.

“Yeah. But perhaps the search for the Nigerian version of Idris Elba has ended?” Elise said, smiling.

“But I don’t look like Idris Elba. He does.” I said, pointing to Kunle who had been observing me the whole time.

He smiled wryly as I managed to deflect the attention from myself to him.

“I told you ladies. I’m here on a mission to find my bride…a Nigerian bride.” He said, trying to dissociate himself. A thought occurred to me.

“You know what’s funny? We are currently caught in a triangle at the moment.”

“A love triangle?” Charlotte asked wide eyed.

“Something like that.” I said smiling, reveling in the shock on Kunle’s face.

“He stole my girl but I’m going to win her back.” He said flustered.

“Where is she now?” Chloe asked.

“At my place.”

“Ouch!” Charlotte said.

“For real?!” Chloe exclaimed. She looked at Kunle and I incredulously. “And you guys are sitting here together, as friends? Wow!”

“We’re not really friends.” Kunle said.

“I’ll never understand men. I’m sure if it were the other way round, we’d be tearing our hairs out!” Marie said.

“Can I see her picture?” Elise asked.

“Oh, sure.” I said, reaching for my phone. When I sorted a picture out, Chloe snatched the phone.

“Oh my! She’s beautiful.” She gasped. “And you both look great together!” She exclaimed sadly. Elise, Marie and Charlotte almost tripped over each other to get a good look.

“There goes my Idris Elba.” Chloe pouted.

“Never say never.” I said, winking at her and she squeezed my thighs from under the table and gave her most flashing smile.

“I don’t think you stand a chance, Kunle.” Charlotte said finally pronouncing Kunle as “Ku-unlaay”

“You think?” Kunle said. “I’ve got the aces.” He said confidently.

“Show me.” Marie said.

Kunle regarded me with an evil but victorious smile before he reached for his iPad which lay on the empty chair beside him.

At that moment, I knew the jig was up!

It had previously occurred to me that his antics at Christy’s office was going to get Kemi’s attention. I knew Kemi still held a grudge against me for the “ceremonious” send-off I held for her when she tried to do me in and I’ve lived in fear since he started sending gifts to Christy at the office. That was the only thing that could make me concede defeat. I wasn’t shocked and I wasn’t surprised. I was just numb.

The first thing we heard was the moaning of the other girl before he adjusted the volume. The sounds made them all flock around him. I just sat still with a blank expression on my face. I took a sip of water to wet my parched throat. The look of incredulity on their faces was to die for. They all looked up at me to confirm I was the porn star in the flick before continuing. Kunle handed them the device and they settled down more comfortably while he leaned back with a satisfied smile.

There was nothing else I could do, so I smiled back.

“So, she got to you.” I asked quietly.

“She did. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.” He said grinning evilly. He leaned forward on the table and said in a hushed tone, “Why bother with what’s mine when you can have her?”

I looked away, feeling rather deflated. Chloe, Charlotte, Elise and Marie were full of excited giggles now. The looked at me and whispered among themselves and giggled some more. I wasn’t embarrassed, I just didn’t want Christy to ever set eyes on that video.

“Do you really think Christy will take you back when she sees this? It’ll destroy her. She’ll hate all men because of me, and that includes you.” I said.

“No, she won’t. She’ll need a shoulder to cry on and I’ll be right there. I know her better than you ever will.” He said smugly.

I looked away and weighed the options.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“No, what are YOU going to do?” He said, posing the question back to me.

I shrugged. For the first time in a long while, I was absolutely clueless, just like the president.

“Break up with her. She doesn’t have to know. Do that and she’ll never see this video clip. I give you my word.” He said behind his infuriating smile.

I nodded.

Chloe spoke up first. She left the others and came and sat next to me and held my hand. She regarded me with pity in her eyes for a while before she spoke.

“I’m sorry darling, but I think you’re screwed.” She said with deep sincerity written all over her face.

I smiled sadly but said nothing.

“Whew! You’re quite a stallion.” Marie said smiling mischievously. When she saw my expression, her excitement dampened.

“Ku-unlaay, do you really have to do this?” She asked.

“All is fair in love and war.” Kunle said as he continued to smile. Charlotte and Elise handed Kunle the iPad and whispered amongst themselves. They wanted to leave.

“Here’s my card. Call me if you want to talk. I’ll be around for the next couple of weeks.” Chloe said, handing me a card she had just written her number on after consulting her mobile phone.

“I will.” I said smiling. She kissed me lightly on the cheek and smiled and they all said their goodbyes and left.

I sat there alone for a couple of minutes thinking about my life and how I had managed to ruin it all. I knew Kemi was going to strike back somehow and Kunle was the tool. I could still carry out my threat but it would be useless; it wouldn’t give me any satisfaction. I drove back home with an utterly blank mind. Christy was preparing breakfast when I got back home.

“How did it go?” She asked cheerfully before planting a wet one on my unresponsive lips. She looked me in the eye and held my face, her pretty eyes worried.

“Are you alright, baby?”

I sighed heavily before I replied. “Darling, we need to talk.”

To be continued…

This episode is fondly dedicated to Justus Esiri – The Village Headmaster. I never missed an episode as a kid. That is how I’ll always remember you. May your soul rest in peace.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Turning Tables (V)

The accident hadn’t dulled my anticipation to see her. She was like an apparition that had haunted my dreams for so long before she suddenly metamorphosed into reality. She wore a blue flowered dress that matched her blue and red hand bag. I felt that familiar knot in my stomach as she walked towards me slowly but deliberately, her face showing a mixture of joy, relief and sadness. Her hair was long, falling to her shoulders. She looked every bit as pretty as I had imagined. The atmosphere in the room changed the moment my mom and Maxwell became aware of her presence. I could feel the heat from their intense stare of dislike as she drew nearer to where I lay on the bed.

“Good afternoon ma.” She said timidly.

“Hmph.” My mother answered with spite and went about what she was doing, totally ignoring her existence. Lola wanted to continue with some courtesy questions but thought better of it. They had met just once many years ago when my mother came for a wedding in Lagos. When my mother heard about our break-up, she celebrated. She never really liked Lola and Lola was well aware of this fact.

“Hi Max.” She said. Max merely nodded and continued to stare at her with a blank look that seemed to say “some nerve you’ve got coming here”. The hostility in the room was so stifling, I wondered how she managed to breathe. Her gaze finally came to me as she drew nearer to my left side of the bed where Maxwell stood. I noted with amusement at how she avoided my mothers side. He shifted to make room for her. Her smile was like the sun.

“How are you doing?” She asked, holding my hand. The faint wafts of her familiar perfume danced around my nostrils.

“Just glad to be alive.” I said and smiled back. “Never thought we’d being seeing each other for the first time in many years like this.”

“I’m so sorry. I almost feel like its…” She hesitated, looking first at my mother who seemed to be totally oblivious of her presence and then at Maxwell, who was by now, quite busy with his phone but paying attention nonetheless.

She broke into a whisper. “Can I come back later?” She asked. Her eyes were pleading desperately.

“Sure. Just hang around. They will all be leaving soon.”

She smiled with relief and excused herself. As soon as she left, my mother let out a long hiss that shocked me. My mother had always been one who preferred to mind her business and not interfere in how I ran my life, except I was seriously going astray and the one time she did was the first time she met Lola many years ago at a cousin’s wedding.

“Nne, what is it this time, eh? *O gini?” I asked.

“Nothing oh. Is that not the girl that left you for another man? What is she doing here?” She asked.

“She is. Can’t she come and pay me a visit?”

“Of course she can. You know me. I won’t say anything but I want to believe you are a lot wiser now and will not let history repeat itself.” My mom replied as she arranged the fruits and beverages she came with. A steaming plate of goat meat pepper soup was right before me which I ravenously devoured in record time. The pepper awoke my taste buds and I drank lots of water.

“But you had better be careful. She’s married now, isn’t she?” She asked.

“She was widowed shortly after her wedding.” I said.

“Jesus’ mo!” She exclaimed. “What happened?!”

As I explained, my mother eyes went wide with shock and when I was done, she was wild. “You had better not have any plans of taking her back! She must have some form of ill-luck following her around. She may even have a spirit husband. God forbid that my son will fall into something like that while I’m alive!”

“Mama!” I exclaimed. “So you won’t even show any compassion for a widow like your self?”

“I have compassion for her but she can take her problems elsewhere! The fact that she’s a widow should frighten you more. You that nearly lost all purpose in life because she left you for a wealthier man is talking to me about compassion? **Agbisi gbaa otule, o muru ako.” She said heatedly.

“What if she was widowed because she belongs to me?” I asked innocently. Max scoffed sarcastically.

“Taaa! Don’t say that again. Don’t ever say that!!” She cautioned. “My problem with you is that you don’t listen.”

“Mama, please…I have a headache.” I said weakly, not wanting to engage her any further in the argument.

“I know what I suffered to raise you up. One useless girl will not spoil all my hard work.” She fumed.

Maxwell who had been silent the whole time, listening to our exchange finally spoke up.

“You should listen to your mother. Lola is bad news for you. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the fact that you were on your way to see her.”

My mom gasped.

“He was going to see that girl when this happened?! She must not come near this place again!!” She screamed.

“Nne, you want me to die from headache, abi?” I said angrily.

“I’m sorry, my son. All I want for you is the best…” She said, calming down instantly but it didn’t stop the unintelligible mutters.

Maxwell wasn’t bullied in any way. “That girl will ruin you before you know it. Did you know that when Chief came here to see you, she was already putting herself out there like she was your girl?”

I was shocked but I reminded myself that Max had the tendency to be hyperbolic.

“She introduced herself as my girlfriend?” I asked.

“No but her actions did. She was fussing all over you like no one cared more than she did.” He said, well aware that once again, I had pricked his windy balloon of exaggeration.

“Max, I’m feeling sleepy abeg. I need to rest a bit. Take my mom home.”

As if on cue, the busty nurse came in with my drugs and announced that it was time for me to take a little rest. My mom was ready to go but I could see she was greatly troubled about this new info she had just learned. She knew I was a willful fellow and would always do what I wanted to. After extracting from me what I wanted to eat, she advised me to be careful. She would be back in a few hours with my dinner. Max gave me a handshake and they left.

Nurse Bola – I read her name off her name tag – made light jokes with me as she administered my intravenous medication and arranged my bed. She seemed to derive pleasure from thrusting her breasts in my face and I didn’t mind. I made a comment about that and she was laughing when Lola came back in.

“Visiting time is over, madam. The patient has to rest.” She said politely.

“Its ok, Bola. I want to see her…just briefly, I promise.” I said, pleading with her.

“Ok handsome.” She said smiling. She picked my chart and left, totally ignoring Lola’s stern look.

“I don’t like that nurse.” She said jealously after a short while. “She’s rude.”

“Serious? I haven’t noticed. She’s been nothing but nice to me and I like her just fine.” I said mischievously. She didn’t respond but looked away. Now that she was here, after the initially rush and anticipation that came with wanting to see her, the events of four years ago began to replay in my head as I juxtaposed it with my current situation.

She settled down on the chair close to my bed and held my hand.

“How do you feel?” She asked softly.

“Just a little pain but I’ll survive.” I said. She looked down at my hands as she massaged them and a tear rolled down her eye.

“I feel like this is all my fault.” She sobbed.

“Now, why would you say that? You weren’t driving the truck. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” I said, holding her hands. She smiled through her tears and leaned on the bed to embrace me. Her sobbing increased as I patted her back and comforted her.

“Its okay. You don’t have to cry.” I cooed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She pleaded.

“What are you sorry for?” I asked, surprised.

“For what I did to you. I was such a fool…I want to make it right. I just need one more chance.” She said, pulling away from the embrace to look me in the eyes.

There was pain, there was sincerity in her eyes. I had come this far because my heart wanted to give her a second try. I needed to know if she was the reason I still hadn’t found somebody else.

“Well, we can try but its going to be challenging…for you.” I said softly.

“I know.” She replied.
……………………..

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Igbo Translations:
*O gini? – What is it?
**Agbisi gbaa otule, o muru ako! – A person who gets bitten on the buttocks by an insect will be more careful about where he sits.

The Enduring Love That Saved

“Daddy, daddy! When are you coming back? Tomorrow is Valentine oh!”

Tobe laughed at the statement from his precocious 5 year old son.

“What do you need me back home for? You know daddy is away on business or have you got plans for someone special that you need my help with?” He played on.

“Yes.” He could imagine the facial expression, coupled with a furious nod as Young Ikenna replied.

“Ok. Talk to daddy. What are you planning and who is this person you want to plan for.”

There was a little silence as Ikenna seemed to be consulting someone.

Aha, I knew it! He thought to himself. Miriam was trying orchestrate his early return and she was using the boy to get at him. It was now a favorite ploy of hers for 5 years since she gave birth to their only child. She would send Young Ikenna like an emissary to him to make requests that she felt she couldn’t bring to him directly and because he adored the boy, he never refused.

“I want to go the amusement park.” Ikenna piped. “And I want lots of ice cream!” He added.

Tobe laughed and said: “You know that’s not a problem. Your mum can take you anywhere you want to go.”

“But I want us all to go together.” He said, the excitement in his tone dropping considerably.

“Well, daddy has to work but don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you. I’m bringing home a new car racing game for you.”

“Yay!!!” He screamed excitedly as his voice became distant from the phone which indicated he had gone into one of his favoured victory dances. Tobe heard Miriam’s laughter which proved he was right. She eventually came on line.

“So when are you coming back?” She asked quietly.

“Saturday, most likely.” He said.

They had been married for almost six years. Ikenna was the result of an unprotected indiscretion which solidly bonded their future together, albeit unwillingly. Tobe at the beginning had seen Young Ikenna as an obstruction to his high and lofty dreams and had tried to bully Miriam into getting an abortion but she would have none of that. While they were still in the process of negotiation, she got her parents involved and the whole thing blew up in the open. His parents were furious with him and insisted he got married to Miriam immediately. So at the age of 21, just about to enter his finals in the University and with Miriam just 19 in her second year, they had a small and quiet wedding ceremony.

He never quite forgave her for going to her parents without consulting him. He lost the complete confidence of his parents and had to work hard to placate them. Eventually, he warmed his way back into their hearts as he became a very responsible parent and managed to keep a good home but the marriage was hell to him. There was not a spark in it for him and had it not been for Ikenna, he would have nothing to look forward to going home. Miriam was beautiful, well-kept, homely, nice and everything the perfect wife should be but he couldn’t bring himself to love her. He never tried even though he had to admit that he was glad she had refused to abort the pregnancy that turned out to be his wonderful son. She had given him the greatest gift and in return, he provided for her, made her feel comfortable and was always civil with her. However, the resentment over the forced marriage drove him into the arms of Crystal – a girl he had a thing with back then in school. They had been together for almost three years and as business got good, he placed her in an apartment at Asokoro where he spent most of his time whenever he was in Abuja. He had plans to be with her tomorrow even though he ought to be have been back in Lagos two days before.

“Ann is back from the UK.” Miriam continued, jolting him back to the present.

“Oh, good. Hope her trip went well?” He asked.

“Yes, it did. She wants to take Ikenna for the weekend so I was thinking…” She hesitated.

“Thinking what?” He asked curiously.

“I miss you, my husband. You haven’t touched me in almost a year. For how long are you going to treat me like this?” She blurted out, crying suddenly.

He was shocked. She never complained. In five years, she had never complained.

“What are you talking about? Am I a bad husband?” He asked defensively.

“No.” She said, still sniffing.

“Don’t I take care of you?”

“Yes, you do. You are wonderful but I need you and I need you to need me. I’ve never complained because I was afraid of pushing you away but what’s the point of that when you’re never around. I’ve tried to please you but you don’t seem to still want me after all these years. Since we got married, you’ve never spent a Valentine’s day with me…”

“I can’t believe you chose today to bring this up?” He cut in.

“I am tired of hoping and praying things go back to the way they were before we were married. I have kept up with this charade for years. I lie to your mother whenever she asks me if I’m happy but I’m dying on the inside…I can’t take this anymore…please come back home…to me…” She sobbed.

Tobe was silent. He never knew she capable of such emotions. She had always adjusted almost stoically. She was a strong woman but for her to break down like this…

“Let’s talk about this when I get back.” He said, feeling the sting of guilt.

“Please come back tomorrow.”

“I can’t. I’ve still got a lot to attend to.”

“Ok.” She said with resignation in her voice.

When he hung up, the feeling of guilt was overpowering. He would have given her an out but he knew she wouldn’t have it and neither would he give it because of Young Ikenna. The only love they shared with equal fire was for their son.

………………….

“The man has money, abi?” The man with the gruff voice asked.

“Yes he does. Please, don’t hit me again. I will tell you where he will be when he comes.” The smaller voice replied, nodding furiously, quaking with fear.

“I won’t hit you again. I don’t want to ruin your face. I’ve got money riding on that pretty face of yours.”

She whimpered as tears streamed down her face. She watched in fear at the rough and hardened face that matched the gruff, evil voice. He was a bulky fellow with muscles rippling through his tight t-shirt. It was dark; just after 10′o clock when she drove inside the compound of her 3 bedroom flat where she lived alone when the four men, all dressed up in black sprung out from nowhere and overpowered Musa, the may guard. She had just come back after a very busy day hanging out with her friends, shopping for a dinner gown, and sexy lingerie in preparation for the Valentine’s day outing and the night afterwards with her man. El Coco’s two “associates” had covered the premises and were still in the process of brutalizing Musa. The other two ruffled through her hand bag and extracted the remaining sum of a N145,000 which was the left over from her shopping spree.

“Boss, look.” One of the men said. He handed El Coco the sum which he pocketed.

“So you don’t have money to pay me but you have money to go shopping, eh?

He also handed over two small, neatly tied nylons containing “angel dust”.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here!” He exclaimed as he untied the first of them and tasted it.

“Hmm. This is good stuff.” He said as he smacked his lips. He tied it back with care and dumped both nylons in his pocket.

“So, you have found another supplier when you still owe me, eh? You think I’m a fool?!” He said menacingly, as his face gradually became a mask of fury that betrayed his intentions. She barely had a second to tense her face, expecting another hot slap as a punch slammed into her stomach. She doubled over in pain from the grip of the last man who held her securely. Her consciousness wavered for an instant but she revived as the cough which seemed to come from nowhere escaped her lips. Tears poured from her eyes as she saw her own blood touch the interlocking tiles of the compound floor. She tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out.

“You greatly disappoint me and you deserved to be punished.” He said gently as he towered over her and loosened his belt buckles.

She mumbled a weak protest as he lifted up her gown and ripped off her satin panties…

………………….

“So where are you guys heading to?” Tobe asked.

“Home of course!” Olamide replied at the incredulous question. “My wife sent the kids to my parents. We are having candle light dinner by the pool and having sex afterwards…hehehe…inside the pool!” He said, grinning mischievously.

Benjamin and Donald laughed hard.

“Be sure you drain the pool after that.” Benjamin said grinning evilly. “Wouldn’t want the kids wallowing in filth now, would we?”

“You love your wife sha!” Donald said.

“Before nko!” Olamide retorted.

“I’ve got one smallie waiting in my hotel room. She’s fresh meat. You remember that girl we met at that dinner party last month?” Benjamin said.

“The light complexioned one with huge boobs?!” Donald asked in surprise.

“That wore that skimpy black gown?” Olamide queried further.

“That’s the one! She’s loving up man. I’m getting her down tonight.” Benjamin grinned.

A volley of laughter followed. “I had eyes for that girl o. How did you beat me to it?” Donald asked incredulously.

“Don Juan strikes again!” Tobe hailed as they laughed.

“All these small small girls una dey follow go put una inside wahala one day. Just look at all of you…una nor know say una don old. Husbands and fathers!” He said contemptuously.

“Abeg, park go one side jor! Saint Olamide!” They all laughed.

“I bid you all farewell then. Home calls.” Olamide took one last sip of water from his glass and was off.

“You’re with Crystal tonight, right?” Benjamin asked after a while.

“Yeah. She’ll be here any minute.” Tobe answered.

“I really don’t know what you see in that girl. She’s old, not even as pretty as Miriam and she’s a junkie.” Donald said.

“Was! And she’s a star where it matters!” Tobe declared and they all laughed again.

“You must be blind to think she’s clean. She’s still using. I know it!” Donald insisted.

“One man’s meat, another’s poison.” Benjamin said.

“Abeg, tell am for me!” Tobe echoed.

“Instead of you to tell me to hook you up with some fresh babes…you remember Natasha? She’s got this beautiful friend. I would have given her to you but no need sef. I’ll save her for my self.”

“Donald, don’t be greedy. Share the fun!” Benjamin chided.

“Gerrout! The one when you get never reach you, abi?”

The door to the classy mini bar and restaurant opened and Crystal stepped in. She had on an above-the-knee red gown that traced her sharp figure. The design of her dress did a good job of exposing her fair and supple breasts, barely hiding her nipples. Donald was the first to sight her. He nudged Tobe who looked back and waved to her. Her mean cat walk attracted stares from all over. Donald whistled quietly. Tobe laughed.

“You were saying…?” He asked mockingly at Donald.

He stood up and gave her a peck on her check. Her smile was radiant but there was something in her eyes. They were glazed. Was it excitement?

After she said “hi” to them, Benjamin and Donald rose and left.

“You’re looking dashing tonight, as always.” Tobe said after she had settled down.

“And you’re looking dapper yourself.” She said smiling. He let his hands creep under her skirt but she shooed his hands away gently, smiling coyly.

“Let’s order.” He said as he opened the menu but she declined.

“I’m not hungry for food. I want something else.” She said seductively.

He looked up surprised.

“You want something else? Tell me.” He said closing the menu and putting it aside. She drew nearer and whispered in his ears as she massaged his thighs. Her words gave him an instant hard on.

“Really?” He asked looking her in the eyes.

“Yes.” She said coyly, extending her hand to the bulge in his trousers. No further words were needed. They went outside and she handed him the keys to the Toyota RAV4 he bought her last year. As he drove out of the parking lot, she unzipped his trouser and swallowed him.

“Whoa!” He exclaimed with pleasure. She knew how to throw up crazy surprises every now and then. It was going to be one hell of a night, he thought. He didn’t notice the Toyota Camry that followed as he left the compound.

They were along Sani Abacha Express way, a long stretch of road usually lonely by this time of the night when he could he felt the pressure mounting and could take it no more. He pulled over to the kerb and kept the engine running. He adjusted his seat and pulled her to him. He attacked her breasts with a hunger he had never known. She moaned with pleasure, totally lost. She mounted him on the driver seat and when he entered, he could feel her wetness dripping.

“Damn, girl!” He muttered as she rode him and sweet sensations coursed through his body, albeit uncomfortably but with an urgency – as if the world was coming to an end. Her breasts, now freed from the inconvenience of the tight gown that barely held them in place, jumped like overripe water melons that hung on a restless branch. Her moans turned to screams of pain, passion and pleasure and in that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them and the limiting space of the car that restricted free movement.

The simultaneous sound of the crash of the windows on both the driver and passenger sides brought him back from cloud nine.

“What the hell?!” He exclaimed as he engage the gear on Drive and stepped on the gas with Crystal still on top of him! Crystal let out an ear-piercing scream that momentarily disoriented him. He couldn’t see where he was going but was aware of the screeching sound of a car behind that blasted its full headlights, momentarily blinding him but that was the least of his worries. As he speed off, he struggled to get Crystal off him and had just succeeded when the car, which had picked up speed rammed into his side making him swerve to avoid the pedestrian pavement but it was too late. The Toyota slammed into cement stand of the street light damaging the radiator instantly. His head jerked forward and slammed the windshield. He was dimly aware of the spider cracks that spread on the glass.

He was stunned, his head was bruised but he was largely unharmed. Crystal had managed to hold on to the dashboard on impact and was lucky as the impact flung her backwards against her seat.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

Before she could reply, strong hands gripped his shirt and pulled him out through the shattered passenger windows which tore through his shirt and skin. As he was dumped on the floor, he felt a hard boot crash into his rib cage and felt a snap as his ribs cracked.

“You want to run, eh?” El Coco screamed as he kicked again and again. Tobe curled himself into a fetus to protect his head and what was left of his ribs. He was dimly aware of two other men opening the back door of the car and taking out his brief case. El Coco searched his back pocket and retrieved his well-stuffed wallet. He removed the money which amounted to about N65,000 and an atm card dumped the wallet with disgust.

“Your girl owes me half a million.” He said grabbing a nearly unconscious Tobe by his shirt. “I’m going to get that money now or I’ll kill you!”

“Please, don’t kill him!” Crystal cried. “He has money. He’ll pay you.” She rushed to Tobe.

“Baby, please pay them so that they can leave us alone!” She said shaking them.

“Y…you? You know this people?!” He stammered weakly.

“I don’t, I swear – I’ll explain later just give them your pin and they’ll leave us alone.” She pleaded.

“Ahhh….” He moaned weakly, more out of the realisation that he had been set up than the pain that raged all through his body. The reflection of the street lights around him seemed to grow bigger in his eyes.

“What’s your atm pin?” El Coco raged as he aimed another kick at his ribs. He saw the kick coming and attempted to cover with his hands and move away from it when the boot collided with the side of his head. Blackout was instant.

……………………..

He awoke two days later on a hospital bed severely bandaged all over. The pain was unbearable and as his view cleared up, he saw Miriam on her knees weeping and praying. Her head was tousled and she seemed not to have had a bath in days but he had never seen anything so beautiful. He felt the tears run down his cheeks.

“Mimi.” He whispered. The pain he felt was unbelievable but he didn’t care. He was alive and she was here! As she heard his voice, she jumped up with tears in her eyes and touched his face gently.

“My love, you’ve come back to me!” She said, wiping her tears. The joy in her eyes gave him a glimpse into her soul.

“Yes darling. I’m back for good.” He said weakly. A nurse stepped into the room and when she saw them both talking, she spoke to someone in the hall.

“Get Dr. Hassan. The patient is awake!”

Happy Valentine y’all!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXV)

February 1st, 2013.
11:29pm.

Assumption is truly the mother of all fuck ups. It is the principal ingredient that births the folly of false security. Never underestimate the capacity of a human being to hold a grudge. I think I was lulled by the fact that Christy agreed to move in with me. The last few weeks we spent together gave me a glimpse of what marriage is actually like. Its not so bad; the companionship, the wonder meals, the laughs, the plans and the like, but it was awfully stifling for a free spirited individual like me. It was something I could grow back into though. I had to be a gentleman all round and resist the urge that gripped me every now and then to stray. Come to think of it, I hadn’t strayed in a couple of months; it has got to be a record!

The irony about it all was that suddenly, I was getting all this attention from other ladies. The moment I kind of put it out there that I was official seeing someone seriously, the forces of evil turned against me. Pamela, the new girl in my office never stopped flirting with me. When she heard from the office grapevine about me and Nike, it didn’t deter her. Nike never stopped trying to seduce me at the slightest opportunity at the office hoping for a repeat performance of our rambunctious episode in the conference room last year. She kept reminding me about the dinner owed her. I ran into Maggie, my last serious date before I met Christy at Shoprite when I went to pick up some beverages. She wanted us to hangout once more to talk about what went wrong between us when she found I wasn’t married, even though I told her I was seeing someone. We exchanged numbers and I promised her I’d call, knowing I wouldn’t. I ran into Temitope, one of my many MAULAG flings last Sunday at the Silverbird Cinemas when Christy and I went to see “Django”. She was in the company of her formidable gang – Sandra, Kimberly and Ufoma. Sandra wouldn’t say hi because she was still smarting from the fact that I broke her heart when she found I had infiltrated her crew after giving false hopes about us dating after all said and done. Kimberly was all smiles and she flirted with me shamelessly in front of Christy – our thirty minutes of urgent passion in the back seat of my car early last year forever fresh in mind and she winked invitingly. Then, there was this junkie half-Italian belle – Maria. I met her at the airport when I went to pick up a package for my boss. We met at a bachelor eve party two years ago and had a wild night. She loved sex and cocaine. She wanted to hook up too: had to tell her I was getting married the following weekend to get her off my back… it was all too much!

Fortunately, Christy didn’t give me much hell about the few she got to meet. As a matter of fact, she seemed to be amused at my apparently long string of conquests and was quick to point out to me the ones that still fancied me. When she asked for their stories, I declined telling her the past was past. Somehow, I found it weird that she seemed so nice, accommodating and even indulgent to a lot of my habits, especially her insistence at accompanying me to my Saturday hangout with the boys last week. I reasoned she was trying to gauge opinions on how I was seen by my boys, and on two occasions, alcohol-loosened lips almost sunk my ship. Still, it didn’t ruin anything between us. At least, not then.

Kunle continued to lavish her office and home address with gifts and when he discovered she was in the process of moving in with me, the gifts stopped coming to her house but continued to jam pack her office. Even a couple of staffs of hers who I thought were on my side had begun to sway in his direction. He took to bringing gifts personally for everyone in her section and interacting with them and before long, they softened up towards the “down-to-earth Nigerian-American basketball star”. Without Christy asking, he deposited over two hundred thousand dollars in fixed deposit with the bank and shortly after, the branch manager was wooing Christy on Kunle’s behalf.

Oddly, I was kept in the dark about this new development. Christy never mentioned this to me and I was furious about it when my informant gave me this latest update. I decided to give her time to do this but it seemed it wasn’t on the agenda. Apparently, I had made a grave mistake assuming I was winning because Christy had moved in with me. I began to panic and was considering proposing to Christy on Valentine’s day when a dramatic change that altered the course of victory for me occurred.

I was just getting to the parking lot where I had parked my car at the office after working late. It was 9:45pm and Christy had just called to tell me she had was already home when my phone rang again. It was an unregistered number.

“Hello.”

“Mickey Jay…Mickey Jay…or should I say Michael Jackson?” The unmistakable American accent cooed. I knew who it was but I was so out of my wits that I didn’t know when I decided to play dumb.

“Who’s this?” I asked, my voice hardening in anger.

“I like what you did with your name. Not many people know Mickey Jay actually stands for Michael Jackson, do they? I agree with you. Its a pretty lame name and Mickey Jay sounds so much better.” He mocked.

I was shocked. I never told anyone but my dad is a great fan of the King of Pop and I was named after him.

“So, you’ve been digging?” I said, regaining my composure. “You mind telling me who you are?”

“What? You’ve forgotten all about me already?” He asked, his voice taunting.

“Is this Kunle?” I asked in mock realisation.

“Yes, it is. Do you forget so easily or are you just trying to act like you have?” He asked laughing

“Oh, pardon me. I seldom forget memorable people.” I said quietly.

“Touche!” He exclaimed. “So, you are as witty as they say. I’m impressed.” He said laughing.

“I’m guessing you didn’t call to ask how memorable you are to me because if that’s why you called, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m not gay.” I said icily.

I heard him catch his breath. I could imagine the change of expression on his face and I felt pure joy.

“Ok, let’s not fight over the phone. I want us to meet. I’ve got a proposition to make to you. Let’s meet.”

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t hang up on you right now. I’ve had a long day and the last thing I need right now is a prank call.” I said, tiredly as I unlocked my car door.

He laughed. “This is no prank call, I assure you. As you rightly guessed, I’ve been digging. I know something that you know but Christy knows nothing about.”

He paused for effect before he continued.

“I’m sure you’ll be mighty pleased with my offer. Its one you can’t refuse.” He said.

I had to laugh. After a long and hard laugh, I apologized.

“I’m sorry. For a second there, I thought I was watching The Godfather.”

“I’m really not pleased that you’re making a sport out of this.” He said heatedly. He was beginning to lose his cool.

“Oh, come on! Who are we kidding? Its been a sport from the word go.” After a pause, I asked.

“Time and place?”

“There’s this cozy little bar on Bourdillion at Ikoyi. Think you can’t make it there now?”

“That’s out of my route. Pick another place and time.” I said curtly.

“Ok. Tomorrow at the Galleria. 8am?”

“8am’s good.” I said and hung up.

An offer I can’t refuse, I mused. What a joker, I thought cockily.

(To be continued…)

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm

Turning Tables (IV)

I feel like I am strapped to the bed. I try to move but I can’t. When I realise that I can’t move, I start to panic. The room I’m in is large and surreal; my brain tells me I’m in the hospital but it certainly doesn’t look, feel or smell like one. I feel like I am in one of those dorm rooms with double decked beds in boarding school. The walls are white, the room is tidy; I count about ten empty double deck beds. Where is everyone, I wonder? Why am I here? Is this some kind of punishment? But secondary school was years ago. What am I doing here?

As if to answer my question, I hear slow but deliberate footsteps behind me. I try without success to crane my neck to see who is coming but I am immobile. I can only move my head a few inches. I don’t have to after a time as her familiar perfume hits my olfactory. I try to call her name, but there is no sound; just the desperate movement of my lips. She is wearing the same dress she wore the last time I saw her four years ago.

“They say you may never be able to walk…” Her voice is sweet, clear and crisp. I am more intrigued by the music in her voice than by what she says.

“…or move any part of your body again.” She pauses for effect, but it doesn’t register with me…yet. She sits down on the chair beside me. I see her touch my hand but I can’t feel a thing! I’m alarmed now and make a tentative attempt to move – it is like exerting myself on the inside with no visible reaction on the outside.

“Paraphlegia…that’s what the doctor said.” She continues. “Its a spinal cord injury below your 7th cervical vertebrae. Few people recover partially from this after proper therapy. Others don’t.”

She sounds so professional, like she’s a doctor herself. I am more focused on her red blouse; there is something about it. An unpleasant memory because it makes me sad just looking at it.

“I tried Tony but I can’t. I can’t put up with seeing you like this.” She says as tears well up her eyes. She is so pretty and for a while, I get lost just looking at her pretty face; her wet eyes shine like pearls, her nostrils – they have a caucasian quality about them, her trembling but succulent lips…I remember when I used to kiss them.

“I’m leaving you!” She says suddenly. As she utters those words, the room spins and she seems to fade into the background of the room. I find my voice and I scream her name. My voice is croaked at first, the first sound slightly above a whisper. I feel strength in my arms and I reach out for her, to hold her back but she has become a mirage. Her once solid form disintegrates at my touch as she becomes a wisp of smoke before my very eyes.

“Not again!” I say to myself. Not again! The tidy dorm room, the deck beds, the whitewashed walls and her fast fading outline swirls faster and faster into a circular vortex of nothingness and all I’m left with is a bright light, a quiet and consistent hum and the familiar smell of antiseptic.

My eyes opened!

I was in a hospital. I had to squint my hurting eyes at the blinding light from the energy-saving bulb at the center of the room, which held my gaze. I turned my neck; it moved with ease. I moved my hands and my legs – they moved with a measure pain but they moved. I tried to sit up, that was when I felt the unbearable pain in my head. It felt as if someone just drove a sharp nail into my skull and I saw dancing lights before my eyes as I sunk back into the pillow losing my grip on consciousness at the speed of light. Before my lights went out, I saw her – she was curled up on the couch, asleep.

Darkness.

My eyes opened lazily as I felt a sweet and lazy sensation course through me. I felt like I was high. A young nurse with the biggest breasts I’d ever seen was in the process of wrapping a white cloth on my head. Her voluptuous cleavage was all in my face as she wrapped my head and it emitted a kind of warmth I found comforting. I couldn’t feel any pain…in fact, I felt bliss, intoxication. Whatever was in that drip felt real good and I drifted lazily again into sleep.

Familiar voices in the background nudged me back to consciousness. When I opened my eyes, I saw my mother, Maxwell and Omolara, my site assistant.

“Tony nwam o. God has brought you back!” She exclaimed with tears in her eyes.

“Nne…what are you doing here?” I asked groggily, trying to sit up. Maxwell was speedily by my side to help me sit up.

“I came to take care of my son. Thank God for his mercies.” She replied as she burst into praise songs in Igbo language.

“Hey champ.” Maxwell said with a smile of genuine joy and relief.

“How long have I been here?” I asked.

“Nine days. You’ve been out for the better part of it.” He said, giving me a wry smile.

Omolara edged closer with a smile on his face.

“Oga, good afternoon.”

“Omolara, how now?” I asked.

“I dey fine sir. Chief say make I come check on you. When e first come, doctor no let am see you because you dey unconscious.”

“He came here?!” I asked, rather surprised. Maxwell nodded and added, “Twice.”

“How our project?” I asked.

“Everything dey fine. Make I go give Chief report say you don wake. E wan come see you before them discharge you.” Omolara replied. “Thank God for your life oga. God like you well well!”

I smiled at him and nodded and he took his leave. He almost collided with the Dr. Ibrahim Usman at the door. They laughed and exchanged apologies, before Ibrahim let him pass and came in.

“Ah, there’s my favorite patient.” He said, beaming as he saw me sitting up. Ibrahim is a good friend of mine. We first met some years ago when a friend of mine was on admission at his private hospital. He is a wonderful doctor and we became friendly from the moment we met. We bonded more when I discovered we had mutual friends as we both attended the same University. His father was the consultant physician then but he had taken over the reigns of the efficiently-run hospital.

“Doc, how did I end up in your hospital?” I asked, glad to see him and gladder to know I was in good hands.

“The gods favour you my friend. They believe in my expert care.” He said and laughed. He examined the gauze around my head, looked inside my eyes with a flashlight and asked a few questions which he wrote down into his chart.

“You’re very lucky my friend. I saw pictures of your crumpled car on television. How you managed to escape with just a concussion and a few bruises is a miracle.” He said seriously.

My mother uttered a silent prayer of thanks, looking up to the ceiling. She held my hands.

“My car was mangled that bad?” I asked.

“Its a total write off.” Maxwell said.

“Luckily, the company that owns the truck that rammed into your car has been in touch. They want the hospital bills sent to them.” Ibrahim said, smiling.

“And they even offered to replace your car when Chief’s lawyers got in touch with them.” Maxwell said. “The wonders of being influential.” He shook his head with longing.

I sighed. Ibrahim made small conversation with me and later took his leave to continue his ward rounds after advising me to eat something solid and get some rest. Maxwell seemed to have a lot on his mind he wanted to get off but thankfully, he held back.

My mother had already sliced some apples which she insisted I eat, even though I didn’t feel like eating anything. I ate to oblige her and when I swallowed, I realised how hungry I was so I ate the lot and didn’t wait for her to slice the next batch of apples. I was in the middle of my third apple when there was a soft knock and the door opened.

It was Lola.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXIV)

January 5th, 2013.
11. 09am

So an otherwise perfect Christmas day meeting with the parents was almost ruined by the man who deemed it fit to throw in his hat in the ring with me but I didn’t let it make me respond spontaneously because if I did, it would most likely be me “Jet Li-ing” the shit out of him, his size notwithstanding. It was an insult to my person what he did that day but I guess when I remembered it was me and not him who would be taking Christy home, I decided there was no need to react.

I was still smouldering on the drive back to my place. It was a silent drive back home filled with Christy’s apologies which didn’t necessary make me feel better though the discovery that her dad was a bit of a mischievous fella amused me greatly. Ade had told me to expect more mischief from him. He was a wonderful father-in-law but given to bouts of extreme mischief on occasions. Was he trying to make a sport out of I and Kunle?

Kunle made one or two attempts to get Christy alone but I effectively imposed a blockade by not giving him a chance and Christy seemed rather pissed at him. He gave me a smile after several unsuccessful attempts to bridge my protective barrier that seemed to say “Ok, you win this”. So far, I seemed to be winning the war anyway. Clarisse, Candice and Chris seemed to be staunchly in support of my candidature for Christy’s affection, though Clarisse shared a common enthusiasm with her father for the “sport”. It didn’t stop her from flirting with me though but I assumed flirting came natural to her and it seemed evident when Christy had to assert some form of possessiveness over me.

All in all, it was not a bad outing but I knew I had to be on my toes and up my game if I wanted to win in this. Christy and I spent the remainder of the holidays together. For the few days she had to work, I was a constant presence dropping and picking her to and fro. I had feared that eventually, she would find me a bit suffocating but she seemed to glow with the attention I lavished. She laughed and smiled more, warming my heart and making me feel real confident. However, independent enquiries confirmed that Kunle was going to be in the country till April – an information that bothered me a bit but when I realized Christy’s work schedule was just as busy as mine was, I knew I had the advantage. It would take an extra-ordinary act of ingenuity to tilt the scales. Kunle kept calling and when he did, she would ask my permission to take his calls. I didn’t dissuade her as much I wanted to but she maintained a high level of loyalty that surprised me.

Tunde was practically rolling when I narrated the story to him.

“Finally, a challenge comes! Now, you’ll have to fight for what you been taking advantage of for so long.” He said still laughing.

“I never took advantage of Christy. I was just being my quintessential self.” I retorted haughtily.

“I hear. Perhaps, this new challenge will motivate you to do the needful?”

“Propose?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah. Not yet. We haven’t even dated for up to a year yet.” I said.

“Really? That’s your excuse?! You disappoint me man.” He said, shaking his head sadly.

“Its not really about how long we’ve dated…I just can’t explain it.” I said defensively.

“Then what are you counting for? I know you man. Christy is a different breed and you know it. She is perfect…maybe too perfect.” He paused. “Or is it that you feel you don’t deserve her?”

I went silent. The thought had crossed my mind severally in recent times but I did my best to never let it reach the surface. We deserve what we get in life, don’t we? I certainly deserve a good woman regardless of what anybody thinks.

“Ah…so the legendary Mickey Jay finally grows a conscience?” He laughed hard, slapping his thighs as if to modulate his laughter. Tunde had an uncanny ability to read me – I hated it but it proved useful from time to time.

“I’m not even going to talk about that!” I retorted.

“You’ve gone soft. I really have to say this but I think you’re in love this time.” He said teasingly after his laughter subsided.

“Well, if that’s how you see it.” I said, shrugging.

“Of course, that’s how I see it and you know I’m seldom wrong. No need to go all macho on this.” He looked up the ceiling in thankful supplication and said, “Lord! Thank you for touching the cold, cold heart of my friend.” I had to laugh.

“Bachelorhood is overrated bro. Trust me, I know. You’ve got a good girl, grow up and do things right before you lose her to somebody else.” He said more seriously.

“I won’t lose her to somebody else and certainly not to that twat of a basket baller!” I said ferociously without meaning to.

“You’re really in love!” Tunde exclaimed.

“I just don’t think proposing now is best. I can’t just do that because I have competition. It doesn’t feel right. I’ll take that step because I want to and not because I’m being pressured to.” I said, ignoring his exclamation and speaking more calmly and reflectively.

“You and these your rules. Affairs of the heart doesn’t come with a rule book. Go with the flow, go with your heart.” Tunde said sagely.

And I took him up on that. I was determined that 2013 was going to be different. After a private new year’s day celebration at my place, the year started slowly and I was at my desk by 2nd of January as was Christy. With the holidays gone, she went back to her apartment and for a while, I wondered how I had never felt the emptiness of my three bedroom apartment. There was no way I was going to be able to monitor her independently so I picked one of her colleagues, Joseph to be my informant and be on the look-out for an extremely tall dude and he agreed.

First reports came in on Friday; a big box of chocolates and love notes mysteriously appeared on her table. I didn’t bother to let her know I knew but she told me all about it where I spent the night at her place and we both enjoyed the chocolates together. Another surprise came when we were awoken on saturday morning by a loud knock. It was a group of four men in uniforms who explained they had been paid to remodel and re-furnish Christy’s apartment. They came with a large truck which was parked outside, full with brand new Italian sofas which they intended to replace Christy’s with. An argument ensued when Christy refused to let them but I intervened and told her to let them carry on.

“The sofas are nice and they’ve been paid for so no problem.” I said gently

“But don’t you know who its from?” She asked, shocked at my reasoning.

“Of course love, I do. Its from Kunle. His generosity, though unnecessary is most welcome…if you’re okay with it.”

“I’m not okay with it.” She said stubbornly.

“My love, you didn’t ask for it so it imposes no obligation on you. Except you think it does.” Holding her hands and looking into her eyes, I asked her gently.

“Does it?”

She looked away and came into my arms. “I guess it doesn’t.”

I kissed her forehead and held her close for a while as we watched the men take out her old furniture. A thought seemed to cross her head and she called out to one of the guys.

“What’s going to happening to my set?” She asked, almost alarmed.

“Err…we can take it anywhere you want.” One of the guys said.

“Who can we give these furnitures to?” She asked me and I smiled. There was a notepad and a pen on the table. I tore a page off and wrote down an address in Benin.

“Benin? Who’s address is this?” She asked after peering at the piece of paper and looking up to me, confused.

“Its my fathers house in Benin. Its empty and could do with some furniture.”

“But what if I need them back?” She asked.

“You won’t.” I replied mysteriously.

“I won’t?”

“You won’t.”

“I don’t understand. How do you mean?” She asked, more puzzled than ever.

I sighed. “I didn’t really want it to be like this you know. I wanted something more classy, more relaxed, more private.” I paused.

Her eyes widened in surprise and expectation. Her body tensed and her hands trembled. I was equally tensed as my heart beat rate doubled and I suddenly could hear the pounding in my ears.

“I was thinking if you would like to move in with me.” I whispered slowly.

The expression on her face was golden; the sparkle in her eyes would have made a diamond envious. Her smile was like the sun.

It told me all I needed to know.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

I am on twitter @saymalcolm

Turning Tables (III)

As the days went by, my resolve to find out if the flame that once burned bright for Lola had been totally extinguished waned as I became swamped with work. My benefactor had just arrived back in Nigeria and I had to give him a tour of the site to show him the progress we had made with construction after months of greasing the palms of government officials in order to get all permits approved in due time. He was pleased and expressed with pleasure that I was totally capable of handling the project without any supervision. He encouraged me not spare any cost to ensure that everything came out well. My heart almost burst with pride.

So immersed in work was I that I totally forgot about my conversation with Aunty Joy. I was leaving the house as early as 9am and getting back as late as 10pm almost everyday since the last one month. It was stressful but I enjoyed myself immensely and why not? I had a generous expense account with virtually unlimited funds to see the project through and estimation showed we were ahead of schedule. I was confident that the project would be completed in time.

However, I noticed that a certain number had taken to calling me late at night. For the past two weeks, the number called my phone at 10pm every night, regular like clock work. I never picked it up as I had recently developed the habit of not picking calls from unknown numbers. At various times, the caller ID was hidden; at others times, the number which had become very familiar because of its regularity would display. I continued to ignore the call and it stopped after two weeks. After two days of bliss, the calls continued again; this time, it came by 2am while I was asleep. I was so mad, I picked up the phone with every intention to hurl the vilest insults to whoever chose to call me by this ungodly hour.

“Who the fuck is this?!” I said into the phone with sleepy irritation. I perceived the shock from the other end of the line. There was a pause, then the caller spoke.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call by this odd hour but you’ve not been answering my calls.” All sleepiness disappeared from my eyes as I sat up quickly. My mouth went dry and my heartbeat rate increased in pace as the familiar voice cast me back to the last time I heard it.

“Who is this?” I asked weakly and rather unconvincingly. It was Lola and she knew I knew as well as I knew she knew I knew but she played along.

“Its Lola.” Her voice still sounded like…like…music. I tried to snap out of it and regain my confidence but failed woefully.

“How are you?” I said, my tone softening up considerably.

“I’m ok. And you?”

“I’m great.” I said. There was a long but uncomfortable pause before she continued.

“Joy told me she ran into you last month.”

“Oh yeah. She did.” I said. I suddenly felt angry at myself that her voice had softened me up so easily. Many times, I had played and replayed scenarios in my head of how I was going to give her a piece of my mind in the strongest terms possible for the treatment she gave me; I couldn’t recall a single one…

“Tony…I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for how I treated you four years ago.” I don’t know why but I was shocked.

“I know in my heart that you wanted the best for me but somehow, I don’t know what came over me…I know now that pushing you away is the greatest mistake I ever made in my life.” Her voice broke as she sobbed for a bit before she continued.

“Can you ever forgive me?” She pleaded.

I was totally overwhelmed because the Lola I knew back then, though sweet was as proud as a peacock. She could argue ferociously in the face of contradicting facts without ever backing down. A trait I found irritating then. Perhaps, life’s cruel experiences had taught her a good lesson.

“I forgave you a long time ago.” I said quietly.

Deep sigh. After a brief pause, I continued.

“And I’m deeply sorry for your loss. I never really heard until much recently.”

“Thank you so much.” She said.

“You’re a lot better now, I hope?” I asked.

“Yes. I am.” She replied after a little hesitation.

“Well, its good to hear from you. Have a good night.” I said, limiting the conversation from going any further. After I ended the call, I was up for another hour with my thoughts running riot about the past. She still sounded real nice and the old longing to see her again returned in a more ferocious manner.

Over the next couple of weeks, she called me constantly on a daily basis and it became clear she was trying to get back in my good graces. Of course, I never forgot the things she said four years ago when she broke up with me but some how, I felt like we were going down the path of reconciliation. She had suggested a couple of times that we meet but I always put her off claiming I was very busy – I really was. I wanted to see her, probably more than she wanted to see me but I was afraid of what could happen if I did. There was no doubt in my mind now that I never really got over her despite all my posturing but I had an advantage; I was dictating the pace in whatever this was turning out to be.

My friend Maxwell was heavily disappointed in me when I told him all that had been happening with Lola recently. He was particularly hard hit four years ago when he learned what Lola had done to me and suggested we gate-crash her wedding and upset her apple cart but I would have none of it. He was particularly furious with what he called “her ploy to get her filthy claws on my wealth” and called her obscene names; “fair-weather bitch”, “gold digger”. After all his entreaties to me not to have anything to do with her failed, he sternly warned me that he was free of any obligation to be nice to her because he never would. I laughed and told him I knew what I was doing.

I finally decided it was time we met after almost a month of phone conversations. I called her for the first time and asked if she would be interested in seeing the new Bond movie with me and she squealed in excitement that she would. I told her I would pick her up from Aunty Joy’s later that evening. It was a friday and I made it a point of duty to round up early at the site and head home to freshen up for my date.

Much to my surprise, I was excited. I felt like a kid who was going shopping to pick up his favorite toy. I made sure I looked my best even though I was casually dressed. Just as I was driving out of my compound, I called her to let her know I was on my way and she replied excitedly that she was ready and waiting. The drive from where I stayed in Gbagada to Surulere was ordinarily a short one but it was a friday and friday traffics are legendary but luckily, I was going against the traffic. I got stuck in a few places but just as I left the bridge connecting me to Ikorodu Road, the road was free so I picked up speed and had just overtaken a slow “danfo” in front of me when a rickety truck sped out of the intersection without warning. There was a squeal of tires as I honked the horn of my car and simultaneously stepped on my brake in panic. The truck made no attempt to slow down and the next thing I felt was the jolt of the impact as the truck smashed into the passenger side of my car! Shards of broken glass flew across my face. The air was rent with the crushing and crumpling sounds of synthetic fiber against metal. The seat belt I wore withstood the impact and held me firmly in place but my head struck the window on the rebound and I felt the window or my skull crack from the force. I was dimly aware as the truck slammed my car against the pavement, deploying the air bags which hit my face with such force that the dancing darkness before my eyes gradually spread over my consciousness like a thick blanket.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXIII)

You’re probably wondering why I got all worked up about this Kunle. Well, I will tell you. In my short time on earth, I’ve come to realize that for every woman, there’s always this one man that knows how to push your buttons in such a way that you kind of become jelly or potty in their hands. The same goes for us guys. It really doesn’t matter if the person is single, dating or married; they always have that weakening and knee-buckling effect on you because they always seem to say or do the right thing all the time. I’m convinced the most perfect marriages are made of these two persons who possess such mutual feelings.

I’m sure a couple of persons can relate to this. Most of us always have that one person that we crushed on in our formative stages in life and its either we had a brief but blissful taste of the pie and wish we could have more or we admired and constantly perceived its aroma from a distance, having never had the guts to go all out for it. Sometimes, its never really about the guts to go all out for it; Its about the need be in love with and cling to an idea, a symbol of perfection which is utopian in real life.

Before I came to be, there was Kunle. Kunle was that Utopian symbol of perfection. How did I get to know? I saw the glow in Christy’s eyes when she spoke about him. It was on one of those weekend nights we shared together. She suddenly wanted to know about my past; something I was always vague and cagey about for obvious reasons. That night, I rehearsed a mental selection of the best of affairs. On the rebound, she unfolded like a blossoming flower and spilled all.

Kunle’s father was a civil engineer like her father and a very dear friend of the family. As a result, Kunle and Christy practically grew up together as playmates till their late teens when Kunle and his family relocated to the United States. By then, young Kunle who was the only child of his parents had grown into a dashing young man that she was already infatuated with though he seemed never to notice…until the news came that they were about to relocate. Kunle, 17 then, had come to her house in the dead of night, scaled the then uncompleted fence and hurled stones at her window till she woke up and came down to meet him. There, he professed his undying love for her which came as a pleasant shock. His house was a couple of streets away from hers and they spent the rest of the night outside, in each others arms promising heaven and earth to each other: you know how it is with youthful love, uninhibited in terms of the outflow of feelings. Well, he finally traveled and she moved on until he returned a couple of years later. This time, there was no holding back.

I saw the glow in her eyes as she dug into pleasant memories of the past. I had wondered if she glowed the same way when she thought about me. Bouts of jealousy and depression that I couldn’t mask properly set in and I think she noticed, because she stopped and never spoke of Kunle again. I had to probe persistently to discover that he played professional basketball for one of the smaller clubs in the NBA. That gave me a measure of security. He would get lost in the sea of the best groupies America had to offer. How wrong I was!

I saw how disconcerted she was after seeing him even though she tried unsuccessfully to hide it. She introduced me to her father who was warm and friendly.

“How are you my boy?” He said shaking my hand and giving me a pat on the back.

“I’m great sir. You have a beautiful home and a wonderful family.”

“Hmm. Thank you.” To Christy, he said, “So you finally bring a man home?” He winked mischievously.

“Dad!” She yelled, a bit embarrassed.

“Its ok…its ok…I’ll say no more. You’re welcome son. Please, feel at home.”

I saw a frown on Kunle’s face but it went as quick as it came. I suppressed a chuckle.

Christy finally went to Kunle and gave him a hug. They spoke in hushed tones so I cast my glance elsewhere in order not to intrude. Mr Ademola-Brown watched the exchange between Kunle and Christy with interest. He had the look of a man who was privy to something yet to be revealed. His face spread into a satisfied smile before he headed to the direction of the big double door which he opened and disappeared into.

As the door shut, I heard voices and I looked up to see Chris came down with Clarisse and for a moment, the world stood still. She had on blue shorts and a black tank top. Her skin shone like polished gold under the morning sun and contrasted nicely with the black she wore. Her huge and pointy breasts moved from side to side in unison as she came down the stairs, one at a time while completely engrossed in her blackberry device. She stopped for a second and looked down. Our eyes met and she smiled.

Wow! I thought. There are no words to describe that smile so I smiled back, weakly.

“Michael, I want you to meet Kunle.” Christy’s voice jolted me back to reality. Kunle stood beside her, holding her hand. I noted this with interest.

“So this is Michael?” Clarisse said cutting in. She stood next to me now looking into my eyes. I mumbled an inaudible “hi” to her and she nodded in acknowledgment. She was such a beauty specimen and her body chemistry vibrated “I’m more interesting than my sister!” Obviously, this was the cause of the sibling rivalry, I surmised.
She gave me a hug that lasted longer than I had expected and I enjoyed every moment of it, inhaling her head-swirling scent.

“Merry Christmas sis.” Clarisse said as she left me to hug Christy. So, I faced the intimidating height of Kunle. He had finally let go of Christy. It felt a little embarrassing looking up to him but what could I do? As we shook hands, I noticed he purposely wanted me to know he had a strong grip by squeezing my hand a little harder than normal. I kept my expression bland and made no attempt to assert myself. It was too early to for that. In fact, I decided to be as friendly.

“Its nice to finally meet you. Heard a lot about you.” I said, smiling expansively.

“Cool. Good things, I hope. Haven’t heard nothing about you though but I’m sure we can remedy that.” He said with a well-blended American accent, and a confident smirk on his face.

I shrugged.

Strike one!

But I totally ignored the jibe. I was more concerned with Christy who seemed to be an explosive mix of emotions.

“You okay, love?” I asked gently, drawing her close and holding her face in my hands. I gave her an encouraging smile and she smiled back. Kunle and Clarrise kicked off a conversation and strolled to the other side of the large sitting room.

“I just have a little headache.” She said, her voice quivering and betraying her emotions.

“You hungry?” I asked, realizing we hadn’t had anything so far. She nodded, smiling again.

“Just sit down. Let me join my mom in the kitchen, ok?”

“Sure.” I sat down and focused on the screen. I could hear the dining table being set and shortly afterwards, we were all invited over. Candice and Ade hurried down to join us at the massive table with the glow of mischief fresh on their faces. She introduced us both as we shook hands and hit it off immediately. Ade was lanky and light skinned in contrast to Candice’s suppleness but with a totally agreeable character.

Ademola-Brown said the prayers after all nine of us were seated in front of a feast fit for kings and the feasting began. Healthy table talk and jokes flowed freely from the patriach who seemed very happy and in good spirits as bottles of red wine and a smorgasbord of soul food was passed round. Everyone laughed heartily when I threw in a couple of jokes, except for Kunle who seemed to be smoldering. After a lovely meal, everybody took turns to say what they were grateful for; something I found rather amusing. Ademola-Brown first, his wife next, Chris who sat closest to them and then Kunle. In his heavily accented voice, he said;

“It definitely feels good to be back in Nigeria after all this time to spend the Christmas holiday with a family I consider my family.” Applause.

“We’ve been close for as long as I can remember and my family’s relocation to the States didn’t change none of that…oh yeah, it did. It made the bond of friendship stronger. I’m thankful for that.” Another applause.

“I’m particularly thankful for the love of my life, Christy…” Dead silence.

“She was my high school sweetheart, still is. I remember she once told me that if I ever came back home to stay, she would take me seriously. Well, I’m here now…for you…”

Strike two!

I wiped my lips with the serviette and leaned back on the chair, rather flustered while everyone stared at Christy first and then at me. She sat still in shock, shaking. Clarisse clapped out gleefully in amusement.

“Here we go. That’s the spirit!” She said.

“Be quiet Clarisse!” Her mom chided.

“I’m sorry, I need some fresh air.” Christy said and rose from her chair.

“Chrissy?” Kunle called as he made to go after her.

“Stay right where you are!” She said curtly and went outside. Mom and Candice went after her.

Kunle sat down with a content smile on his face. I didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed; I was just numb. Ade looked nervous but couldn’t help but suppress a wry smile. He excused himself immediately. Chris seemed disgusted with the whole show but just sat there deflated. Clarrise became engrossed once more in her mobile device and still managed to make small talk as if nothing happened. Deola began clearing the dishes but the expression on Mr Ademola-Brown’s face revealed he knew this was going to happen. He kept looking excitedly at both Kunle and I. His mischievous smile said it all – may the best man win!

So it is war then!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm

Turning Tables (II)

I was at Shoprite in Surulere, queuing to buy bread when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned, I was shocked to see Aunty Joy.

“Aunty Joy! My God!!” I exclaimed. She was all smiles. I stepped out of the queue momentarily and got a bear hug.

“So you never still drop this “Aunty Joy” habit?” She said feigning a frown.”If people hear an old man like you calling me Aunty Joy, how can I claim to be young?”

I laughed heartily and hugged her again. We had always been close and though she was just about seven years older, I got a kick out of calling her Aunty Joy.

“Tony! Na your eye be this?!” She asked, surveying me with joy in her eyes.

“Na my eye o…and the rest of me.” I said chuckling.

She laughed. “You’re looking really well. I’m so happy.”

“Na God o! Na God. How are you doing? It appears time has had no effect on you whatsoever. You’re still looking very chic.” She hit me playfully and rearranged her hair unconsciously.

“This your sweet mouth. You haven’t lost it one bit!” She laughed.

“But you know I don’t flatter. You’ve really lost weight. I wouldn’t have recognized you if you hadn’t tapped me.” I said earnestly. She really had lost a lot of weight, unlike the homely and cuddly teddy bear I knew years ago and she looked good. A lot fresher than I remember.

“So its noticeable?” She asked brightening considerably. “God knows I’ve been working hard at it so that all these younger girls won’t turn Bode’s head.” She winked and we both laughed.

“How is Bode?” I asked.

“He’s fine o. He’s now in Lagos o. They finally transferred him from Ibadan two years ago. Hmmm.” She said with relief. Her husband, Bode worked with an engineering firm and got transferred to Ibadan for a project that took over three years to complete. It took its toll on her but she had managed to keep the home front here in Lagos as she worked here. She had resisted vehemently all attempts to make her move to Ibadan. “What will I be doing there? I can’t leave my Lagos o!” she had said.

“And Seun? How’s the young lad doing?”
“They are good o.” She beamed. When my expression changed to one of surprise, she smiled jubilantly.

“Seun has a sister now o. Funke is two now.” She said with pride. Seun, her first child would be roughly seven years of age. As at four years ago, she was still hoping for a second child.

“That’s wonderful! God is great!!” I exclaimed, genuinely thrilled. She was such a wonderful wife and mother.

“Yes o! He…” The person behind me on the queue indicated to me that it was my turn to make my purchase. I excused myself and went on to buy four loaves of bread. I dropped two of the loaves inside her trolley waving away her protests.

“Let’s find somewhere to sit down and catch up.” I said, taking over her shopping trolley. She nodded. We found a free seat close to the food store. I ordered chicken and chips I knew she loved so much. She protested saying I was trying to ruin all her hard work in trying to lose weight but she ate as we caught up on lost time. I carefully avoided any topic that would lead to Lola while silently wishing she would bring something up.

My patience was rewarded after twenty minutes.

“So how are you? I noticed you are still not married.” She said in a more subdued tone in contrast to the jokes we threw at each other.

“I’ve been very busy.” I said playing with my can of Fanta.

She sighed before she continued. “I didn’t have the nerve to call you after I heard what happened. After what Lola did to you.”

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Lola.

“Many times, I tried to call but I was afraid of how you would take it. I was thinking you’d hate us all.”

“Why would I hate you? You never wronged me in any way.” I said, shrugging. I could say this confidently now because she didn’t call. If she had, only God knows how I would have reacted.

“And not a day goes by that Lola doesn’t regret her actions…” She paused.

I looked up in surprise. “She regrets her actions? She seemed pretty convinced at the time.” I said bitterly.

Joy regarded me for a while. “You’re still hurting. Is that why you’re still unmarried?”

I managed a laugh. “Of course not. I told you how busy I’ve been.”

She kept silent again. I knew she wasn’t buying my busy story. She toyed with a piece of chip dipped in ketchup and seemed deep in thought. She wanted to say something but she kept holding herself back. For some strange reason, my heart beat rate increased; I was ashamed of myself.

“Lola is a widow now.” She said somberly.

I was expecting to hear so many things; that she left her husband, that the planned wedding didn’t work out, that she was unhappy…anything, but this.

“What?! How?!” I blurted out before I could help myself.

She sighed and took a sip out of the canned coke on the table next to her plate. She seemed to be lost at watching a child throwing a hell of a tantrum with his mother trying desperately to calm him down. His wild cries echoed around the big hall where we sat, drowning the soft sounds of music from hidden but surrounding speakers. Everybody’s attention seemed focused on the boy. He couldn’t have been more than seven but he had a very nasty temper. The burger and Ribena his mother had bought him were on floor, wasted.

Spoilt kids, I thought.

“Her husband died not up to six months after their wedding. A mysterious illness. He just started complaining of a headache and two days later, he was gone.” She said suddenly jolting me back to our discussion.

I’m not a bad person but a part of me celebrated some what. Celebrated because shortly after Lola broke my heart, she got something worse in return. Payback, the evil thought said but I checked myself and tried to imagine what she had gone through. The jubilant feeling of retribution was immediately replaced with sympathy.

“That’s terrible! I never heard.” I said with genuine remorse; more for my evil thoughts than for Lola’s loss. A part of me kept saying she deserved it and my conscience pricked right back.

“She was particular that you shouldn’t hear about it. She felt…she felt God was getting back at her for what she did to you.” Joy said sadly.

She got that right, I said to myself. My conscience kicked at me again.

“Where is she now?” I asked after sometime. I didn’t know what else to say.

“She’s back with me. Had to observe her for almost a year to make sure she didn’t commit suicide…besides, there were other issues. I wanted to call you but she wouldn’t hear of it.” She said apologetically.

“I understand.” I said. “I’m just surprised I didn’t hear anything at all. And I ran into her friend Tope several times and she never told me anything…you know Tope?” She nodded.

Actually, I had run into Tope more than several times. We had a couple of flings and eventually lost steam and stopped seeing each other by mutual consent.

Hmm. I didn’t know what to do with this news. My more humane side took over and I suddenly wondered about seeing her again.

“Is she…?” I asked rather embarrassed but Joy read my mind.

“Seeing anybody? No.” She said completing my question and furnishing an answer. I pondered on this. I thought I was done caring but I couldn’t help thinking if seeing her one last time would let me know if I had really moved on.

I had to find out.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXII)

December 25th, 2012.
08: 42pm

Christmas…I love Christmas. Its a season of joy to the world – so says the song. The tense atmosphere of the hustle, bustle and general madness of Lagos gives way to a palpable mist of joy. With the return of the harmattan, the nostalgia of joyful Christmases past came back with vivid clarity. I had originally planned with some of my buddies earlier in the year to make a grand appearance in Calabar for the street carnival but I had to shelve that.

I had wanted Christy to accompany me but she had to work on Christmas eve and besides, she had other plans of her own so I had to readjust my plans. My Christmas was usually spent outside Lagos. It was going to be the first time in a long while that I was going to spend the holiday period in Lagos without traveling. And why not? Christy dropped a most unexpected surprise; I was going to meet the parents on Christmas day!

She’d been warming up the topic for a while now but fortunately, our tight schedules prevented anything from happening and I had always managed to skillfully avoid the topic every time she brought it up. As Christmas drew closer, I had moments of panic attack and melancholy – I don’t know why but I was excited but terrified at the same time. It felt a lot like submitting willingly to some kind of imaginary shackle made of diamonds. I encouraged myself by asking what was the worst that could happen and really, what was the worst that could happen?

Well, Christmas finally came. After the early morning church service, I and Christy drove all the way to Ajah where her family house was. As we made the long trip, she updated me on her family. She was the eldest with two younger sisters, Clarisse and Candice; and one brother, Christopher. Weird names, I thought. Clarisse just got back from the UK where she had just recently completed her LLM in Law. Candice had an interior decorating outfit. She had only gotten married earlier in the year. Christopher was a final year Engineering student in Unilag and an aspiring rapper. Her dad, Mr Ademola-Brown was an engineer who had his engineering firm. Her mom was a civil servant with the Ministry of Education.

Of course, she had told me this before but I never thought we would come this far. She was yet to meet my dad who is my only surviving parent but apparently, after this, it would be the next item on the agenda. From what I knew, there was a little sibling rivalry between her and Clarisse; they never really got along much. I’d seen pictures of Clarisse and boy, she’s one hot, pretty, young thing! I couldn’t wait to see her and I teased Christy about this. A thing she hated much.

We finally got the house of the Ademola-Browns. It was an impressive duplex with a very spacious compound well beautified with colourful flower hedges. A black Benz S400 stood majestically on the drive way. There were several other cars parked in a makeshift garage on the right side of the fence. I could make out a Benz G-Class, a Toyota Rav4, a Range Rover Sport and a Volkswagen Gulf 5. I smelled old money.

“Christiana my love!” A pretty, well-kept middle aged woman clad in flowered native screamed as we alighted from the car.

“Mom!” Christy screamed and ran into her mother’s waiting arms. They hugged and talked about how they had missed each other. I just stood aside and watched amused. A young handsome dude dressed in sleeveless t-shirt and baggy shorts stepped out of the house and ran to join in the hugs. I guessed he was Christopher. He looked bigger than in the pictures I had seen; way bigger than his age of 22.

“Mom, this is Micheal.” Christy said shyly drawing me close after all the affection momentarily dissipated.

“Good afternoon madame.” I said, mustering my confidence and flashing my most smashing smile while I extended my hand.

She took my hand while she surveyed me critically from top to bottom in a way I kind of found embarrassing. Christopher laughed at my obvious discomfort.

“How are you my son?” She finally asked with a smile that said “This one will do”.

“I’m great madam…” I said but she interrupted me.

“Call me mom.” She said with finality as she gave me a bear hug. I was a lot taller so it must have been a comical sight for her crushing me with a hug because Christopher laughed again and Christy hit him on the arm playfully.

“Err…okay…mom.” I said, momentarily caught off guard. After she released me, I fisted Christopher’s extended knuckle and he winked at me mischievously.

“I’m Chris.” He said.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Let’s go inside. Everybody is waiting.” Mrs Ademola-Brown said gaily. She held my hand and half dragged me from the drive way. I gave Christy a puzzled look and she smiled and whispered something I couldn’t catch. As we got to the door, another beautiful lady that bore a striking resemblance to Christy but was a plumper version came out and she uttered an excited scream that Christy echoed. They hugged each other tightly and laughed like kids. I was enthralled much by this familial display of affection. This was definitely Candice.

“When you did get in?!” Christy asked excitedly after the screams.

“Ade and I came in this morning.” She answered, hugging Christy tightly again.

“You still look fabulous! How do you do it?!” She said, admiring Christy.

“I dunno.” Christy said laughing. She held my hand and brought me closer to her. “This is Micheal.”

Mrs Ademola-Brown went inside ahead of us. “Let me see what’s going on in the kitchen.” She said and left us.

“My, my, my!” Candice said, hugging me lightly. “So we finally meet.” We had spoken a couple of times on the phone. She was based in Abuja with her husband.

“Yes o. We finally do. The pictures I saw of you don’t do you justice. You’re much prettier in person.” I said smiling.

“Awww…you’re so sweet!” She said, rolling her eyes. “And you’re quite a hunk too. No wonder my sister is gaga over you!” She said winking at Christy.

“Candy!” Christy chided.

“What? You don’t think he knows?” She said winking at me. I laughed as they both led me into an expansive and exquisitely furnished sitting room. This first thing I saw was one of the biggest HD sets I’ve ever seen in my life. By the corners of the sitting room stood two massive Christmas trees with all its shining and colourful decorations. I was really, really impressed. I felt the respect in my heart grow for Christy. Her awesomeness amplified before my eyes by 200 percent. She was a child of affluence but you would never ever know because she was so simple…so independent. I fell in love all over again…

“Where’s dad?” I heard Christy ask.

“He’s in the other living room with a guest.” Candice replied. “Let me get Ade. He’s upstairs.” With that, she ran up the curved stairs.

“Where’s Clarisse?” Christy asked Christopher who was watching a musical video on the humongous screen.

“She’s in her room, I think.” He said. “I’ll go get her.” And he dashed up the stairs.

“Sister, good afternoon. Merry Christmas.” A voice said behind us. I swirled round and saw a young girl I presumed was the help.

“Deola!!!” Christy exclaimed joyfully hugging her tightly.

“How are you?” Christy asked, holding her again.

“I’m fine sister. Where are your bags?” She asked, puzzled.

“I’m not staying today.” Christy whispered. “I have a class tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Deola said, not masking her disappointment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here for the new year. Please, get me a glass of water.” She turned to me and asked if wanted anything and I declined.

“Let’s sit down baby.” She said, leading me to the nearest chair where we sat.

“So…what do you think?” She asked excitedly looking at me expectantly.

“What do I think? I think you’ve got the most wonderful family. I’m still a bit overwhelmed.”

She beamed happily. “My mom loves you.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m a ladies man.” I said smiling mischievously. She laughed happily.

“And that screen?” I said pointing to HD screen. “I’m going to buy it no matter how much it costs…”

A deep throated voice boomed from the other sitting room, interrupting me.

“Where is my run away baby?” Mr Ademola-Brown strolled majestically towards us. He couldn’t have been less than 5’11 and he was beefy in a healthy way. His full hair was snow white and so was his beard, giving him a Wole Soyinka-ish look. He was a handsome man and had an intimidating presence. His laughter filled the room.

“Daddy!” Christy jumped up and ran into his arms.

A very tall young guy suddenly and quietly materialized from the other sitting room. Now, 6 feet is like the most perfect height ever and I have never once felt insufficient with it but this guy had to be like 6’3 and he was huge. He just rested by the wall and watched with a sure…certain smile on his lips. That kind of smile that spreads across your face unconsciously when you look at a woman you’ll love to have…again. I suddenly felt irritated because in this dude, I saw myself.

Father and daughter kept hugging and talking until I heard Christy gasp.

“Kunle!” She said, totally shocked.

Kunle? Kunle!! Oh shit, not that Kunle!!!

(To be continued….)

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm

Turning Tables (I)

“Lola, you can’t be serious?!” I said, feeling her hurtful words stab the very heart that beat for her.

She looked at me with glittering eyes that did not mask her sudden disgust for me. It suddenly felt like I was looking at and talking to a complete stranger.

“You can’t be serious.” I continued, my shaky voice betraying my sorrow. “After everything we’ve been through together?!” In anguish, I held my head.

“Look, let’s not make a scene here, ok? Just leave.” She said without an iota of feeling.

“Lola, please just give this a thought. Are you going to throw away everything we had just like that?” I pleaded desperately, totally unaware of when my knees touched the ground.

She looked down at me in contempt from her towering position.

“Stop disgracing yourself and get a life!!” She said contemptuously.

“Lola, but I love you. How can you do this to me?” I said with tears in my eyes.

She gave an evil laughter. It was more like a cackle. It shocked the life out of me.

“Just look at you! You are as broke as a church rat and you want to love. Where do you think you are?” She asked, her words hitting me hard.

“But Lola…” I said shocked but she cut me off.

“You think I’ll just waste my life waiting for you? Your mates are out there doing big things, you are here fooling yourself! For how long did you think I was going to put up with your bull shit?!”

I couldn’t believe my ears! Her words burned deep into my soul. This same woman I gave 40% of my meager salary every month?!

“Lola!” I gasped.

“Please don’t call my name again. You are a disgrace. Its a wonder I even put up with you this long!” She said with every atom of seriousness.

“But…but you said you loved me…” I stammered hopelessly.

She laughed again. Dry and unrecognizable. I remembered when the sound of her laughter used to fill my life with joy. I felt the exact opposite now.

“Love indeed.” She said, genuinely amused. “Please start going, my fiance is coming over soon…”

“Your what?!”

“…and he won’t be happy to see a pauper at his doorstep.” She said, barely noticing my interruption. She made sure she waved her left hand in my face so that I saw the flash of the encrusted diamond ring on her finger.

“His…his…doorstep?!” I stammered stupidly. “But…but…this is your uncle’s house?!”

She sighed in exasperation. “You’re pathetic!” She said venomously and with that, she slammed the door to my face. I remained on my knees stunned, thinking it was all a bad dream but the pain on kneeling on the floor began to bite at my knees so I had no trouble distinguishing a nightmare from reality.

Slowly, I stood up and dusted my black trousers. I still couldn’t believe the exchange we just had. Lola? My Lola?! I wiped my eyes quickly as the famous song by the legend Bob Marley rang in my head, “No Woman No Cry”. I started my slow and painful journey towards the gate that led outside the compound. The gate man stepped aside in pity having partially witnessed the exchange.

I’d had my doubts when she first told me her uncle just got back from the States and told her to come stay with him. Her aunt, ‘Aunty Joy’ as I fondly called her who lived in Surulere suddenly was not good enough and didn’t seem to know who this ‘Uncle Phillip’ was but Lola claimed he was from her mother’s side. The house was a tastefully furnished 3 bedroom flat in a high rise estate at Ikoyi. I marveled at the opulence whenever I came to visit on weekends. I had waited in vain hoping to meet this uncle of hers but apparently, I was on a ‘long thing’! She had played the game to perfection.

I turned and looked back one last time. I saw two children looking at me from the balcony directly above her apartment. They couldn’t be more than 10 and 12 years of age respectively. They made no attempt to disguise the fact that they were laughing at me; a grown man of 28 who had just got his heart shattered in pieces. I smiled through my pain. They obviously didn’t know what it felt like, what I was going through. When I considered what had just happened, I felt the warm tears as they poured from my eyes. I saw a movement from Lola’s window. She was checking to see if I was gone. I shook my head and walked outside the compound.

This was four years ago.

I never saw Lola again as I swore never to revisit my painful past. Anything I had that reminded me of her, I burnt. It wasn’t easy getting over her after having her as my one and only for five years but I managed. I had been in several relationships since then but it never really held the thrill, the fulfillment that I once felt when I was deeply and foolishly in love.

I couldn’t forget Lola because we had so many beautiful memories together. Each time I heard a couple of songs on the radio, it was like being teleported to the past where everything was right with the world. Every song had a memory well preserved in a box that seemed to open each time I heard it. Melancholy was the hangover after the song played out. I sometimes wished there was a way to blot out that part of my memory that still held Lola so tight but alas, it was a cross I had to bear. I learned to live with the pain.

I was doing a lot better now. I’d changed jobs and had a private business of my own which I ran on the side. I had a rare opportunity two years ago to partner with the father of a client who invested heavily in real estate and needed a young and capable hand to steer his affairs. He had bought a lot of properties on the Island and we were in the process of building high rise apartment buildings in Lekki, Ikoyi and Ajah and I was in charge. I also had an interior designing company so I was making cheddar right, left and center. I was very comfortable. I had two cars and a house on the Mainland. I never really was the extravagant type so I lived a modest life but there was nothing I wanted that I couldn’t get. Except the right woman.

Time, however is not without the cruelest sense of humor.

(To be continued…)

Malcolm O. Ifi is on twitter @saymalcolm

The Scourge Of Corruption As Seen Through The Eyes Of The Ordinary Nigerian (I)

It was a sunny day. The sun was out in all its glory. I was feeling pretty good with myself knowing I was about to attend the final interview in a series of interviews just to get a job in a multinational company. In fact, I was in a celebrating mood feeling cocksure that I was going to get the job. Out of the 35000 applicants, we were streamlined to 100 by the aptitude test. After “jacking” my GMAT text from cover to cover and numerous current affairs pamphlets, I scaled from interview one to two and now, this was the final interview before I was going to get my appointment letter. It was just five of us applicants left.

My interviewer at the second interview was so impressed with my qualifications and my obvious intelligence that she assured me that I was going to get the job. Since that time, I’ve practically been on cloud nine. And why not? I’ve been combing the streets of Lagos for the past two years searching for a job; an ardous task in this harsh economic climate, so you can imagine my elation.

I strolled into the air-conditioned office with utmost confidence, handling my treasured file which contained my life’s achievements; my academic qualifications. I was the last of the five to get on the “hot seat”. I saw Miss Bimpe, the lady who assured me I was getting the job and I flashed her my most charming smile. She was a bit uptight about returning it today but I didn’t blame her. “Oga kpatakpata” was there with three other elderly officers I didn’t recognize so I took the seat offered me.

“Good afternoon sirs and madam.” I greeted cheerfully. Oga nodded curtly as the others stared at me vacantly, oblivious of my courtesy. I didn’t mind; I was going to get the job.

“Your documents please.” Oga said without a smile.

I silently handed them over. He went through the several impressive documents slowly and deliberately, nodding appreciatively, occasionally at my numerous achievements. I felt my heart beat faster in anticipation.

“Impressive.” He said, suddenly. I shifted expectantly on my seat.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to try again with us next time as we’ve already filled up our employment quota for this exercise.” He said emotionlessly handing back my file to me.

I felt like the weight of the world dropped on my head and a cold bucket of water splashed on me that I froze in shock. I couldn’t move!

“Have your file please.” He continued, his face bare of expression still handing my folder to me after what seemed like eternity had passed.

“But…but…” I stammered, desperately trying to respond but no coherent words came out of my lips. I stared desperately at Miss Bimpe but her head was down. The three other persons seemed to gauge my reaction with unfriendly interest.

“Take it.” Oga said curtly again. I collected my documents, stood unsteadily feeling rather dizzy with disappointment and walked dejectedly to the door. As I left the very cold…cold office, I felt hot tears well up my eyes which I struggled to hold back. I unconsciously sat at the waiting area outside the office staring vacantly with a mind totally blank with grief. The waiting area seemed to spin before my eyes. I was so confident that my breakthrough had finally arrived. I stared at my shoes; dusty, weather beaten, uneven from all the trekking on the streets of Lagos. Would I be able to bounce back from the depression that was bound to set in? I was this close! Now, I had to start afresh with the same frustrating process of job searching.

After a space of time of which I was totally unaware of people walking by and staring at my miserable disposition, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder and I looked up, rather startled. It was Miss Bimpe.

“I’m so sorry about what happened back there.” She said with genuine sympathy.

I had nothing to say so I kept mute and continued to stare vacantly.

“The director received a call this morning from one politician asking him to place his people for the advertised vacancy.” She whispered. I looked at her in shock and she shrugged helplessly and walked away.

I couldn’t hold the tears no more. They strolled from my eyes down to my lips. The saltiness seemed to wake me up vocally.

“Why?” I cried. “Why is Nigeria like this?”
I stood up finally, ensuring that my most prized treasure was complete and intact and walked out into the blazing sun. The sudden anger that gripped me after my tears dried up could best be described as volcanic.

I wanted to lay my hand on that politician who had just deprived me of what I deserved, what I had worked so hard for and just slowly and methodically choke the life out of him for making my life hell.

I wanted to tell him, while I choked him to death about how I’ve suffered because his kind refused to do what is right.

I wanted to tell him the insults I’ve received because people think I’m lazy when I’m not.

I wanted him to feel the pain that comes with despair when a system you depend on to enable you, disarms and demoralizes you.

I wanted him to remember every single naira, dollar, pound sterling and euro he had ever stolen in his life that were carefully lodged in his bedroom, local banks and accounts all over the world; how as he took his final breaths, as he died under my clamp-like grip, feel the despair that he would never get to spend a worthless kobo ever again.

I wanted him for realize the futility of his life’s effort – just as I felt right now.

I wanted him to know that his wife was going to assemble of an entourage of younger and more handsome men with his ill-acquired wealth to service her sexual needs when he was gone.

I wanted him to know that his numerous concubines who were forced into prostitution because of the deteriorating economic situation would go on and make something beautiful out of their lives.

I wanted him to know that his children were all going to end up as junkies, alcoholics and sex-slaves for the deprivation he caused many so that they may live in abundance.

I felt better after those vile thoughts crossed my mind. I thought about the millions of youths like me on the streets in Nigeria; unemployed graduates burning with energy to contribute their own quota to nation building but held back by the capricious living of these few enemies of progress who have crippled the economy of this nation with mindboggling corruption and seek to perpetuate themselves till a dried out husk is all that is left of this country.

Imagine if we all united; an army of revolutionaries with one common purpose, with one common goal – unseating these parasites that have bled us dry and continue to foist themselves upon us and bringing them to justice for their crimes against humanity.

That time draws close.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm

Celebrating Love And Friendship

Love and friendship: a very thin line separates them. In fact, I think they can be used interchangeably because friendship is love and love is friendship. Love can never exist without friendship and similarly, friendship can never exist without love.

I once read that there are no permanent friendships, only permanent interests and I was of that train of thought simply because friendship is all about benefits really. There’s the benefactor and the beneficiary but its not about who gives and who receives. Its about that urge to give without needing to receive back. If its reciprocal, its certainly welcome but its not the focal point – like we are taking scores. It comes from down within and its accompanied with so much joy.

This leads me to a story; a story about love and friendship that developed from the social media; Twitter to be precise. I am a budding writer with a lot of potential. I like to think so and fortunately, so many others do too. I was born with an over-active mind that always created and painted scenarios in my minds eye. My creativity engulfs me mostly in my private moments which I enjoy immensely but that doesn’t make me socially awkward. I enjoy good company because it inspires me.

I’ve been often mistaken to be a shy guy with the opposite sex. Its not like I’m incapacitated verbally or anything. Trust me, I talk as good as I write; maybe even better but I get so engrossed with the feminine sexuality that sometimes, I’m at loss for words. I love women; the idea of the opposite sex tickles and excites me. It makes me methodical and reveals my artistic inclination so I devote a near worship of those things that make them so different from me.

However, besides the special physical attributes of women, It can’t be all about the package. Interests based solely on physical characteristics are fleeting at best. Men who seek for something deeper and much more meaningful move on after while. Being a man, I’m ingrained with the basic psychological make up of most men. I appreciate beauty and the adore the feminine sexuality. If you ever had to wonder how awesome God is, a woman’s body can tell you that. Its something more wonderful than refining a diamond out of a rock. However, a woman has got to add value to herself because with the passage of time, the rainbow colour of youth and beauty fades, leaving behind a shallow or insightful personality within its mortal shell.

I’m rambling. Let me get to the point. How did we meet? She is a voracious reader and I enjoy doling it out as it comes. We got chatting after she felt the need to engage me more directly and in the discussions that followed, we learned a lot about each other. Our conversations were mature and sometimes, straight up philosophical but she totally knocked my socks off when I found out how young she was. She’s very young. When she told me how old she was, I had to go through our old conversations to try to match them with her age. I couldn’t!

From then on, I was so sure that I wanted to meet her. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I felt I was being “punk’d”. She probably was lying about her age. Women do that a lot, I rationalized. Well, an opportunity presented itself and we took it. We met at an organized get-together and my first impression was she can’t be lying about her age. She had a really small stature in deep contrast to mine. The internal conflict that erupted in me as a result of trying to merge her age with her maturity was too much to bear so I let it be.

What struck me most was her eyes. I’m a sucker for pretty eyes and those eyes glittered like floating pearls in blue waters at dawn. Her voice betrayed her age, but not the wisdom in it. Our conversation was brief but by then, I was intrigued. So from that day forward, we talked almost everyday unraveling ourselves further only to discover that in many ways, we were peas in a pod. What are the odds of that happening, right?

Well, I guess it was pretty much an avalanche from there. We hung out together two more times to solidify the fact we indeed had something special going on. It was mutual and it was natural. There was hardly the need for superfluous words or acts of chivalry. It was the right kind of fine mix of perfect imperfection guided purely by instinct and divine intervention, I believe.

I swear I feel embarrassed sometimes to have found someone so young who is intellectually my equal but it is a refreshing change. A change from the mundane cliche of what relationships are today or what they ought to be like. What we have is not physical – not yet; Its purely intellectual. It is not polluted by the every day reality of materialism and lust. It is something else. It is love; it is friendship.

She is a potent source of inspiration and she inspired this piece.

For Maye.

Adoration

Her voice…
Melody, harmony…
How angels sound
Revealing loud secrets, maps
Sending me on a never ending trip
To Isle de Muerta
In search of cursed Aztec treasures;
Sounds of music
Smooth and clear, crystal
A mirror in the elevation
Of self worth;
Tickles to my ears
Unbeatable ego boost
Her moans, my name, her lips
Inspiration to go harder
Her lies…
Sweet to taste

Her body…
Sculpted to perfection
Dangerous curves
Sure to lead to the afterlife
Softer than soft
Cushions to a weary existence
Of hard won battles
Where blood and guts
Pay instant gratification
Trembling hands
Reminiscent of incurable Parkinson’s
Whenever they rove over suppleness
Light wafts of her scent
Like the aroma of baked cakes
Hits the olfactory
Numbing, distorting all other stimuli
Firing up a terminal hunger
To kiss, to taste, to lick, to eat

Her touch…
Cool water to my dry skin
Tense, taut muscles in anticipation
Of momentary pleasure
Etched forever
In the canvas of ecstatic memories
Shivers of deathly intoxication
As she works the magic
Of her hands
Even Houdini couldn’t escape
The shackles of her sinful spell
Fingers tracing, teasing
Lips so tender
The warmth of wetness
Heightening senses to a stand still
Throbbing and pulsing
Bursting like pressured pipes
To a moment of utter blankness
Where the darkness of exhaustion
Is finally welcome

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XXI)

December 1st, 2012.

The day of reckoning was here. It was a special day for her; her birthday. She had called me out of the blue after almost two weeks of no communication. I was beginning to think she had seen the light and had relented in her devious plot to overthrow Christy as number one in my life. Her call was sweet, brief and curt. I pictured her face as she spoke; the smirk of victory as she dictated what she expected of me now we were “officially” dating. The confidence with which she spoke was more infuriating than it was amusing. To me, it was now a dangerous game; a game where all was at stake and the winner had all to take.

The difference was that now, I had a plan.

Having a plan made me relish the challenge. My brain tensed – like the muscles of a wrestler preparing to enter the den to face the lioness in grueling battle. However, having a plan is one thing; executing it is another. My plan wasn’t so much of a plan. It was actually something that ought to have occurred to me after I watched the x-rated video clip but I guess I was too shaken to actually take stock of the situation and use it to my advantage. My plan was nothing that elaborate, dramatic or fancy. It was simple really. Words and words only were my defensive weapons of choice. Carefully rehearsed words…backed with the guts to go through with it, if necessary.

The funny thing was since the last phone conversation we had, she hadn’t bothered to call back. And having discovered what I perceived to be an appropriate bluff to her blackmail, I didn’t bother to call back either. She was confident that her scheme had worked out perfectly so I let her enjoy the illusion. I rehearsed every morning in front of my mirror while I brushed my teeth, I rehearsed whenever I was alone by soliloquy, trying to anticipate every possible defensive response that could arise.

I never felt satisfied with my readiness but at least, I had something. I just had to temper my raging conscience by constantly reminding myself that all was fair in war; that was how I saw it. A war for my independence. I stopped by Tunde’s place to visit after he returned from his honeymoon. When I told him about my plan, he was horrified.

“You are really going to do that?!” He asked, alarmed. We were alone in his plush apartment, indulging in a little alcohol while we discussed.

“I must. She’s made me desperate. She’s threatening my emotional sustenance.” I said evenly.

“And for that, you would ruin her life? That’s a little too dramatic, wouldn’t you say?” He asked.

“At this point, I’m way past caring. Except you’ve got a better alternative. Do you have a better alternative?” I asked pointedly.

“Come clean with Christy.” He said earnestly but there was a hint of mischief on his face. He knew better.

I laughed long and hard before I replied.

“And have her leave me? Dude, you’re not serious!” I exclaimed.

“If you care so much about Christy, why do you keep playing these games?” He asked with a tone that surprised me.

“Dude, you’re going the wrong way on this one. You’re supposed to have my back.” I said.

“And I do. I just don’t want you to ruin a good thing because you’re too immature and too dumb to realize it.” He said vehemently.

I think his words hit home…a bit. There was an uncomfortable pause. I shrugged.

“I hear you but I have to do what I have to do. Besides, I don’t think she’ll take it that far once I’ve laid all my cards on the table. She’ll fold.” I said thoughtfully.

“If she’s as crazy as you let on, what makes you think she’ll fold?” He asked.

“Relax. She will.” I said confidently tapping his shoulder, hoping to end the conversation.

“And if she doesn’t?” He persisted.

“Well, I’ll do what I have to.” I said, eager to change the subject. “How’s Amaka and the baby?”

“Oh, they are both doing great.” He said beaming proudly. “She’s still with her parents. She should be back before next weekend. She’s itching to start up with her French recipes as soon as she gets back.”

“Abeg, make she come quick. Let me come and feast on some French cuisine.” Gratefully, he had kept Amaka in the dark about this. Especially as Kemi hadn’t brought her up to speed…yet.

Christy had left not too long ago, having spent the night at my place. Thankfully, she had ICAN classes for the better part of the day. She couldn’t help but notice I was mildly distracted. After several unsuccessful attempts to pry loose my shut mind, she left me alone. After a change and final rehearsals before the mirror, I was pumped and ready for battle.

Kemi wanted to have a private lunch at her place so she was pleasantly surprised when I suggested the Oriental. This was nothing other than for my own tactical advantage but I didn’t think she suspected. I was there at exactly 3pm; a good hour before she was due to arrive. I soaked myself with a few shots of Vodka so by the time she arrived in all her pomp and splendor, I was in high spirits.

She looked lovely in her red silk chiffon dinner gown that stuck to her wonderful figure like a second skin with a red purse to match. I noticed she turned not a few heads as she entered. I felt a stab of regret as I realized things could never be the way they were between us, ever again. I had run out of steam for her because of her obsessive plot.

“Kemi.” I said, flashing her my most charming smile as I stood up and buttoned my corduroy jacket.

“Mickey.” She said politely. I moved over and gave her a civil peck on the cheek.

“You look lovely.” I said. She smiled shyly.

“Thank you.” She said simply. I drew her seat and she sat before I took mine.

The waiter appeared with a bottle of Moët & Chandon champagne in a bowl of ice and asked if we would be ordering now. I nodded at an excited Kemi and she picked the menu and made her choice. It was an excellent choice so I ordered same. There was an awkward silence as we surveyed each other. I couldn’t remember when last I had a woman on such an expensive treat without expecting the usual afterwards. It felt odd.

“This is nice.” She said taking a sip of the Champagne I poured her.

“Yes indeed.” I said. So I proceeded to making small talk, more to diffuse the mounting tension within me than interrupting the loud silence. When our meal arrived, we ceased all conversation and had a wonderful meal. However, I felt her growing discomfort as she regarded me suspiciously.

“So…” She said cautiously as she sipped her drink. “Have you called it off with Christy?”

“No.” I said nonchalantly. She frowned.

“I thought I made myself clear?”

“You did but I didn’t.” I said, my good-guy act wearing off rapidly.

“What do you mean?” She asked surprised.

“Kemi, you are an incredibly irresistible woman. I want you to know that I don’t regret our fiery moments of passion together. It was the spice of my life for a period.” I said, measuring my words carefully. She kept silent so I continued.

“But you betrayed me by this move of yours. We understood ourselves at the beginning. We don’t anymore so I must do the needful. This is the last time we are ever going to see each other.”

Her face transformed from a smile to a mask of rage.

“You don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation.” She said coolly after a while, her eyes glittering. She sipped her drink with that expression I had imagined when we spoke over the phone.

“I do. The question is, do you?” I asked quietly. She wasn’t sure of what to make of that so she waited for me to continue.

“Yes, Christy may see that video and dump me faster than a speeding bullet. Yes, I’ll be heart broken for a while. I deserve it for fooling around with you but it won’t be as nice for you when a copy of that video appears on every social media network, including Youtube and a complementary copy appears on the desk of your employer.” I paused for effect.

The shock on her face was not instantaneous but as it progressed in stages, it was unmistakable. Her lovely manicured fingers turned into fists.

“You wouldn’t!” She said stiffly.

“And why not? You changed the rules, so I’m changing the game. Christy means a lot to me and if I lose her because of you, I will spare no effort to see I ruin you. I need not tell you the effect that video that you sought to blackmail me with, and failed to blur your face in, will have on your life.”

She sat still for moments that seemed like a century across the table between us seething with rage. Her hands shook violently as she tried unsuccessfully to regain her composure. I decided to say nothing else as I monitored every explosive emotion that emanated from her being. With shaky hands, she took a sip from her glass and seemed to regain herself. She forced a smile.

“I should have known you had plans to ambush me.” She said shakily. “I thought I had won you over.”

“You can never win a man over by blackmailing him. Especially a man like me.” I said.

“Your face is on the video too, you know.” She said after a while.

“Yes. However, I didn’t earn the sobriquet of “Lagos playboy” by performing saintly deeds. My boss is well acquainted with my escapades and doesn’t mind because I’m good at what I do.” I said, smelling a victory.

She leaned back on her seat and regarded me for while. Her expression turned to a mischievous smile.

“Oddly, I feel turned on.” She whispered smiling seductively. In the past, that look, that statement was enough to get my juices flowing. Funny how infatuation dies quickly. I smiled back.

“Good for you.” I said, expressing my nonchalance in the strongest way possible. Her smile vanished immediately and before I could react, the contents of her half full glass was all over my face! The hush in the big hall was sudden as we became the center of attraction. It felt like everywhere went dark and a powerful flood light beamed on us.

“Go to hell!” She screamed before she picked up her red purse and stormed off.

“But I forgot to say happy birthday!” I yelled after her, laughing as I wiped my face, my soiled jacket and shirt. The waiter appeared at my side quickly.

“Is everything alright sir?” He asked politely, a worried look on his face.

“Everything is now. Don’t sweat it. Let me have my bill.” I said still wiping my shirt. He passed it to me and I paid the frightful bill without flinching. I left him a generous tip and left the hall, walking tall and not giving a hoot about the numerous eyes and quiet comments about the short lived drama. I got to the parking lot and paid off the security guard I had told to watch my car earlier; just in case Kemi decided to visit her fury on it.

Indeed, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Have a Merry Christmas folks! ☺ ☺

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm

The Touted Saviour And His Befuddled Subjects

On a fanciful chariot he arrived
Bedecked in his trademark fedora
And unfashionable fashion of plainness
With the mild character
Oft mistaken for the meekness of lambs
A child born on shoulders of grace
And so gracefully carried
The wiles of the crafty old tortoise
Penned fortunes
And peak ascension was inevitable
Clothed in humility, garbed in honesty
Surrounded by a loquacious army
The Tower of Babel found a voice
As emotions and festering differences
Gathered momentum and,
Became the gospel of the day
Confusion sought order
Beguiled by the appearance of divine,
The humility of identity
Held sway over iron fists,
And jamborees in honour of reason
As shoes became matters
Of national importance
Traitorous “patriots” made deals
Dirty handshakes solidified
Tacit understanding for
Swollen accounts and opposition drama
The uncompromising war lords barked
The future was at stake
In the end, it was a Napoleonic victory
Power got power
And thus came the Squealer
Skipping from side to side
In morbid defense of blunder
And the purchase of attack dogs
So well fed, they morphed into lions
Going all out against logic and reason
As the ever increasing gap
Widened further
In deference to institutionalized roguery

Now, they groan in pain
Under his Rehoboamic disposition
Misplaced priorities they say
And like the ghost of past errors
I jeer in delight
Not because I like it
Not because I don’t feel the pain
But to bring to light
Recurring stupidity in the guise
Of sentiments
Unnecessary matters of emotion
Are never worthy of consideration

If you have finally grasped understanding, from series
Of never ending storms
And the ravage of the insatiable worms
The gall of experience must
Have crystallized the sagely saying
“All that glitters is not gold”
Like lustre over whited sepulchers
Tis naught but a medium for deception

Malcolm O. Ifi

The Surrender

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in this room of white walls. My vision was blurred for a few seconds but as time went by, it became clearer. I was on a 4feet wide bed; the kind you usually see in hospitals. Hospitals…was that the reason I could perceive this pungent but familiar smell of disinfectants? Alarmed, I sat up! I was really in a hospital but not your conventional hospital. As least, it didn’t seem so. How did I get here, I wondered. There was something not right about the setting.

There was a guy on the other side of the rectangular room in a bed just like mine. He had only his shorts on but he lay uncomfortably on his back. He was asleep but I somehow could feel he was in great pain. His chest was well formed but his stomach was bloated with lumps and visible abdominal veins but there were still traces of an amazing “six pack” that once was. Something that I was constantly ever so conscious of even as my stomach continued to swell in the midst of my unhealthy eating and drinking habits. His legs were well-formed and muscular. This dude had to be an athlete, I thought. However, he was drenched in sweat in the rather cool weather and his skin had taken on a colourful tinge.

I tried to stand up but felt a shooting pain in my leg, so I lay back in bed wincing in pain. A handsome young doctor in coveralls opened the door and walked inside the room and when he saw me, he smiled.

“You’re finally awake.” He said.

He went to check my roommate first who was still in fast asleep in pain. He adjusted the drip a bit that slowly entered the man’s blood stream via a needle attached to his hand. I wondered why I’d missed the drip in the first place.

“What’s wrong with me doctor?” I asked, when he came to me.

“Just a little dislocation on your left ankle. You’ll be fine in no time.” He said, examining my right ankle. I felt that familiar pain connect with my brain again.

“Sorry. I just have to tweak it a little bit.” He said when he saw my grimace. With a fast movement of his gloved hands, he somehow tweaked my ankle and painlessly, the pain vanished.

“There! You’re good to go but I advise you rest a little first.” He said. I nodded and thanked him.

As he was about to leave, I asked what was wrong with my roommate.

“He has cirrhosis. Its a liver disease. Its terminal and in the absence of a liver transplant, he’ll die. Unfortunately, he hasn’t a dime to pay for it.” He said sadly.

“He’s in pain so I give him something to ease it. He has decided to check out later today and go home to die. Such a promising young man.” With that, the doctor left.

I felt I drowsy too like I was on drugs so I drifted off immediately the doctor left.

The sound of his distressing moans woke me up. He had just put on his very dirty shirt. Every move he made was with such great effort. How could somebody with a healthy body like that be this ill? I stood up gingerly on my affected ankle; there was no pain. I put back on my watch which lay on the bedside table. It was a Hublot. I never recalled owning one but it had been there so I imagined it was mine as there were still so many unfilled gaps in my memory, especially as to how I got here.

The sound of his collapse on the bed and a loud moan of pain brought me back.

“Do you need help?” I asked gently, rather concerned.

“I’ll manage. Thank you.” He said softly.

“Don’t you have any family that could assist you home?” I asked, my compassion getting the better of me.

“Oh, don’t worry. They can’t be bothered about me.” He said dismissively.

Ok. I thought. Time to mind my business. I still felt sad for him with the story the doctor told me.

“My name is Greg. Greg Oduware.” He said, after a pause.

I turned. That name sounded very familiar. “I’m Paul.”

“I’m about to die Paul.” He said with a finality that jolted me. Of course, I already the knew this but something in me hadn’t accepted it yet.

“Don’t say stuff like that.” I said nervously.

“But its true. I’ve made my peace with it. I just want to tell you how I got to where I am.” He said and so I sat down. His fair complexion now left him with a reddened face.

“My greatest pain in life is being the last child of my parents. I was pampered as a kid and pretty much left alone as I grew up. So when I dropped out of secondary school to play football, nobody asked me a damn thing.”

Aha! I thought. He was the young and upcoming footballer I’d read about somewhere, some time ago.

“My talent was obvious so it wasn’t hard to get up there. I joined a local club and did very well. In less than two years, I had foreign scouts fighting over me. So I ended up in Turkey where I was given a bumper package to ply my trade. I was just 19 then with a lot of money on my hands and I spent it the only way the young and foolish do. I had an endless stream of girlfriends and I drank and partied to my hearts desire. That went on for four years and I continued to excel at my game and I made more money but I totally forgot about my family. They didn’t care about me so I didn’t care about them. My father has been a drunk for the better part of his life, especially after my mum died but he’s still as strong as an Ox so it was a surprise when I failed one of my medicals after being diagnosed with liver disease. I could no longer play football so my club, quite aware I was the cause of my problems, dropped me like a bad habit.

I still didn’t believe I was that ill but I continued drinking anyway while I searched for other clubs to ply my trade but it was like I had been blacklisted so I went to England but it was even worse there. After nearly a year of visiting almost every known pub in England, I came back home broke and very sick. Well, here I am. I guess I got what I deserved.” Tears rolled out of his yellow eyes.

I cleaned my wet eyes.

“I just wanted to tell someone my story. I just wanted someone to sympathize with me, without judging me. Thank you for listening.”

“But…but you can’t just give up now.” I said, my voice breaking.

“Paul, look am me. I’m finished. Nothing can help me now.” He said weakly and without emotion.

I struggled for words to encourage him but how do you encourage a man who’s convinced he has no hope and is ready to die. My tears flowed freely now as I still couldn’t believe that he was going to be no more soon.

“Do you believe in God?” I asked.

“No. Do you?”

I nodded. I knew in my heart that I had never been a good christian despite a very christian upbringing but I was desperate to console him. I was suddenly desperate that if he died, he would go to hell. I didn’t want him to die.

“Will you pray with me?” I asked. He shrugged nonchalantly. I drew a chair nearer to him and sat in front of him, ignoring the stale odour that emanated from him. I held his profusely sweating hands and we both closed our eyes.

“Dear Jesus, I come to you with a deep burden in my heart knowing I am not worthy to call on you for if there is anyone who has constantly spurned your advances, it is me. I have crucified you over and over again by fleeing continuously from your presence. I’m so sorry. I come to you on behalf of Greg, my sick friend here who has never felt love and is about to die. You are the greatest doctor. Please heal him Lord. I don’t want him to die from this illness. I don’t want him to die in sin. I don’t want to die in sin. Please give us both a sign that you still care. And if it is your will that he should die, please welcome him to your bosom whether he believes in you or not. Amen.”

When I opened my eyes, there were tears in his yellow eyes. He smiled through his tears for the first time and we hugged each other with our tears pouring like a fountain, feeling lifted in our hearts and spirits.

That was when I felt the wetness of the pillow on my face. I had been dreaming and crying in my sleep. So I went down on my knees and prayed.

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Engage on twitter @saymalcolm.

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XX)

November 13th, 2012.
9: 12pm.

I was disconcerted after viewing the contents of the memory card and was unable to function properly at the meeting. My mind was reeling every possible scenario if Christy ever saw that video especially in the light of all that happened during Tunde’s wedding reception. It all came down to one outcome; It would destroy her. She so believed in me because whatever doubts she had, had been clearly expelled. Seeing this would make her hate me and probably all men forever!

I was so lost in thought throughout the meeting that I hardly heard a word. Apart from an occasional grunt or monosyllabic reply when any remark was directed at me, I couldn’t contribute a damn thing. Luckily, Nike was around and was the star of the meeting as she beamed at the director’s constant praise of her achievements at our Nairobi office. She passed me a coy smile a couple of times but I couldn’t even bring myself to respond. I was that depressed.

Immediately after the lengthy meeting which lasted till about 6pm, I locked my office and headed out of the building before anyone noticed. There was a little Champagne popping so I used the organized commotion to escape. I drove straight to a bar not too far from the office where I would have some privacy as I dared not hit the road by this time and get stuck in traffic.

On my way to the bar, I called Christy and we talked for a long while. My guilt created a gush of weird emotions that I couldn’t control so I rambled on and on about nothing in particular. After we ended the conversation, I noticed my heart was thumping so hard. I hope I hadn’t given myself away so easily. This was quite unlike me. I got into the bar, selected a private spot and ordered a bottle of Harp. As I drank, I replayed the events of the day in my head. There was no clear threat from Kemi yet, I thought in a bid to console myself but deep down, I knew better. She’d gotten desperate and desperate women are dangerous. I learned that the hard way. She wouldn’t rattle me with this video clip if she didn’t have sinister plans now, would she?

I’m to blame, I cursed. I should have noticed she was getting attached. In fact, I did notice on two seperate occasions; when she wanted to talk after one of our crazy sessions but I was so worn out that I slept off shortly after she brought up a topic. When I woke up the next morning, I found us in a doctored “spoon” position. I had merely laughed it off and forgot all about it. Well, I guess I put myself in this situation because I stopped paying attention.

I fiddled with the question of how to get rid of this unfortunate situation for over an hour but couldn’t find any escape route. The only way out was to lay it all before Christy before Kemi beat me to it. There was no question that I was ever going to leave Christy for Kemi. I had this sudden hatred for her brewing up in my soul because she’d played a fast one on me. It never occurred to me that any form of movie shooting was going to happen. I was proper fucked!

I picked up my phone and dialed her number. She picked on the first ring.

“Hello.” She didn’t have the number I used to call her.

“Its me.” I said stiffly.

“Mickey, I was wondering when you were going to call.” She said, sounding cheerful. I could envisage the smirk of satisfaction on her face as she spoke. It infuriated me the more.

“Just what do you plan to do with that video?” I said, uninterested in getting into any form of familiar chit chat.

“I don’t know. I just like watching it.” She said impatiently. “Have you considered my offer?” She asked.

“It can never work between us, especially with what’s going on now.” I said heatedly.

“What’s going on?” She asked innocently.

“What’s going on?! You’re trying to bully me into submission!” I said angrily. I didn’t want to use the word ‘blackmail’ in hopes that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not trying to bully you. I know you love me. I’m trying to help you come straight out.” She said this with all confidence. I don’t think I’ve ever been this livid with rage my whole life!

“What?!” I said, not believing my ears.

“You remember the night you told me loved me?” She asked.

“I never told you I loved you! I said I loved the way you made me feel!!” I said barely able to contain my anger. I could remember vividly the night she was referring to.

She was silent for a while. I hoped I’d struck a reasonable nerve.

“What do you want?” I asked exasperated.

“I want you! Haven’t you heard anything I said?!” She screamed suddenly. I was about to scream back at her but she cut the line.

“What the hell?! This bitch is crazy!!” I muttered, staring at my phone, shocked out of my wits. What was I going to do, I wondered in despair.

As I drank away my misery, my phone rang. An unregistered foreign number.

“Hello.” I answered.

“Bonjoir monsieur…or is it bonsoir?” I recognized Tunde’s cheerful voice.

“Tundy, how you dey?” I said, sighing in relief.

“I’m great man. You?”

“Men, I’m having my first bottle of beer for the day right now.” I said wearily. He laughed heartily.

“How’s our wife? I see you guys have been visiting French kitchens in Paris.” I said, referring to the facebook pictures I saw earlier.

“Oh, you know Amaka. She’s trying to learn some french cuisines that she’ll bring back to Nigeria. She’s doing great by the way. She says hi. I’m taking her out soon. And C?”

“She’s great.” I said, sadly. He noticed the depression in my voice.

“Ok, talk to papa. What have you done now?”

So I spilled my guts. I told him everything not skipping a detail. He listened quietly.

“So you mean she taped the whole scene.” He asked again, after I concluded.

“You guy is live on blueray man.” I said sighing heavily. He burst into laughter. Yeah, I knew he was going to laugh.

“Sorry I’m laughing but it so damn funny! You know I warned you.” He said as his laughter subsided.

“Whatever!” I said impatiently.

“You still got the video?” He asked.

“I’m with the memory card as we speak.”

“Abeg, keep it safe till I get back. I just gotta see it!” He said, snickering mischievously.

“See what? Behave yourself jor! You want to see me naked?!”

“Eeeewww! Not you!!” He said, then broke into a whisper. “I’ve always wondered what Kemi looked like naked.”

“So said the newly married man who’s so in love with his wife.” I mocked.

“What’s there? Its not like I want to do anything.” He said defensively.

“It doesn’t matter because I’m telling!” I said and we both laughed.

“You should be worried though.” He said after our laughter subsided. “This will break C’s heart. In fact, it will destroy her! You know she’s soft-hearted.”

“You think I don’t know this?!” I shouted angrily.

“Well, I told you to clean up your act. We’re not getting any younger. Maybe its when Amy puts to bed that you’ll realize this.”

I sighed.

“Anyway, before your gloom makes me forget, I’ve got good news!” He said excitedly.

“What is it?” I asked, not really in the mood.

“I’m going to be a father!” He exclaimed happily.

“For real!!!” I exclaimed, brightening up considerably. “Congrats man! You’re a real sharp shooter. When did you find out?”

“Just today o. We’re celebrating!”

“Extend all my love. Ah, so my God child will be here soon?” I said, elated with the news.

“God child, ke? I can’t have my child around rogues!” He mocked. We both laughed.

“So what are you going to do?” He asked after a pause.

“I’m going to have to tell Christy the truth. I don’t see any other way out.” I said sadly.

“You know if you do that, its over, right?” He said quietly.

“I know.” I replied glumly. “What choice do I have?” There was a long pause.

“You know what’s funny about your predicament? It ought to be the other way round. Its Kemi who should be scared of that video going viral. You’re the guy. People won’t mind you handling two girls at a time. In fact, you’ll get praised for it – that’s if you put on a good show.” He said, laughing again.

And there it was! Call it a spark, a lit bulb or whatever but something woke up in my brain.

“Dude, you’re a genius!” I said, my spirits lifting up.

“Of course I am!” He said, cockily. Then, unsure of what he did, he asked, “What did I say?”

“Send my love to Iyawo. I’ll get back to you later. I gotta think!” I said excitedly.

“Ah, a brain wave. Glad to be of help.” He said. “Don’t do anything stupid man. Get at me when you decide what to do.”

“I will. Congrats man!” I said barely able to contain my excitement. I cut the call before he could say anything else.

I knew what I was going to do! Oh, how I love these Eureka moments!!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Follow on twitter @saymalcolm

The Bridge Over Turbulent Waters (V)

How often does a parent get tongued tied in the face of certain situations that demand some form of assertion of moral superiority with her child? Anna couldn’t still believe that after Nkechi had narrated an inconceivable story, she had found it difficult or even impossible to speak. Emeka just sat back and watched. The first thought that crossed her mind was that he was trying to evade his responsibility but there was a certain expression on his face she couldn’t interpret. It was sincere and tender. Aha! She thought to herself. This boy has convinced my daughter to tell a lie. However there was a rising panic within her. Nkechi was no push over and she wouldn’t lie about this. Was this why she kept silent the whole time? Why would they concoct a story as fantastic as this to prove Emeka’s innocence? What if it were true?

“So…that’s what happened.” Nkechi said.

Anna made another attempt to speak but the words wouldn’t come out. After a long and uncomfortable pause. She finally found her tongue.

“What kind of story is this? Was this story Emeka’s idea?” She asked visibly agitated.

Emeka looked shocked at the mention of his name. He wanted to speak but Nkechi cut in.

“Mom, I just told you I was raped!” She said angrily.

“Tufia! Chukwu ekwe kwana ife ojo!! Don’t say that!!!” Anna chided, still thinking it was all a bad dream but the look on her Nkechi’s face told her it was no dream.

“Ewo! Alu!!” She screamed suddenly, gripping her hair when the realization sank in finally. “Are you telling me Emeka is not responsible for your pregnancy?!”

“No, ma! I’m not o.” Emeka said, finally speaking for the first time. “My relationship with Nk has been nothing more than platonic.”

“Hmmmmm!” The loud sound emitted from her closed lips. The tears began to run down her eyes. She bowed her head as the tears became torrential.

“Ah God! Why have you abandoned me?” She cried. “Haven’t I suffered enough? Ah!” She rose and went to join Nkechi where she sat and hugged her tightly.

“And you have been suffering in silence all this while? Why didn’t you tell me?” She said in between sobs.

Nkechi melted into her mother’s arms and her tears came out in the open. Her body shook convulsively as the tears increased and she just let it all out.

Emeka felt pleased to finally see some emotion come out of Nkechi but he felt stuck in an awkward moment. What does a guy do when he caught in this kind of situation?

“But why have you been running away from me?” She asked Emeka, her tears flowing like Niagara falls. It was a rhetorical question so he didn’t bother to answer.

It was a mother-daughter moment where there was that rare and open display of emotion and affection. Emeka silently got to his feet and tip-toed to the door as he felt his usefulness had come to an end. At least, for now.

Police Wahala! (A story of hundred words)

After hours of marathon classes, I was totally fatigued. I had a cold bottle of Fanta at my regular spot and decided not to eat out since I had some food at home. I picked up my bag which housed my laptop and went on my merry way.

I took a bike home only to get stopped by the police half-way. Before I realized what was happening, I was at the police station on charges of being a yahoo boy. Seeing they had nothing on me, the officer asked me to bail my laptop. Bail laptop? Na person?!

Haba Naija!

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XIX)

I was nervous but careful not to show it. We’d never discussed much about anything so naturally, I was surprised. I wasn’t decided yet on how best to handle this woman with all that had been happening. Dear me, why today of all days when I have a full plate but I was curious as to why she was here and that curiosity got the better of me. I could have easily told my front desk colleague to say I was away or in a meeting. I waved her to a seat and she sat on the seat that Nike had occupied barely fifteen minutes ago.

“Is this an official visit or a friendly visit?” I asked, closing a file I’d been scribbling on as she came in.

“Its a friendly visit.” She said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“How did you know I work here? I don’t recall us ever having a conversation about where I work.” I said, observing her.

“Such info is not really that hard to come by if I want it.” She said shrugging.

“I see.” I said, leaning back on my chair.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure of this august visit?” I asked.

She smiled. Charming smile as always, highly suggestive. Her voluptuous breasts where struggling to breathe as usual from her tight blue blouse and fitted suit. She wore a sky blue skirt suit and I’m pretty partial to anything blue. There was no denying she reeked of “sexiness” as usual; unhinged, electric and highly intoxicating. She cleared off some hair that covered her face so gracefully that it felt like slow motion. Snap out of it!

“A white flag.” She said shyly.

“Are we at war?” I asked innocently.

“Aren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t know. You came with the white flag.” I said quietly.

She sighed and regarded me with those big blue eyes of hers (contacts of course). “I know you are angry with me. I’ve made a mess of things lately.”

I was surprised but I remained quiet. She expected me to say something but when she saw I wouldn’t oblige her, she continued.

“I want you to know I meant no harm. I guess I was drunk and I just got jealous when she wouldn’t stop bragging about you. She hates me you know…”

Tell me something I don’t know, I said to myself but I remained silent.

“I don’t know why. It became obvious to me a few days after you and I met.” She sighed and unbuttoned her suit jacket. If that was a ploy to distract me, she succeeded for I was momentarily distracted. That pair of familiar breasts seemed to heave a sigh of relief at the brief measure of freedom attained. She leaned forward and gazed into my eyes.

“She’s lucky she met you first. Now, whatever I do, I’m the bad one.” She said sadly.

Where is this heading to, I wondered. She looked away and stared at a painting on the wall. It was a replica of one of Pablo Picasso’s works. It was a gift from a satisfied client.

“Interesting painting.” She said after a brief examination. “I once read about the artist. I’ve forgotten his name now.” She stood up and went for a closer look.

“Pablo Picasso.” I offered. “Co-founder of the cubist movement.”

“That’s the one!” She exclaimed, snapping her fingers.

“And cubism is supposed to be a movement for people with a twisted world view? How quaint.” She said, caressing the canvass.

“Not necessarily.” I said.

“I think it started and died with him.” She said after a pause. I was impressed.

“Not at all. He’s actually one of the most successful painters. His brand of painting was dedicated to magnifying the shapes in objects. It shaped art in the 20th century and trust me, there are still a lot of cubist artists today.”

“I don’t find his works appealing though, their intrinsic value regardless.” She insisted.

“I didn’t know you loved art.” I said, astonished.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She said quietly. She continued to softly trace lines on the canvass with her fingers. From where she stood, I had a perfect view of the amazing curve and fullness of her body. Her skirt was just above her knee and her backside looked great, as usual. I felt that familiar rush.

“I don’t want to share you anymore.” She said suddenly, her voice breaking. She caught me off guard.

“What do you mean?” I asked, rather confused.

“We are one of a kind, you and I. We view the world differently. Can’t you see that?” She appealed passionately. She walked towards me and I stood up. She softly held my face in her hands. Tingling sensations sparked all through my nervous system.

“Our view may be a bit twisted but it is unique. We are free-spirited souls and we are meant to be together…” She said, looking into my eyes but I cut her off.

“Whoa! Slow down there…What’s going on here? What is this?!” I exclaimed, gently taking her hands off my face.

“We can only be truly fulfilled if we belong together. Just imagine what we can explore…together.” She said with an enthusiasm I’d never seen before.

“You’re seriously mistaken about who I am.” I said quietly.

I thought I saw a flash of anger in her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“You don’t feel anything for me?” It sounded like an accusation.

“Kemi, don’t be like that. We are both adults. We had an understanding?” I said moving away from her.

“I never planned to fall for you.” She said.

“You didn’t fall for me Kemi. Get that thought out of your head.” I said, feeling panic creep within me. “You’ve always known I love Christy. You’ve always known this.”

She was silent for a while.

“You don’t love Christy. If you did, you wouldn’t want me as much you do.” She said confidently.

“You’re seriously in danger of flattering yourself.” I said, quite amused.

“Well, its too late Michael.” She said with resignation. “I can’t help myself anymore.”

She came to me and nestled her hair on my chest and held my waist.

“I’ve missed you so much. You don’t know how hard it has been seeing her with you when I know I can make you happier than she ever could.”

The warning bells in my brain rang a loud danger note and I pulled myself away from her.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” I said quickly.

“Are you dumping me?” She asked, her face betraying her surprise.

“What we had was purely physical; nothing more. You know that.”

The door opened and Malik came in carrying a folder. He said hi to Kemi and said to me, “The meeting starts in a few minutes. These are the reports you said you needed last time.” He handed me the file.

“Did they tally with the one Acquisitions sent?” I asked, opening the folder and glancing through the papers.

“Yep. Don’t be late man.” He said and nodded at Kemi who had taken a seat and headed for the door.

“I’m behind you.” I said. I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes to two o’clock. I began to arrange the papers I would need. Kemi just sat there looking at me. There was a mixture of sadness and surprise in her eyes.

“Do you always have this spare time at the office?” I asked.

“Well, I’m working at the moment. I’m marketing.” She replied icily.

I shook my head. I noticed how she totally ignored my last statement before Malik intruded. I thought of repeating myself again but I decided against it. She’d heard me loud and clear. I ignored her and continued to search for documents that I would need. She just sat and stared. There was a smile on her face that I found menacing. You know that kind of victory smile when someone’s got the goods on you. She made no attempt to leave. Occasionally, I would glance up from what I was doing but she just sat there and kept giving me that smile.

“What?” I asked when I couldn’t take it any longer.

“I’m offering myself to you on a platter. We are destined to be together.” She said this with a radiant confidence that both irritated and frightened me.

“And Christy?” I asked.

“She doesn’t factor in this. We are predators, you and I…”

“She doesn’t factor in this?” I asked, clearly alarmed.

“We belong together.” She said quietly. She seemed tired of trying to reason with me.

“Can you leave now? I’m already late for my meeting!” I said exasperated. I had a bad feeling that this was going to end badly.

She refused to wipe that smug smile off her face. It infuriated me greatly because something was apparently not right. Worse still, I hadn’t the slightest clue.

“It would be better if you left Christy and came to me.” She sounded so…cocksure.

I’d just about had it!

“Get out!” I exploded. “GET OUT NOW!!”

My outburst shocked her. She stood up immediately and dropped something tiny on the table. It was a black micro memory card.

“The contents have kept me warm on many cold nights.” She said, her eyes flashing. With that, she left my office.

I stood transfixed for many seconds staring at the memory card, my worst fears eating at my soul. With shaky hands I picked the card up and looked at it. It was new. I picked up the intercom and dialed Suzanne. She picked on the first ring.

“Hey Sue, do you still have that memory card reader I saw with you last week?”

“Yeah, I do. Are you not attending the meeting?” She asked.

“I will. I just need your card reader asap.” I said.

“I’ll bring it now.” She said and hung up. Approximately fifteen seconds later, she opened my door. Her office was a few steps away.

“Catch!” She said as she threw it to me. I caught it expertly and thanked her. She nodded and told me not to be late.

I frantically inserted the card to the reader and connected the reader to my laptop. It was a video file. With sweaty fingers despite the low temperature in my office, I clicked on the video. It was set in a familiar room. It was directed at a massive king size bed that I remembered to be where we had a our last tryst; our threesome. Then it hit me!

The bitch recorded it!

It had one hour, twenty-two minutes of play time. I fast forwarded it and then, I saw the motion picture of the other girl riding me…while Kemi looked on. She kept glancing at the hidden camera. I fast forwarded again and this time they were both on me. The audio wasn’t so good but I could hear my voice in snatches. I couldn’t believe my eyes! A cold rage gripped me. I closed the video and covered my face in disbelief, cursing and swearing in the vilest words I knew. She had me by the balls and she knew it!

The player just got played!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Follow on twitter @saymalcolm

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XVIII)

November 13th 2012.
11:49am.

It was one of those days. When I awoke in the morning, I wasn’t feeling refreshed. In fact, I felt like I hadn’t slept a wink all night even though I had blacked out the moment my body hit the bed. My routine at work had been so crazy for the past two to three weeks. Deadlines, management meetings, team meetings, project supervision and the rest. I had no time to do any other thing at all because by the time I got home, I was dead tired to the bone.

Christy’s schedule seemed to be as hectic as mine as well as we had barely seen each other in almost a week but the calls were a constant and seemed to increase in intensity. She explained that her bank was in the process of an acquisition so everyone had to be on their toes and work their butts off especially as the management had taken to firing staffs it deemed incompetent on a whim. It would be terrible to get laid off at a time like this when the economy was still grappling with post recession challenges, especially with the current rate of unemployment. She never failed to regale me with tales of the growing animosity between herself and Kemi at the office. It had now become part of “office gist” with some colleagues already taking sides.

I really didn’t know what to make of all this at first and inasmuch as I was dying to put an end to this foolishness, I couldn’t make the mistake of being seen with Kemi or provide her with an opportunity that would put us together asides from chance. My wariness turned to some form paranoia. After taking some time to mull it over, I realized her intentions were crystal clear now; she wanted to ruin what I had with Christy.

I had to explain myself to Tunde after the misunderstanding at his reception that nearly led to a drama scene. Especially as I thought it prudent to make myself scarce at the wedding after-party knowing the orchestrator of the drama was going to be and there was no telling what would happen. Christy was in no mood to go anywhere near where Kemi would be either after the highly embarrassing episode so we just curled up together in bed for the rest of the day and watched movies after several bouts of intense love making.

He was quite cross with me for not even showing up and switching off my phone but when I explained everything to him, I thought his jaw was going to drop. He gave me this look like I was irredeemable but he understood my predicament and advised me to get my act together. I listened respectfully as he now spoke from a superior moral ground…the moral ground of a married man. Well, he was now somewhere in France with his wife on their honeymoon. His last post on facebook was a picture of him and Amaka dressed as Parisian chefs at E. Dehillerin French Kitchen.

I shook off these thoughts and got down to business. My desk was piled with numerous reports I was yet to vet. I had just concluded an appointment scheduled with a client and would soon be out of my desk again for the never ending management meetings with the accounts department. The end of year was here and there was always the early rush to regularize the company books before the end of the fiscal year. I had been alone for a little over twenty minutes going through reports when Malik Ibrahim burst in my office without knocking – in his usual manner.

“Guess who just entered the building.” He panted excitedly.

“Malik, I’m busy now abeg. Look at my desk.” I pleaded, pointing at the stacks of files on my desk. “I’ve got too much to do.”

“Guess.” He continued, ignoring me totally.

I sat back and studied him. I hadn’t seen him this animated in a long while. It had to be serious.

“Goodluck Jonathan?” I asked.

He made a face showing how far off the mark I was. I was about to make a second attempt but he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“The Iron Lady is back!” He blurted out.

I swear I wasn’t expecting to hear that so unconsciously, my face gave off an expression that made Malik roar in laughter. As if on cue, four other colleagues barged into my office all at once making similar announcements.

“Madam Nike is back o!” they echoed and laughed.

I leaned back on my seat, amazed at the occurrence that made five colleagues barge into my private space and I shook my head ruefully. Papa Grand, the janitor had done his work well. He must have told a beautiful story of what he had stumbled into a couple of months ago. (To refresh your memory, check out episode three of my memoirs). When they saw I didn’t have a witty retort as I usually did, they filed out of my office one after the other. Only Malik remained.

“You have nothing to say. That’s a first!” Malik exclaimed.

“Wait, you guys want me to lose my job abi?” I asked. “The way you all barged in here to inform me as if I should be interested. If oga hears this…”

“You think he doesn’t know? Wake up man, oga never misses a thing. Especially after the confrontation you had with Nike.” Malik said, cutting me off.

“Serious?!” I asked, shocked.

“Yes now.” Maliks said, very sure of himself.

“Ok. I’ve heard you. Can I get back to work now?” I asked but there was a sudden commotion outside my half open door and before Malik could respond, as I live and breathe, Nike – the Iron Lady as she was called, appeared at my door. Malik stood up immediately, mumbled a reminder about a meeting, said a nervous greeting to Nike and shuffled out of my office, shutting the door gently behind him. Nike stood there, by the door and gave me a smile.

Now, I must confess I was mildly grateful that my colleagues had warned me about her arrival. However, it still didn’t prepare me for the fresh loveliness I saw in her. She was dressed in a trouser suit that accentuated her nice figure as usual. Her skin glowed and her eyes twinkled. She looked happy, well kept and as sexy as hell. All thoughts of work and Kemi’s wahala evaporated into thin air.

“Mickey, Mickey.” She said, her smile expanding.

“Nike.” I said rising from my seat. She came closer and extended her hand which I took. Soft and sweaty. I offered the seat opposite me and sat back down.

“Quite a surprise. I didn’t know you were in the country.” I said.

“You certainly don’t look surprised.” She replied and I laughed.

“I just came in last night. End of year rush. You know how it is.” She continued. I nodded.

“So, how are you? You look well. I guess Nairobi agrees with you.” I said appraising her lustfully, an appraisal she seemed to appreciate.

“Its a beautiful place but still, there’s no place like home.” She said. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Its the stress. Mad rush to keep up with schedules and all.” I said shrugging. I had noticed black circles around my eyes some days ago. A clear indication that I wasn’t sleeping well. Besides, I wasn’t feeling myself usual boisterous self. There was an awkward silence between us. Her perfume, that same perfume had commandeered the chilled atmosphere in my office and flashes of our encounter came flooding through my subconscious.

“I see you’re not yet married.” She said suddenly.

“Err…not yet.” I said smiling. “You?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Kenyan men are fun but not my type.” She said brusquely.

“Oh.” I said, nodding.

“Yeah.” She replied. It was apparent we were both trying to be civil when what we really wanted to do was to reach out for each other and play out a sequel. After, a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she rose.

“I have to see the director. I just wanted to say hi.” She said. I rose up too.

“It is much appreciated.” We shook hands again. “Perhaps we could hangout…after all the craziness?”

Her face lit up. “I’d love that.” Our hands were still together and a sudden surge of current coursed through my blood. I left my table, still holding her hand and she came to me and our lips locked together, all civility forgotten. Her body felt fuller than the last time as I squeezed and squeezed. She moaned, and murmured in my ear how she missed me. I drew back momentarily but she pulled me back to her.

“You don’t want to keep the director waiting.” I said, as she smothered my cheeks with kisses. She pulled away finally, holding my hands still. She looked at me with a soft smile on her face I found rather surprising. Without a word, she turned and made a few adjustments on the mirror that hung on the wall in my office before she left.

I sat back down on my chair and wondered why I was such a slave to my passion. I had already lost this battle, I thought miserably. After wallowing in self pity for a few minutes, I got up and faced the mirror and made sure there was no trace of Nike on me when the phone on my desk rang.

“Hello.”

“Good morning sir. Its Florence from the front desk. There is a Miss Kemi Odutayo here to see you.”

What the hell???!!!

Malcolm O. Ifi.

Follow on twitter @saymalcolm

Copyright © 2012 Malcolm O. Ifi.

The Bridge Over Turbulent Waters (IV)

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep this up. I saw your mom this morning again and I ran.” Emeka said, a worried expression on his face.

“I know. Please be patient with me. I just need a little time to sort my feelings out.” Nkechi pleaded.

“You are too young to sort this thing out by yourself. You need parental guidance.” Emeka insisted.

“My mother won’t understand. Besides, what will I tell her I was doing outside the house by that time?” She asked.

“You’ll have to make something up. You can’t be allowed to go through this trauma alone.” He said, his face creased in a worried frown. She smiled and touched his face affectionately. He really did care.

“But I’m not alone in this. You’ve always been there for me.”

There was an awkward silence. Her soft caress sent shivers through him. That night, a pure cold rage he had never known had gripped him when she got to his house in such a mess. A look at her slightly reddened right eye, dusty clothes, dusty body, the trickle of blood from her legs and the vacant expression on her face told him what had happened. He had raved and ranted, temporarily losing his mind at the horror. Why would anybody rape Nkechi? Why were people so wicked?! She answered not a word to his twenty one questions. She’d had just asked to go to the bathroom where she was for a while. He passed her a t-shirt and a pair of shorts to change into after she’d had a bath. When she came out, she was still in a daze, shivering. Her light complexioned face had reddened immeasurably. There was a little gash across her right eye. Even when he applied a little spirit to the gash on her eye, she seemed immune to the pain. It was when he held her in a tight embrace that the tears burst forth. She wept and wept while he comforted her like a he would a baby. She finally fell asleep in his arms on the floor.

He remembered the way he felt that night. For the first time in his life, he felt he could commit murder and get away with it. If only he could get who did this, words would be inadequate to explain the gruesome pain he would make that guy go through. He was furious with her too for taking such a risk but now was hardly the time to trade blames. He lay awake listening to her quiet but laboured breathing while he imagined himself castrating the culprit in a hundred different ways. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, she woke with a start, struggling and screaming. It took quite an effort to subdue and calm her down. It was then he took her to the bed and gently encouraged her to go back to sleep after her many tears of fright. He decided there and then never to bring up the issue of what happened that night again. She really need time to heal. The next morning, he bought her the pill and told her take it. Weeks later when she told him she felt malaria symptoms, he knew immediately she was pregnant. He felt depressed when she told him she had forgotten to take the pill. Things got worse when her mother discovered and concluded it had to be him when she wouldn’t talk. They talked everyday since the incident and there was no telling now that a deeper bond had been formed between them.

“So have you decided?” He asked quietly.

“I’m going to abort it.” She said with conviction.

“That’s too big a decision to take NK. You shouldn’t take it on your own. You’re too young for that.” Emeka reasoned.

“My mother would never allow it. She’ll tell me its a gift from God.”

“And you know this how? Don’t assume. I’m sure she’ll understand the peculiar circumstances.”

She shook her head vehemently. “My mother is the strongest catholic you’ll ever know. She’ll never allow it for whatever reason.”

“But you are catholic as well, aren’t you? Don’t you think you’ll feel bad ending the life of an innocent child?”

She gave him a ridiculous look. “Are you seriously trying to make me feel guilty over my decision?”

“No, I’m just telling you the truth.” He said quietly.

She gave a short sarcastic laugh and looked away. Emeka couldn’t understand what that laugh meant but he didn’t have to ask.

“Haven’t you ever gotten a girl pregnant before?” She asked suddenly. The question was one hell of a jolt.

“What…what has that…that got to do with anything?” He stammered, totally taken by surprise.

“Why would you even ask me that?!” He continued, regaining his balance and getting angry at himself for letting her get him unawares.

“I’m was just asking. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” She said penitently, realizing he was angry.

“I’m not offended…but that was a quite a presumptive question.” He said, a bit relieved.

There was an awkward silence between them. He marveled at her once again. She was a wonder to behold. Too smart for her age; too damn smart. He silently vowed never to underestimate her again because of her age. He looked at her and couldn’t help but see just how beautiful she was. The little gash on her right eye had healed nicely and was barely visible. Her pretty eyes still shone brilliantly despite the eye bags which suggested she hadn’t been sleeping much recently. Regardless, she was still her smart and vivacious self. Her long flowered gown danced as the evening wind blew. She played with a mango leaf that she’d idly plucked. He sighed and gave in.

“Ok. I have and I had her abort it. But I was young and foolish then…I was in school. I didn’t want to disappoint anybody…you don’t have to make the same mistake I did.” He said.

“I don’t think you made a mistake. I think you made a practical decision.” She said quietly.

Again he was taken aback by her understanding and unbiased perspective. Boy! Have I got a live one here, he thought.

“Sometimes, I still feel guilt…” He said looking away. He had often wondered in his moments of reflection if his life would have been any different than it was now. The child would have been seven years old by now had he been courageous enough. The last he’d heard about Agatha, she was married.

“Emeka…I understand you perfectly but I really need you to understand me.” She pleaded softly. “I have struggled to subdue what happened to me and I’ve almost succeeded but this…”thing” growing inside me will always be a reminder.” She said looking at her stomach. She paused and looked away, her voice choking with emotion. Her hand caressed her stomach unconsciously.

“I want to forget that I lost my virginity to a rapist. Don’t I deserve a second chance?”

Emeka sighed heavily. He really couldn’t fault her. Her reasons were mature and iron clad. He tried a different approach.

“What if something happens? What if something goes wrong?” He asked feeling trapped.

“What could go wrong? Girls have abortions everyday.” She said laughing off his fears.

“That still doesn’t make me feel any better.” He said looking glum

“Would you prefer I kept the child? Would you raise the child with me?”

“I’m sure your mother will support you. That’s if she doesn’t make an exception to her rule against abortion.”

“I know my mother.” Nkechi insisted stubbornly. “She will never go against the doctrines of her faith for any reason.”

Emeka wanted to say something but felt tongue tied. He was dreading the prospect of being the one to accompany her to the table. What if something wrong happened? Especially now that her mother was so convinced that he was responsible.

“Nkechi, this line of thought you are towing is unreasonable. Its not safe. You have to inform your mother before you go ahead. I will not have a hand in this because if something goes wrong, my life will be over as we know it.” He said firmly.

She knew he was serious and was done arguing. The way his face became bare of emotion was a sign she was used to. Why wouldn’t he understand that nothing would go wrong? She felt tears well up in her eyes. He had just rejected her.

“Fine. I’ll do it alone.” She said in defiance like a petulant child, choking back her tears. She turned to leave but he held her back. A great gust of wind blew bringing a little dust and the unlocked gate of leading to her compound swung open. He pulled her to himself and she couldn’t hold her tears a longer.

“Why are you abandoning me now?” She sobbed.

“I’m not abandoning you.” Emeka said, alarmed that she thought that. “I just want to do the right thing.” He held her tighter and caressed her back. He felt her tears wet his shirt but he didn’t mind.

It was getting dark already. The mango tree provided a good shade from the prying eyes of neighbours who hung around their balconies and had a good view of inside her compound and outside where they stood. He made an on the spot decision.

“When is your mother coming back?” He asked suddenly.

“She’ll be home before eight.” She said, wiping her eyes.

“Ok.” He said falling silent.

She looked into his face in the creeping darkness. The shadows of the evening were cast on his face. His eyes shone with intensity. She always felt safe with him.

“You are going to tell your mother everything tonight.” He blurted out suddenly.

“But…” She protested.

“I’ll be with here with you when you do. Whatever you decide to do afterwards, I’ll stick my neck in.” He continued, ignoring her protest.

She wanted to protest further but she knew it was useless. His mind was made up. At least, he would be there. She knew her mother liked him.

“So will you at least come inside now? The mosquitoes here have been dealing with me since.” She asked, after a few seconds of silence.

He adjusted his satchel and hand in hand, they walked into the house.

Follow on twitter @saymalcolm

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XVII)

Rule Number One: When this kind of shit hits the fan, recovery is essential. Fumbling, bumbling and stuttering totally gives you away.

I let her see the shock on my face. Not the guilty shock of being exposed but the shock that says in not so many words, “What the fuck are you talking about?” After the shock, came the confident laughter.

“What are you talking about? That’s just ridiculous.” I said, casually serious. I kept my voice low.

There was a little frown on her face; doubt. But it went as quickly as it came. She continued her onslaught.

“I know everything. She told me everything.” She said, whimpering. The pain I saw in her eyes hurt me. I think I realized then how much she loved me.

“What’s everything? Who told everything?” I asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

The doubts came up again but this time, as strong as an ox. She had trouble suppressing it.

“Kemi. You have been having an affair with Kemi, haven’t you?” Her tone had dropped considerably. It appeared she had become aware that the attention in the room was focused on us.

Rule Two: Deflect. Turn the mirror and give her a view of what you see.

“Really?!” I asked, feigning a little disappointment and letting it show on my face now. I glanced at her table. Her gaze followed mine. There were two empty bottles of red wine and a third that had only recently been uncorked.

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you? I asked, gently now. Before she could reply, I took her hands and led her outside the reception hall. We walked amidst the eyes of curious busy bodies and who were anxiously waiting for a gossip story to unfold. She reluctantly allowed her self to be dragged. As we stepped outside the hall, I squinted at the bright sun shine and immediately, my face began to form sweat beads that had been suppressed by the air conditioned hall. My palm was sweaty and my legs shook so violently that I feared it would give way from under me but I maintained my tough and unperturbed exterior. We stopped in front of my car.

“Wow! Where did this Christy come from? So now, we air dirty laundry in public, right?” I said, quite sternly.

“Where is Kemi? I’d like her to repeat what she said to you in front of me.” I said rather miffed.

Pause.

I knew Kemi had escaped to God-knows where and from the hurt on Christy’s face, she wouldn’t have the nerve to see Kemi one more time or go through with accusations and counter-accusations, especially as there were doubts now.

“I don’t know. She’s probably in there somewhere.” Christy replied, a bit impatiently. Her face was flushed. She lifted her small hand bag towards her face to protect her face from the sun.

“Let’s go and fetch her.” I said angrily, holding her hands and heading back to the hall. If she agreed, I was sunk!

“No, I don’t want to go in there again.” She squirmed. She was feeling remorseful over her outburst in there and a bit embarrassed; I was counting on it. I sighed in relief.

“Why? We have to get to the bottom of this!” I said, angrily, my confidence greatly bolstered. I made to leave her and head back to the hall on my own but she held me back.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” She pleaded, the tears still in her eyes. “I’m a bit drunk.”

“Is that your excuse for embarrassing me in there?” I asked petulantly but celebrating internally that my plot had worked to perfection.

Rule Three: Badger her!

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking…” I cut her short.

“Have I ever given you any cause to doubt me since we started dating?” I asked. Her head was bowed to the floor and she continued to stifle her tears. She was sweating profusely now.

“Have I?” I asked, a bit louder.

“No.” She said, softly.

“How did Kemi tell you a story and you fell for it, hook, line and sinker without even making an attempt to verify before you crucify me publicly?” I continued.

“I…I…” She began but I cut in again

“Is that how much you trust me?” I asked. She remained silent, her sniffs increasing in intensity. Her pure white handkerchief was now stained with a combination of her tears, sweat and make-up.

“So you never trusted me?” I asked, as if in realization.

“I trust you, Mickey. I trust you with all my heart.” She said, holding my hands. I pulled away. Her tears came out in torrents when I stepped a few paces away from her, lost in thought.

“If you never trusted me, how could you love me?” I asked, more to myself than to her.

She ran to me and held me from behind before I could move away from her.

“I love you Mickey. I love you so much.” She cried.

“Then why are you breaking my heart?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.

Pause.

Ok, I get it. You must be saying to yourself what a shameless, cheating, sugar-coated tongued devil I am. I won’t argue; just hear me out. My tears were genuine, only misinterpreted. I was indeed heart-broken seeing her cry so much. I was overpowered by a strong sense of guilt that I had just successfully manipulated her. It made me realize what a sweet and innocent jewel I had and at that moment, I had an epiphany. I never wanted to see her cry again. I was truly, deeply, madly in love with her.

“I love you too.” I said holding her close. It was a warm moment of peace and relief under the blazing sun for both of us, albeit for different reasons. Our kiss was deep and passionate like the very first time. I felt myself melt into her and she into me as we were transported temporarily to a world of bright lights and dizzying colours. The sound of the double doors of hall opening brought me back to the world. I saw Ifeanyi, Austin and Tuoyo come out into the blazing sun. There was a funny look on Austin’s face as he saw us caught up in so passionate a kiss. I think he was the closest during her outburst so he must have heard enough to have added two and two together. I waved them back immediately. They nodded, seeing that I had it under control. As they retraced their steps, they ran into others who came out with hopes of enjoying a little drama scene. Christy became aware that some of the guests had stepped outside to catch the drama and she suddenly became nervous.

“Let’s get out of here.” I said, noticing her obvious discomfort.

She nodded silently. I opened the car and she got in. I sent a text message to Tuoyo and Ifeanyi telling them that I was leaving. I’d catch up with them later. It was on the way that I got the full story of what transpired at the bachelorette.

“We were all quite drunk last night. It all began when Amaka began to talk about Tunde.” Christy began. “How they met and how she managed to put him on a leash. You featured prominently as she mentioned you and Tunde were inseparable partners in crime.”

“Whatever that means.” I smirked.

“She extended the floor to me because we both have you two in common. That was when Kemi passed a snide comment. I didn’t hear it but I saw the shock on the faces of those who did.”

“You didn’t ask those who heard?” I asked, my heart beating faster.

“I did but no one would tell. So I had to meet Kemi privately to know what she said. She was pretty wasted; we all were…she seemed so sure of herself and uninhibited…” She broke off. The image was too strong for her.

The last picture that flashed through my head was my threesome with Kemi and what’s the other girl’s name. I hoped that stupid home wrecker didn’t paint the sordid picture. I was so angry with myself. I knew somewhere in the recesses of my mind that this was a very possible outcome. I had sensed jealously in Kemi on many occasions and it grew steadily; that was why I backed out. Was this her way of getting back at me? I thought we had an adult arrangement? Why did she want to ruin it for me?

“What did she say?” I asked, anxiously.

“Her exact words, “I’ve had your man more times than I care to remember”.” Christy said this looking intently at me, trying to measure my reaction. I glanced at her in surprise.

“That girl’s crazy!” I exclaimed. “Just a lift at Asaba and she’s had me?” I gave a snort.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Christy smile. There was no way to tell what it meant. I had to lighten up the situation.

“But you know what this means, don’t you?” I asked mischievously.

“What?” Christy asked confused.

“She’s got a crush on me.” I said keeping a straight face.

She laughed. Her laughter had a peculiar ring to it; it was relaxing to me. It was genuine and infectious and without knowing when, I joined in. She held my hand and when I looked into her eyes, there was a longing. I stepped my foot further down on the throttle. I had to get her home to fully utilize this moment. As for Kemi, I’ll deal with her later.

Malcolm.

Follow on twitter @saymalcolm

The Audacity Of Hope

“And Obama wins again!”

This was the final report that brought about wild jubilation in the United States of America and in many parts of the world, notably Nigeria. The social media was filled with comments about the just concluded United States Presidential election in which the democrat candidate and incumbent president, Barack Obama defeated hands down his republican opponent, Mitt Romney. The concession and victory speeches of Romney and Obama respectively were as usual, brilliant pieces of oratory; speeches that evoke hope for a brighter tomorrow for Americans.

However, while majority of Nigerians celebrated the victory of Obama at the polls, a group of misfits and skeptics took to the podium of social media to castigate the millions of Nigerians who celebrated the victory of democracy as it should be and for some, it became a bitter war of words. As I monitored this puerile war of words, I had to wonder at the evident myopia of those who decided that the victory of Obama “does not affect the price of garri in the market”.

Nigeria’s political arena has never provided this much excitement in terms of vibrant ideological evangelism, highly intellectual verbal discourse and the smooth functionality of foundationally sound institutions. The election that brought in the Goodluck Ebele Jonathan-led administration was totally bereft of these qualities. I remember with disgust, how millions of Nigerians thronged to the polls to elect a president who had no inspiring antecedents or impeccable moral orientation and displayed a prominent absence of intellect regardless of the prefix attached to his name. I remember with sadness, how Nigerians campaigned and voted for a man solely on ethnic sentiments.

Today, we are all witnesses as to how such myopic deeds can inflict severe hardship on us. I still find it utterly shocking when people still profess loyalty to the GEJ-led administration, when all we have seen are the mindless looting of the commonwealth of Nigeria by public officials, the out-of-control spiral of corruption coupled with mere lip-service to tackle it and a total lack of commitment to any form of development. It is sad that a lot of Nigerians live in an alternate reality to have been so befuddled by the ineptitude of governance in Nigeria today.

Despite this, majority of Nigerians are desirous of change in the way the system is run. This is why we followed the US Presidential elections with keen interest. The aim was not to abandon our nationality with all its contradictions and aspire to be Americans; no. The aim was simply to watch and learn how electoral campaigns should be carried out, how electoral bodies organize credible elections and how candidates ought to conduct themselves during and in the aftermath of elections. We only hope our public officers watched and have learned a thing or two from Mitt Romney’s concession speech and understood the importance of imbibing the spirit of sportmanship rather than the “do-or-die” attitude.

This is why I find it appalling and rather hypocritical that some of the same people who come on social media to rant about Nigeria’s misfortune in governance berate Nigerians who have rejoiced with Americans on Obama’s victory. These are the same people who are avid supporters of clubs in the English Premier League. I now ask, your support of Manchester United, Chelsea and the likes, how does it affect the price of garri in the market?

It is perfectly natural to defer to and enjoy a system that works. If our electoral system and our institutions were functioning reasonably, perhaps we wouldn’t have need to wonder about America, Obama and Romney. If our Premier League was properly managed, perhaps we wouldn’t cheer Manchester United, Chelsea and the likes more than we cheer Enyimba FC of Aba, Kano Pillars and the likes. Our democracy is young, just a little over a decade old but in today’s fast paced world, it is a shame that we have not made any positive strides in governance. The world will not wait for us to open our eyes and develop.

It is the prayer of every well-meaning Nigerian that one day, Nigeria will rise above the challenges she faces today. But we can never move forward or effect change without a model. Obama is a model for leadership and statesmanship; American democracy is a model for the shambolic system we currently operate and call democracy; the English Premiership is a model of how we sorely hope that one day, our Nigerian Premiership will be run.

That my friends, is the audacity of hope.

The writer is on twitter @saymalcolm

Mickey Jay: Memoirs Of A Lagos Playboy (XVI)

Now, here’s the thing about Karma. It comes around and bites you in the arse when you least expect it. Everything was going right with the world and this certainly provided a false sense of security to me. That nagging feeling that something was about to go wrong had toned down a bit. And why not? We were having mad fun with life.

It was a thing of joy and pride to see the delightful shock on Tunde’s face when we finally took off the blindfold and the first thing he laid his eyes on since the drive to the venue at Ikeja were four pairs of huge and luscious breasts. It was a struggle to tear Amaka off him for she suspected I was up to something mischievous. She even threatened to take him with her to her bachelorette until I swore I would ensure he was in good hands and indeed, he was. Miss Jade, Miss Daphne, Miss Emerald and Miss Pocahontas (not their real names of course) the four ladies who provided entertainment for the night took turns to show Tunde what he was saying goodbye to forever. We cheered him as they caressed his body and covered him with mind boggling teases, dances and mock sex motions. They made him theirs and he surrendered with joy. When they were done with him, they came after me as the organizer. My face was submerged in a sea of breasts as I plastered as many naira notes I came with on those mounds of pleasure and those beautiful bums that shook with reckless abandon within reach. They moved to the next guy when they saw I realized my wallet was getting depleted. They went through all twenty two of us and every single person parted with naira notes while Austin upped the ante with dollars. Miss Jade paid him special attention and I knew there and then that he was eventually going to take Jade home.

After all the exotic dancing, we danced with the other girls Louis brought over; about 20 of them. Young and nubile ladies from Unilag and LASU, I guessed. We danced and drank till we (men of the inner circle) eventually held a round table conference with Tunde. We reminisced on good old times and threw good natured jibes at each other as the alcohol flowed freely. It got to a stage were we all got emotional. The love and comradeship we felt was palpable. Tunde started it all when he burst into tears of gratitude and whatever else and we, all under the influence followed suit. Louis, totally drunk and out of his mind, stood up rather unsteadily while we sobbed and gave us a look of contempt.

“Pussies!” He slurred. As he tried to move, he lurched forward and collapsed back into his seat and burst into tears. It took time to process why we were shedding tears and why Louis suddenly joined in. As the fog lifted a bit, the realization that we all were probably shedding tears for different reasons brought about a simultaneous and thundering volley of laughter.

As the night wore on, we had casualties from drinking. Tuoyo was the first to leave for the rest room. He never returned. When Louis went to take a pee, he saw Tuoyo in a pool of vomit. He notified us and we dumped him inside his car outside, making sure we took his keys in case he got any ideas of driving home in his condition. Austin was the designated camera man. He took embarrassing snap shots of everyone in their various moments of madness. He moved from place to place snapping away like crazy with a bottle of Jack Daniel under one armpit. On more than two occasions, he came and hugged Tunde, I and Kome and ran off again. Tunde laughed when we gave him puzzled looks.

“He’s been away from Nigeria for too long. He never believed Nigeria was this much fun.” He explained apologetically.

“He’s just skipping about like an excited kid who was giving a bowl of candy.” Kome said, shaking his head.

“He’s definitely going to want to come back soon when he leaves for Germany.” I said.

“I’m telling you!” Tunde concurred.
“But seriously though, those pictures he’s taking…”

“Relax. They won’t get to the wrong hands. I’m targeting Austin. I’ll get the camera off him pretty soon.” I said.

It was initially to be an all gentlemen’s affair but the guys came with girls. Not their real girlfriends anyway; that was strictly prohibited as was any form of cameras or cams. Only Austin was allowed to come in with a camcorder after severe protests that we ought to have a memory of the night. We finally agreed that the pictures and videos would be viewed by the inner circle only, after which we would destroy the evidence.

The party continued till the wee hours of the morning. We left the party people who seemed to have tripled in number in the last couple of hours. We got to our senses at about a few minutes to four when we realized we had a wedding to attend in a few hours. Tunde by this time, was a wasted heap, hanging on my shoulders, uttering all sorts of mumbo jumbo. I was pretty drunk too but as I was the designated driver, I tried to drink with moderation though I was pretty wasted myself but I had it under control.

Morning came with us all waking with crushing hangovers. We had lodged in the presidential suite of a nearby hotel where we all slept the sleep of the dead for less than three hours. Only Austin was missing. I had managed to retrieve the camera from him before he zoomed off to an unknown destination with Miss Jade. The camera was safely locked in the pigeon hole of my car. I and Tunde had our baths as quick as possible and dressed up in identical grey blazer suits, whites collarless shirts and black bow ties. Tunde had a strange look on his face.

“What’s the problem man?” I asked.

“I dunno o. My legs are shaking. I just realized I’m scared shitless!” I laughed out loud. My laughter awoke Kome who was just lazying about on the king size bed. Tuoyo was still quite dead.

“You should be though. Its not an easy step. The fear is good.” Kome said soothingly.

“And you’ve got an angel. So, its nothing more than pre-marital jitters.” I said.

“Thanks guys.” He said, a bit comforted after a few seconds of silence and deep thought. “I’ll be expecting you to man up with Christy soon though.”

“I hope I do. I certainly hope I do.” I said.

“And you…” He said to Kome as he straightened his tie in front of the mirror. “That your cousin Louis is sick. All that’s left for him is a pimp cup, a long perm and a Cadillac Coup Deville. He needs Jesus! Y’all need to get serious.”

We had a good laugh. Tuoyo awoke suddenly and was surprised to see us dressed.

“Where are we? How did I get here?” He asked confused.

“Hey man, how are you feeling? You were totally out last night?” Kome asked.
“Out is an understatement.” I said, laughing.

“Did I drive here last night?” He asked, still looking very confused. He held his head and winced softly.

“When you couldn’t even stand without support!” I said laughing.

“I drove you here.” Kome said.

“Thank God. Where’s Austin?” Tuoyo asked.

“He already on his way to church. Where we all should be in the next twenty minutes. Don’t be late guys.” Tunde said. More solemnly, he continued.

“Thanks guys…for last night. To think you all did all this for me…I feel…protected, appreciated.”

“You are a jolly good fellow. And so are we.” Kome said and we laughed again.

We left them behind and headed to church where they joined us later. The service was lengthy and I found myself struggling to stay awake. Amaka looked so lovely and resplendent in her long white gown. She looked every bit a queen with the silver tiara above her veil. She had a smile that described the joy that lay at the bottom of her heart. Tunde beamed with pride, his nuptial jitters long forgotten. Then I saw Kemi, the chief bridesmaid. She looked amazing as always in her pink gown as did the rest of the bridal train. I’d totally forgotten about her for some time now. We hadn’t crossed paths since that last time at Tunde’s place. Our eyes met for a second and she looked away quickly. Odd, I thought. I saw something in her eyes I couldn’t quite understand. Was that fear or shame? I let go of the thought and focused on Christy. She looked so lovely but there was something in her eyes; was that sadness? A gnawing worry crept into my heart but I suppressed it.

It was as the reception gradually came to a close that all hell broke lose. Tunde and his wife were locked in a tight embrace as they danced to the old school love songs the DJ played. I managed to tear myself away from the grooms men and went to meet Christy whom I had neglected for sometime because of the preparations and all. I had explained to her that it was going to be like that and she perfectly understood.

“Hey baby…” I said, pulling her up from where she sat. “Dance with me.”

She stood and came into my arms. She had this look on her face that I couldn’t figure out. She was stiff and distant and kept giving me monosyllabic replies. I imagined she was smarting from the neglect so I apologized again, promising to make it up to her.

“Really? You’ll make it up to me?!” She said, her voice suddenly rising.

I was stunned. She had never risen her voice up against me before.

“What’s the problem love?” I asked gently, feeling her anger build up. It scared the hell out of me.

“Oh, apart from a shameless boyfriend who cheats on me with my office colleague, my life’s just peachy!” She screamed as she shoved me away, tears flowing freely from her eyes.

Her voice was too loud, unbelievably loud! It pierced the sweet melody of the song ‘Last Night’ by AZ Yet that serenaded the small but lovely hall. The attention of the remaining guests and the newly weds focused on us both. I saw Kemi from the corner of my eye leave the guy she was dancing with and head for the rest room.

The cat was out of the bag. FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Malcolm.

Follow on twitter @saymalcolm

Addressing The Disconnect

By Arinze Ifi.

The general perception of political leadership in the Nigerian context is all but accurate. It has become a public office position to covet, to kill for and to die for. The politicians of our epoch seem to be grooming a certain “50-kobo” mentality of “get into office or die trying”. Could it be a function of their heightened spirit of patriotism, love for the underclass majority or a “thus saith the Lord” calling they poignantly feel they must answer to? We more than know the simple answer that would suffice.

At this point I’d like to assert that there is nothing like good leadership or bad leadership; leadership is leadership and whoever assumes the position without being able to manifest the relevant qualities the office demands is not a leader! One of the pertinent qualities of leadership is the ability to understand the needs of the people being governed and making adequate provision for such needs. In doing so, a political leader must compulsorily consider the direct and indirect impacts of his approach to tackling societal challenges on the short and long run. This leadership quality I will term reasonable consideration. Another irreplaceable quality of leadership is sacrifice. By this, a leader relegates his personal interests at the expense of holistic societal aspirations. Charisma is another essential quality that embodies the ability to appeal to the sensibilities of the people, the intelligent advocacy of the people in the larger (world) society and the ability to imbue hope in the hearts of many. Most Nigerian leaders of today are sorely lacking in these qualities from the number one office down to the last chain of delegation.

It’s a devastating irony when democracy, being a system of government that gives power to the people through their mandate and affords them basic human rights goes ahead to strip them bare of these powers and deny them the right to a “democratic lifestyle”. This paradox is well defined in the Nigerian political system, and unmistakably so when one observes the gross inequality that society breeds in all spheres of social activities. What we call a democratic government in Nigeria is really a dictatorial system riddled with laissez-faire styled leadership. This is the reason why godfatherism, mediocrity, high-handedness, corruption and mismanagement of resources blatantly thrive in the corridors of power. Democracy is an ideal system of government because it incorporates the opinions of the majority in governing the people. What’s more is there is an existing conduit of effective communication between the people and their selected leaders. Unfortunately the democracy of Nigeria is a political anomaly, thoroughly lacking in these traits!

Until very recently did the people of Nigeria realise the democratic power in their right to vote in public officers as opposed to having them chosen for, nay, imposed on them. This realisation has arguably paved the way for a new dawn in Nigeria’s polity. However, we still dance in political mediocrity seeing as the knowledge of our power to choose isn’t nearly enough to get us where we want to be. The failure of the GEJ-led government which has concurrently proved itself a radical misanthrope to the Nigerian majority is sufficient proof of this. Thus the power to choose doesn’t give us an edge if we make bad choices. This is where we find ourselves in entrapment simply because of uninformed choices.

Going from the daily occurrences in our political scenario there is an undeniable disconnect between the government and the people. It may seem that ascension to public office inevitably breaks the sync between the people and their (s)elected leaders, disillusioning the leaders from the realities of the society and the people therein (ask BRF). I guess it’s true what they say about absolute power; it corrupts absolutely! Therefore, there is the urgent need to address this disconnect to ensure effective delivery of the people’s democratic dividends. To challenge this disconnect, we must first learn from the mistakes of bad choices. Our choice of leadership should be based on antecedents, leadership qualities of reasonable consideration, charisma and sacrifice rather than nepotism, partisanship and emotional bias. The untimely fuel subsidy removal by the Federal Government and the okada ban by the Lagos State Government flaw their respective leadership on reasonable consideration. The Presidency’s ridiculous yearly budgetary feeding allocation and the outrageous emoluments of the legislators flaw their leadership on sacrifice. So does Rivers State governor’s junketing air-toy purchase at the wake of massive suffering of the people owing to the recent flooding. Decentralised system of government regardless, as far as leadership is concerned, the overall head is responsible for the body. Had a good majority of Nigerians looked at GEJ’s antecedents (or lack of it) prior to casting their votes, maybe, just maybe we would have been in a better Nigeria today…

Arinze Ifi is a guest writer for Malcolm’s Blog and occasionally rants on twitter as @iamXAri

The Bridge Over Turbulent Waters (III)

The midday sun was beginning to go down but the intensity of the unbearable heat that came with it still showed no signs of cooling off. The curtains were drawn and the louvres were wide open to allow fresh air into the tidy but sparsely furnished sitting room. Even the open sliding doors did not do much to quell the heat. The weakness of the breeze outside could not penetrate the layered mosquito-netting. The net was the only way to keep out the legendary Lagos mosquitoes which were at their most active as the evening descended slowly. The net carried out its function dutifully and in addition, kept out any cool air that attempted to come in.

The beautiful young lady that lay on the couch used a makeshift fan of hardcover paper to herself furiously. Power had been off for the past three days so there was no hope to power the air conditioner which would have offered comfort from the hellish weather. Her only hope was to wait till much later when it got darker to put on the power generator and make use of the standing fan. Fuel was a scarce commodity this period and quite expensive too as it could only be bought on the black market. So it was important the remnant be rationed wisely for when it was really needed. She had had a cold bath and had hoped to sleep for a bit after she finished making dinner for herself, her mom and Nene who helped at the shop but sleeping proved impossible. Flashes of that familiar nightmare kept coming up so she abandoned all thoughts of sleep. Her mind was in turmoil; she had been struggling for the past few minutes to read a novel but the unbearable heat wouldn’t let her. She was irritated and short tempered. Everything seemed to irritate her of late but she knew why.

Nkechi was a tough young lady and she knew it. She wasn’t sure if it was as a result of her Aries zodiac sign or some form of gene which was obviously recessive in her parents but she knew that “toughness” was in her blood, same as her sibling, Nnamdi. But where Nnamdi was impulsive, she was thoughtful. She had just turned 14 when word of her father’s unfortunate death came. She was paralyzed at first, but immediately swung into action consoling her mother who had become a miserable heap, rolling from side to side on the floor while screaming at the top of her lungs. Little Obiora, just nine years of age couldn’t really comprehend that daddy was gone and not coming back but he was so alarmed when he saw his mother cry so hard that he cried too. So did Nnamdi, when he returned from boarding school. Nkechi had the emotionally straining task of being the only fully functional person during that difficult period. The presence of other family members made it easier though. It was only in her private moments that she shed quiet tears.

It was when the vultures circled in to feast on her father’s properties that she eventually broke down. That was when Nnamdi took over. He was fierce in his defense of the family interest but he could only do so much as he was just 13 at the time. When Uncle Dike suggested after the burial, that they move into a rented apartment while the extended family decided on what to do with the house, Nnamdi surprised everyone when he ran into the house and re-appeared a few seconds after, brandishing a well-sharpened cutlass and chased his four uncles present out of the house. They never returned.

Nkechi wiped the sweat off her neck with her yellow face towel. The hard paper back was barely doing the job. She wondered where the plastic hand fan in the house was. She had searched everywhere for it. Had Rachel taken it again? That neighbour that would never keep her hands to herself. She sighed in exasperation. It was sometimes tough for her few friends to believe she was actually 16 for her mental ability resided on a much higher plane they were yet to attain. They often referred to her as “old woman” because she seldom made the mistakes most of the girl her age did. She reasoned for one beyond her age. She wasn’t carried away by the “girly” fads that rocked the world of her friends. It was currently the in-thing for her friends to have graduate workers, especially bankers, as boyfriends so they could show off gifts from shopping trips but not Nkechi. She’d never had a boyfriend all her life…except for that pretty half-cast boy with an adorable British accent. Clark was his name; he was her classmate in JSS 3 and she had a wild romantic relationship with him in her head (thanks to those foolish romantic novels she used to read). She went all out to let him know she liked him but he was shy and gentle. Shortly after JSSCE, he traveled back to England leaving her severely heartbroken.

The numerous advances she received from all kinds of men, both old and young didn’t faze her one bit. She had vowed to keep her virginity till she was married; a very old fashioned notion in today’s world that she steadfastly believed in, till the abominable happened. It all began with Emeka. Emeka was a handsome, polite, soft spoken and advanced in age compared to hers. He had this unconscious, easy going air of confidence that fascinated her. After several visits to her shop, she could hardly believe that he had not taken more than a perfunctory notice of her. It was unbelievable! She was so used to and almost bored with that look of adoration that crossed the face of almost every man she came across; but not Emeka. He never stole a second glance and the few times they spoke, he seemed totally impervious to her beauty and her charms. She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t paid her a single compliment or why she cared so much that he hadn’t! Her first reaction was to write him off as “gay” but deep down, she knew he was not. She wanted to figure him out so she became friendly with him and that turned out to be her undoing as she fell helplessly in love. She convinced her mum to make him her tutor when she found he was a sort of an intellectual genius and soon they were spending more time together than was necessary.

She was such a perfectionist with high standards and he seemed to be immune to the flaws she disliked. Even worse, he never gave out any signals of intimacy that may have developed between them as a result of proximity. He was always so polite and professional. Things continued until she could take it no longer. She defied her strict curfew to be with him in a different environment, rather than the charged one they were used to under the watchful eyes of her mother. She found out where he lived and paid him a surprise visit bearing a cooler of her very special cooking. His face lit up when the shock wore out and she saw a smile she had never seen before. It gave her hope; a hope that was dashed when he still wouldn’t make any move. She didn’t know what she expected but she was ready to accept anything. He crowned the evening with a kiss on her forehead; an act that infuriated her even more.

“That’s all I get? A kiss on my forehead? What the hell was that?” She fumed to herself later that evening.

She came had to come to terms with the fact that he considered her a little girl. A realization that angered her greatly. She made a decision to profess her love outrightly to him and the opportunity presented itself a few days after. Her mom had traveled with Nene to Onitsha on saturday morning to buy supplies for the shop and would be back on Monday. Coincidentally, so had Emeka’s cousin Obinna for work related reasons. Being home alone on saturday night, she thought to herself, why not give him a surprise? She prepared a fantastic meal and was on her way to his place that evening when it happened.

Her street was usually dark by 8pm but not usually this deserted but her mind took no notice. The walled compounds in the estate all vibrated with the all too familiar sounds of power plants and generators. So none of these “big” men had the good sense to install security lights to illuminate the street, she thought. Just tiny reflections of light from spaces between the gates and fences spilled onto the dark street, barely enough to light her way. She never felt any sense of ill or mishap. Her thoughts were filled with every possible fantasy as to how the evening was going to go when she heard fast approaching footsteps behind her. She turned and saw two men walking fast to catch up with her. In a flash, the stupidity of her intentions and rashness of her actions became glaring. What the hell was she doing perambulating the streets so late? She doubled her pace and so did they. She panicked and broke into a run. The game was up, she thought as their footsteps pounded the sand beneath them. She was going to get robbed. As she rounded a bend, they were upon her. When she opened her mouth to scream, she felt the hot sting of a slap from behind, numbing her right eye. She let an ear-piercing screamed as two sets of hands wrestled her to the ground but she couldn’t even hear the sound of her voice as it was muted by the sound of many generators. The cooler of fried rice and its condiments hit the ground and rolled into the putrid water-filled gutter. Her mind became blank as her survival instinct responded. She clawed at the right eye of the first assailant, feeling her sharp fingernails dig into his flesh just beneath the eye as she realized what was about to happen and he backed away as he grunted in pain. As she struggled to get back on her feet, now crying and screaming, very much aware of the danger she was in, she felt bright lights dance before her eyes as something metallic crashed on her head. She dropped to the ground in pain semi unconscious. She was dimly aware of the first assailant, his bleeding face becoming clear for a second as her eyes became used to the dark. He lifted her skirt and ripped her pants off and shook her off hands as she tried weakly to fight him off. She cried and pleaded in God’s name but it earned her another numbing slap as the guttural voice ordered her to be silent. She was aware of a heavy metal belt buckle that glinted in the dark with the name “Texas” drop to the ground and an unbelievable probing pain as her hymen broke before she passed out.

Her ringing phone shook her out of her reverie. She was sweating profusely now as her hands shook uncontrollably. A glance at the persistent ring on her phone showed her mother was on the line. She muted the ringing and closed her eyes in deep concentration and tried to will the evil images away. It was all that hounded her dreams every night since the incident. Now she was carrying the child of a criminal. But it was hers too, she reasoned. It was the reason for her sudden bouts of rage. She was torn. She was afraid of an abortion but she knew she didn’t want to keep this…over a month old abomination growing inside her. She massaged her stomach unconsciously. She had never imagined herself getting pregnant. She still had a long way to go in life. Worse still, she could feel a growing attachment, a bond. She had to do something soon before it weakened her resolve. No one would understand; not even her mother. Wouldn’t God understand why she had to kill this baby? The child would never be a gift but a constant reminder of her shame and a clog in the wheel of her future. But Emeka did. He always did, despite voicing divergent views. She longed for him, for his comforting words. Would he dare come this evening, especially as he was a wanted man? She hoped he would. She sincerely hoped he would.

Malcolm.

Follow on twitter @saymalcolm

When All That Is Left

When all that is left
Is a photo and a memory
We long for what was
The beautiful past that faded
From the physical to ephemeral
A flash that dances
With taunts in its springs
The future we once held dear
Dissolved into nothingness
A futile grasp at smoke
Memories and forgetfulness
Defining the fine line
Between elation and deflation
To have what is no more

Trapped in time
The images peer back
That smile that is forever
That outing that remained still
That love, forever unmatched
That bosom friendship
Fresh like yesterday
But long gone
The pride in father’s eyes
The unconditional support and belief
In mother’s eyes
The eternal defense of a sibling
That moment of pride and victory
Sweet youth, than ran after time

Forever a reminder
Of what was which is no more
A pain, but joy to have known
Scars, scabs and the new man
The tears in laughter
Untouchable visions of lessons
The essence of all things past
That live within
Rejuvenated by thoughts so dear
Forever transmitted from heart to heart
Lips to lips and song to song
But as fleeting as they come

Malcolm.

Follow on twitter @saymalcolm