My Maxine (Fiction)

My Maxine 

​​“Grandpa, what do you regret the most about the war?” 

​​It is always the same question for Maxine. She makes her way across the room. Her old rag doll drags on the grey vinyl tile that I have grown accustomed to at the hospital. I stop rocking my chair, fold my newspaper and tuck it beside me. Maxine climbs into my lap. The sun is setting and its lazy rays warm up her face. At the age of eight, she looks nothing like me or her mother or father. Her eyes are bright and alive, inquisitive. Hungry. The brown in them seems to lighten every time I see her. 

​​She visits a few times a year, sometimes for weeks, other times a few days. Usually whenever I am plagued with old man problems, she visits.

​​“I regret many things, little girl.”

​​“What is the biggest one?”The doll sits on my other lap, staring into space out of its mismatched button eyes. 

​​​I clear my throat.

​​“How about I read you a cartoon from the newspaper,” I cheer, reaching once again for the paper, “I saw a funny clip…”

​​“Oh I love cartoons!”She squealed.

​​“I know you do. Do you still make those lovely paintings?”

​​She is quiet.

​​“I don't paint, Grandpa.”

​​“Yes, you do. I have some of them on my wall.”

​​She leans into me and wraps her arms around my neck. 

​​I look at the wall. There are newspaper clippings, many from the war and post-war efforts, some relevant documentation of gurella operations, some were stamped classified. There are also photographs of people.

​​Ah, Colonel Akpan, old boy. He commanded the raid of Dauji forest, trapping the insurgents in the largest wild fire. Smoked them out like skittering mice. General Luke-Marcus, a bonafide cheat at Ludo and an excellent marksman. 

​​​​Ms. Laide Lucy was a nurse at our base, excellent comrade, an unparalleled distraction. Fola Olaolu. Mide Collin. Those were the days. Then the paintings. Two dozen sheets of paper were tacked haphazardly all over the wall. Abstract paintings of gentle green brush strokes tinged with a subtle crimson. They are the same painting; careless and free as though  a child purposed to fill the page then reverted to the whimsical. 

​​“Grandpa, what was the most memorable part of the war?”

​​I sigh again.

​​I am exhausted. Sleep has escaped me for weeks now. More now that I started flushing the pills down the toilet.

​​The doctors would not leave me the hell alone. They poke and prod. Of course you'd find things in an old man's body if you keep snooping. 

​​Yet again, they have scheduled another surgery.

​​“Grandpa?” She places her head on my chest. She smells of detergent.

​​​​I am tired and so I answer her.

​​”The Lawrije river massacre.”

​​She looks up at me, her expression blank. Her eyes drop to the buttons on my tunic. She picks at them and running her finger along their curved edges. Her doll now is looking up at me with its button eyes.

​​“A river?” She says, “That must have been beautiful.”

​​“Please.” I appeal to her.

​​“The river is one of the cleanest in the area I hear! There is a love song written about it.” She begins to sing.

​​“Please, Maxine. Not now.”

​​Her voice rings out.

​​​​“Where do we find food?

​​At the river, at the river,

​​Where is our hope?

​​At the river, at the river,

​​Lovers hands entwined, 

​​At the bottom of the river,

​​When will this suffering end 

​​At the river, at the river…”

​​​​I scream and throw her off me. Her head hits the wall with a thud and she crumples to the floor like her rag doll. 

​​Someone is screaming. I am screaming. More voices scream. I squeeze my eyes shut.

​​“No,” I whisper, “Please.”

​​The Lawrije river is a gentle green.

​​Screams are coming from the river. It is people from the nearby settlement. It is no wonder rebels would hide in their midst. They were an unassuming group. The sound of ammunition rains, hitting flesh and water in a crisp tut-tut-ting harmony. The people of the settlement with the traitors in their midst fall into the river. 

​​Maxine is back beside me. She is singing. 

​​I dig in my pocket and find it. My switch blade flicks open at release.

​​“Where will we find the people?”She is singing,”At the bottom of the river.”

​​The nurses are here now.

​​“General? Sir? It's ok.” Someone is saying.

​​“Sir, please put down the knife.”

​​​​The singing is grating on my ears.

​​I charge and jab, but hands restrain me.

​​Security men burst into the room. 

​​More hands.

​​I am shivering.

​​“It is my Maxine. Please call her parents.” I tell the nurse.”My grand daughter. She is over there. Please. She will be alone. She is afraid.”

​​Maxine does not seem afraid. She is singing.

​​“He is seeing the girl again,” a voice says.

​​“Sir, there is no one here.”

​​“Maxine!” I scream. 

​​Maxine is singing about the lovers at the bottom of the river. She won't stop. 

​​“I need 500 milligrams of ketamine. Quick.” A voice snaps. 

​​There is a pinch in my thigh.

​​I feel the push of the drug into my body. The knife falls out of my hand.

​​I remember Maxine. 

​​Though that is not her name. She is the little girl from the Lawrije river. 

​​​​She stands tucked between a man and a woman, holding a large rag doll with huge button eyes. They are at the edge of the water. The little girl is left standing when the bullets hit her parents. She looks at me. It is as though we take a deep breath together. The bullet throws her back into the water. The green water runs red.

​​The screams are distant. I am distant. Far away.

​​Voices are speaking. I see her unclearly now. She is next to me.

​​“See you soon, Grandpa.”

​​The room seems to breathe easy.

​​“Get him some sheets of paper and watercolor. He likes to paint when he comes around. Green and red paint…or crimson as he calls it. Yeah, green and crimson,” The nurse is speaking to someone.

​​“See you soon.” Maxine whispers.

​​My world is quiet.

​​Written by Ike Adegboye 

​​For Maxine.

Twice Dead: A Short Story by Ike Adegboye

Twice Dead

1832

Ede, Osun State,  Nigeria

On this bright and sunny day— the day of my daughter’s wedding— we dance. Yet, the dead watch us. This morning, I had awakened to the complaints of bleating goats and to the clumps of cattle hoofs. Out in the soft morning light they stood, a sea of livestock. More gifts from Alao. A dowry fit for three queens. In the corner of my hut sits rolls of fabric cascading over each other, the prints embossed with delicate gold dust from markets across the Northern desert. But also in the wake of the morning, the dead whisper dark secrets that make my skin tingle. The tendrils of fear slither up my back like a panicked gecko, for on the outskirts of Ede, along the narrow village path, lays the body. Already, the dust winds from the desert settles over him, the dew of the dawn wears him a damp coat and the birds of the air find in him their meal of the morning. Yet today, we dance.

Something nudges me in my ribs. I hear the sounds of the talking drums. They are distant, like I am beneath the waters of the river— their voices, muffled, yet speaking. I feel the nudge again. The drum speaks. Another nudge. I am inconvenienced out of my reverie. It’s my friend, Aduke, sticking her elbow in my side. Her dark face is beaded with sweat, her teeth bare, and from her mouth shrills the songs of the friends of the Iya Iyawo*. She dances like a young girl of eighteen rain seasons, flirts with the drummers with the sway of her hips and winking eyes. She nudges me once more, and yells into my ear, “It is abominable to dance harder than the mother of the bride.” Her sharp eyes squint. Behind her is Feyike, Miliki, Remi, Dara, Riyike, Fali, Omodun and their sisters. My friends. My well-wishers.“Ore mi, it is your day!” Aduke yells. Her eyes pause with knowing. I feel the cold wash of fear once more. She throws her hip out, her foot follows. The drummers follow the cadence of her rhythm.

Today, we dance to the sorrow of my child as the talking drums echo in the town square.

Now I hear them, clear and crisp—speaking blessings and goodwill over my precious child and her husband as they dance to the beat.

Will she be happy? No, she will not be.

Was this a mistake? Yes, it was. But every mistake—as all unhappiness— is lightened by the distraction of comfort. A new fabric here, some corals and glass beads there, a full belly at night, a barrel full of palm wine and the giggles of an infant will dull the aches of Alao’s blows. I watch my daughter’s tired frame twist and sway to the beat, surrounded by her friends— young ladies with youthful thighs and narrow hips. She had never been much of a dancer. But today, her heart is absent and her dancing is terrible. Does she weep beneath that veil? Yes, but it will be dried by a silk cloth from the markets of Arabah.

It was dawn before the pigments and healing herbs dried over her wound. The women stayed up all night mending the gashes of Alao’s wrath on my baby’s cheek. She should have known better than to run off with the musician. By the time Alao found them on the outskirts of town, the gods could not restrain him. By now, the birds would have begun their feast on the bald-headed singer, digging their claws into his dark flesh. I shivered thinking of it. But whoever heard of the daughter of Lasisi Olamuwonre Omo Baba Ire, whose ancestor was the great hunter, Timi Agbale, running off with a court jester, a performer—without a dowry. While the fool waited on the side of the narrow village path, we did it swiftly—Aduke and I. He knew not what hit him, at the swat of a bat’s wing, the heavy mill stone hit him from the branches above. His lover—my daughter met us there, standing over the imposter, his head bashed in. The blood soaked into the loose-grain sand that formed the village path. She fell on his lifeless body and cried, and there, Alao met us. He had me to thank. He did, lying face down on the ground in a humble prostrate. I blessed him and he rose to his feet. Still, she wept over the dead singer. Alao breathed a deep sigh of relief, the folds on the back of his neck running over each other like mounds of amala piled high, he carefully made his way to her. Bone crunched as his fist knocked her off the dead man. His leathered foot kicked her face. My eye twitched. My foot moved of its own accord. Aduke held me back.“The dowry has been paid”, She reminded me in a whisper. “Today, we will weep”, She added, as Alao tore the clothes off my child. Her screams rended something deep in my chest, “But tomorrow we will dance.” She was right.

Today, we danced. She is a married woman now. The dowry has indeed been paid. A dowry of three brides, no—three queens, for Ajoke mi. Goats. Cows—at least one for every day of the week until the next two full moons, sacks of cassava, palm kernels. The yams were piled high, the barrels of palm oil would last us till their first child was walking, and the mounds of kola nuts made her father lose his breath, the cascade of beautiful fabrics made me lose mine. It was time for her to go. She kneels and the crowd parts. I trace my steps to her with unsure feet. She swims in my gaze, the tears warm against my cheek. Mothers look on, gazing with envy as I take these measured steps.

I finally stand before her, and lift the veil from her eyes. The girl before me isn’t my precious daughter. Her eyes are swollen, the skin above her left brow and cheek dark and stretched raw by pigments and healing herbs, her lips are twice the size of a crinkled pepper, twice as red.

Indeed, my daughter is dead. Her corpse lies beside that of the singer on the narrow village path.

As I bless her as a new wife, she weeps. It is a blessing she takes to her new death— into her new home—a cage, a coffin— embellished with fresh flowers and sprinkles of new spice, laced with the silks of Arabah, beads and corals, goads of palm wine and all comfort. She thanks me. The crowds close in on the space between us. My girl is gone. Her friends sing after her. My friends rejoice. Yes, the dead watch us closely as we dance, but the one who dances among her friends—whose dowry makes queens jealous— is the one who is twice dead.

The End 

Copyright ©2018 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Love Bite: Entry #6

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character.

Love Bite #Entry 6

A feeling gnawed at me—the strange feeling that the day would end in chaos or at least end in a state akin. I had deleted the video from Leke’s phone. The pastors were on their way.

Why were they coming? 

I brushed the thought away and buried myself in a burst of activity in the kitchen. I sailed from the cooker to the fridge, to my spice cabinet, and back to the cooker. They would arrive any minute now. The red stew spluttered over fried beef, the plantain sizzled in an old dark pan and the white rice steamed quietly. I tilted the cover off a large pot of vegetable that cooled on the kitchen counter and hurried back to chopping the onions, my knife knocking swiftly against the chopping board. The frenzy took my mind off the reason for the visit but still my heart beat to the sound of the chopping knife. Had the pastors seen the video? It was grounds for dismissal surely. 

Was Ngozi the person at the window that night? Where was Jare? 

What did this mean for my Leke and I?

I poured the onions into the stew and turned the flame off. I had to end it all.

Ernest, the gateman bowed as I slipped out of our gate to house number 25. The towering dark gate was so familiar, yet so alien.

The gate man opened the gate, after glancing at me through the peephole in the gate. He had no snide remarks or nasty looks today. His melancholy was comforting. He held the the gate open and he grunted when I asked if Ngozi was home. 

When I knocked on the door, the help, Marie, opened it and ushered me to the living room. In less than 5 minutes, Ngozi walked in. She had changed from her outfit from earlier into a shirt dress that showed off endless legs. Her soft smile was gone. Her strut a little angry, yet lagged a bit as if she was tired.

“Hello, Lani. How are you? I've had the most terrible day.”She made her way to me.

I was on my feet and planked stiffly into her embrace. 

“How was yours?”She asked.

“It was ok.”I answered.

"That promotion come through yet.”

The image of Tayo, Niran and Dami flashed through my mind, "No. Not yet.”

"I can put in a word with Niran if you’d like…” Her voice faded into the background and her lips moved quickly, her eyes concerned, fixed on me. 

Lani, just tell her. 

Her voice came back to the surface.

“It's like all hell broke loose today, you know. The PTA meeting was dead-boring. My spa attendant…I own a spa…Aquatia…you know it?”

I shook my head.

“My attendant was run over by a cab on her way to work. We had a flat on the way to the hospital. The poor darling broke her femur. Of course, Jare showed up early from his trip. That was a blessing.” Her cheeks rose in a toothy smile.

My ears perked up. Jare was back.

She continued,“The gateman won't stop sending Marie to me about some important information he has about an incident that happened the other night…”

The gateman…his dark, scowling face flashed through my mind.

I had to tell her. Myself.  I heard my throat swallow.

“Ngozi…we have only just met, but there's something…”

“Babe…”Jare walked into the room and stopped short. My heart skipped a beat and I hated myself for it. He wore a black linen shirt folded at his elbows and above that, his sculpted arms bulged against the fabric. Tall. Eyes I had gotten lost in too many times. Yes, I hated myself for it.

“There he is,”She said. Jare hadn't taken his eyes off me, frozen on the spot. His perfume rushed at me, with the gust from the AC. 

“Oh, darling. This is Lani. She lives up the street. I don’t think you’ve met—.”

”We have”, I cut in. Jare’s eyes widened.

”You have?” Ngozi looked from me to him, a slackened smile on her face.

”Yes, at the gym.”I said,”Ngozi, about why I’m here—“

“Ngozi” Jare recovered,”A quick word?” He looked at me like I was a plague that had come into his home. His arm circled around her waist, guiding her out of the room. 

It cut deep, the way he held her and seemed to protect her from the bad news which would be me. 

“One minute.” She excused herself, as Jare hastily led her out of the room . 

Marie popped her head into the room, "Madam, your gateman, Ernest, say your guests don arrive in your house.”

The pastors were here. I looked into the corridor for Ngozi and Jare but they had vanished. I stood an extra thirty seconds and slipped out their front door. The gateman was outside, sitting on the far end of his bench, peeling an orange with a broken razor blade.

I shoved a wad of money into the hand that held the blade. He looked up. 

“Please. Who was it?” I begged. Who was here that night?” He continued peeling. 

He started singing a song in Yoruba which I didn’t understand as he peeled his orange. Both eyebrows raised, and forehead furrowed, he continued singing, and seemed to relish every word and note of his song, not failing to stress some words mockingly. 

Agbèrè. What did that mean? Ìyàwó Agbèrè.

"I came here to tell Ngozi myself." My tone was steel. He looked up. "I will make sure you lose your job. You knew your oga was bringing me into the compound at night, abi? With her and the children in the house?”

“You will lose your job. We are all going down together.” I touched my finger to my tongue and pointed to the sky. He had stopped peeling and singing. Now he just stared at me like he had seen a ghost.

My phone vibrated. Leke was calling.

“I’m coming back tomorrow. You better know who it was by then.” I snatched the money off his bench.

"Ahn! Madam wait now—"

He jumped off his bench. 

I swung the gate open and hurried to my house. At the gate Earnest was letting in the pastors, Pastor Linny, Pastor Kore and Pastor Remi. I stepped in quickly after them. They turned around, their faces serious. Pastor Linny’s face lit up with a smile. The others weren’t as delightful.

I was sure now why they were here. 

“Sis Lani.”The senior pastor, Pastor Remi smiled. I saw more in the smile. It was a gentle and pious—a smile of grace. Was that disappointment I saw hidden in that smile? Was it regret?

“Leke is a real hardworker”, I blurted, “He’s hardly home… always at church sites. He’s diligent…” My heart was beating wildly. I couldn’t catch my breath. “I'm not the most supportive wife...and I get lonely.” The tears began to stream down my face,”I get lonely… Please don’t fire him.’ Pastor Linny stepped forward, her arm around my heaving shoulders. I completely melted under her touch. All the tension and lies, the aches and fear, the guilt, the shame, they came undone as I sank to the floor. “The videos are enough shame for him…Please don't fire him.”

The pastors stared at me. 

“What videos?” Pastor Remi asked, “We came to talk to Leke about heading the new church branch opening up in Victoria Island. He has served under me for five years now. It’s about time.”

Pastor Kore, the pastor with the tufty afro spoke “Although, if you do have any pressing information that may adversely affect this new role…this will be your best time to speak.” He looked like a slender toadstool with a generous black top.

“Also, if you know you have family pickles to get through, we don’t need to know them,”Pastor Remi spoke, cutting into Pastor Kore’s haughty tone.

Pastor Remi stepped forward and held my shoulder, his voice dropped to a whisper,”Clearly, something is going on.”His eyes looked into mine. A quiet calm resonated in them. "Deal with the problem. We will come back another day.”

“Once you sort this out, we will reconvene and reconsider.”

“I…”My voice trailed off. Leke appeared at the front door, jogging to where we stood, his eyes wide and his nervous grin across his face. Saliva pushed against the knot in my throat.

I knew the day would end badly. The feeling had tugged at me all day. I had just destroyed all my husband had worked for five years. I had threatened a gateman's livelihood and almost ruined someone's marriage. But the feeling persisted still.

The day was about to get worse. 

Entry #7 out next week!

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Love Bite: Entry #5

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 5

I pulled up at Jade Towers at about 10.30am. I imagined the video playing on the wall of every conference room—team leaders talking everyone through the happenings as jaws dropped. I bounded up the bush-hedge lined drive way, my wig shifting with each stride. I rode the elevator to the 6th floor. When I stepped out, a few bored looks swung my way and went back to their work. 

Quickly I typed into my phone.

💬Me: Abby. I’m here. How bad is it?

💬Abby: Be out soon. In meeting. 

I walked towards the conference rooms and peeped in through the glass walls. There were no videos on the wall. I let out my held breath. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. I could relax. 

Voices interrupted my thoughts. 

“Na Pastor wife o!” A voice said. It came from around the corner.

“That’s messed up, men.” It was Etim from Sales.

“I heard the video bad gan o. All those pastor-wife.” Another voice hissed.

“You haven't even seen it.” Another hissed, “Abeg who has seen it? Give me correct gist.”

"Kai. She don spoil her life finish.”

My heart sank.

My eye caught a movement from my left side. Tayo. She approached. She threw her waist long braids over her shoulder and ran her bulgy wing-tipped eyes over me. I hissed and stared into my phone. The leech had been trying to steal my project for a while now, I was sure she was glad with this mess. She paused for a brief moment in front of me. I looked up, she looked like she was going to say something, but then the corner of her mouth tipped in a small smile and she walked past me. 

Idiot.

Abby met me in front of the conference rooms and pulled me into an empty one.“Only a hand full of people have seen it. Everyone on your team. Niran had it contained.”

“But everyone knows about it…”I said.

“HR has seen it.” She continued, “It could have been worse.” 

Just then, Niran strode out if his office, sleeves rolled up and the first two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone. His eyes narrowed on me. 

“Lani. A word.” He said.

Abby rubbed my arm as I walked into Niran’s office. My entire team was in there, Andrew, Tola, Gbemi, Felicia, Sanmi, Foluke Alao and Foluke Candoyle. Dami Predo, the HR manager stood against the glass wall. One by one, they began to leave, careful not to catch my eye. Soon Dami Predo and Niran were left in the room. I closed the door. 

Niran spoke first, “What goes on in your personal life is your business. However, when it goes out of hand, as it has, and as we speak, and finds its way to your work life and impacts your productivity and the productivity of the team…well, that just won’t do.”

“Niran”,I started,”This will not stick, I promise—”

“I’m putting Tayo on your projects until you come back.”He cut in.

“Wait. No. Where am I going?”

“Take some time off. Get this all sorted.” Dami spoke, his bald head shone under the lights. He was about a foot shorter than Niran but thinner. He shoved one hand in his pocket, and with the other pushed his glasses up his nose.

“I don’t think we need to do this.” I said,”I can deal with this and it won’t impact my work.”

“I had Tayo moonlight your work. Too many errors in your data analysis. She can’t present that to Ivan in Marrakesh.” 

“She? Marrakesh is my project! She’s not presenting anything.”

“This isn’t the time for sentiments.”He threw his hands up,”We can’t lose this deal. Your data is off. You need—”

“Niran, Is this because of you and I?”I looked from Dami to Niran, “Because of the issues we had? Is that why you are doing this?”I was becoming desperate. Niran sat on the edge of his table and raised both brows.

“We aren’t doing anything.”Dami spoke,”We are asking you to lay low until it blows over. In a few days, someone else will do something crazy and eyes will be off you. It’s how it works.”

“The entire team has seen it. I don’t need them distracted now.” Niran said, “We are about to launch that project. Tayo has been in touch with Ivan in the region. She will head there in the coming weeks. If you care about this project at all, you’ll let her bring it home.”

The horror was naked on my face.

Niran ran his hand over his head, ”Deal with it. Quickly.” He got to his feet, in a few strides, he held open the door. Tears filled my eyes and both men swam in my gaze. 

Outside the door, Abby was there. She put her hand around me and led me to the elevator and into my car. 

I drove home as in a trance. I couldn't remember driving or even honking for Earnest. 

I’d tell Ngozi about it. Tonight. 

I couldn't bring myself to tell Leke myself. He had probably seen the video by now anyway.

Less than ten minutes after I sank into my bed, I heard the front door open. 11.30am, read the alarm clock on my bedside stand. Leke?

I got out of bed.

I held my breath. Had he gone into the office? Where was his phone?

He walked into the bedroom, his shoulders drooped. His jacket hung off his shoulder, his phone in his hand.

“Hey…why are you home?” My voice shook, “You went to the office already?” I took careful steps towards him. 

“How are you?” He asked, throwing his jacket on the bed. 

“Hmm?”My eyes on the phone.

“Your head was aching before I left.”

“Yes!”My hand lightly slapped my forehead,”I'm better.”

My eyes focused on him but the phone in his hand never left my sight.

“Pastor Remi asked me to go home for the day. He said there were somethings to be discussed among the other pastors. I don't know what. They have all been acting strange all morning.” He sat heavily in the armchair, placing the phone on its left arm.

“Really?”I asked, “What could it be?”

“They said a few of them may come over this evening.” He said,“Will you be home?”

“Of course”, I said, “I do have to have a quick chat with Ngozi down the road.”

“Ngozi? Who’s Ngozi?”

“The neighbor in 25.”

He shrugged.

“Please try to be here.” His brows furrowed in worry, “If they fire me…I don't know what I'd do.” I walked to him and sat on the arm of the chair, gathering him into my arms.

“Don’t talk like that. God called you to this. You mustn’t talk like that.” He leaned his head against my breasts and sighed, as I rocked him gently. My fingers found his phone. He had 2,436 unread emails and 160 unread messages. I scrolled through quickly. There it was, the video. Unopened. I pressed down to delete. 

I swallowed as the message disappeared.  “It would be alright.” I whispered as I rocked him and stroked his head, “It’ll be alright.”

But I knew it wouldn’t. 

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #6 out soon!

Love Bite: #Entry 4

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 4

I waited for the storm, but it never came.

Leke came home, a tired smile on his face as usual. He asked about my day. I had nothing to say. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and the dryness tickled my throat. He smiled, planted a kiss on my forehead and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

Once the water started running, I scrambled into the room, searching through his discarded clothes. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t under the bed either or in the wardrobe.

Where was it?

”What are you looking for?”

I turned to look at my husband, a towel around his waist, droplets of water scattered over his dark chest.

“Nothing. Err…looking to see if your clothes need to be washed. Isaac is coming this weekend.”

"Oh. I actually need him to starch my white native.” He turned on his heel and headed back into the bathroom. I started searching again.

“I’ll text him later tonight.” I said,”Or better yet I’ll text him now. Can I use your phone?”

“I think I forgot my phone at church.”

I stopped searching and cursed under my breath.

”Oh no! You don’t think we should head out and get it?” I called out towards the bathroom.

"No, it’s locked in my office. No one can get in.”

I had to get that phone. I could sneak in tonight.

”I hope you didn’t leave your keys lying around.”

”Lani. That phone needs aburo, I don’t think it’s a thief’s dream come true.” He chuckled.

“Where are your keys though?”

”With Pastor Remi. He needed the keys to the storage room. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

Snap.

A video of his wife moaning and panting with a stranger…The images stayed in my mind all night.

I thought about breaking into Pastor Remi’s house and into the church office. There had to be an easier way. I stayed awake all night, waiting for the morning, watching our ceiling fan blades cut through the air until they were invisible. Leke slept like a babe, his breathing heavy with an occasional snort.

For me, sleep had been elusive and it was beginning to tell. I had to get to the bottom of this. Jare was still away. I knew it was his wife. It had to be. If anyone knew it had to be the gateman.

I had to make him talk.

My eyes were wide open at 4:30 when Leke got up to pray, at 5.30 when he went into the bathroom, at 6.30 when he settled into the desk and chair in the corner to study his bible.

“Lani? You’ll be late if you don’t get up now.”He said. It was 7.30.

”I’m not feeling well. I’ll call in.”I mumbled.

”What’s wrong?”He got out of the chair. "Maybe a little Leke is in there?” He jested.

I smiled weakly. Not unless we had had sex in the last three months and I wasn’t aware.

He made me a quick breakfast of fried omelette and toast bread with a glass of juice for me. It made me smile.

“I’ll head to the other church branch first. I won’t be at work until about noon, so you might be unable to reach me ok?” He rested his palm on my forehead and said a little prayer.

“It is well, ok?” He said, as he threw on his blazer, and patted my scarfed head.

The moment he stepped out, I took a quick shower.

I’d go to his office before noon, wait for him to arrive and delete the message his phone. For now, I need to know what happened that night.

Jare’s gateman had to know who it was. He was the only one in the compound that night. I threw on a pair of jeans and a navy boat-neck blouse, shoved my feet into a pair of brown leather slippers and headed out. Ahead, Earnest was talking to someone through the opened gate. He stepped aside, and there was Jare’s wife, Ngozi. She towered over Earnest in her heels, she was dressed in army green pixie crop pants and a white t-shirt. A hand bag in the crook of her arm. Her slender face, half covered by long, full head of extensions and her round-framed sunglasses.

“Hello, Lani.”Her tone was sweet and cheerful.

I had stopped in my tracks.

“I was on my way out and I thought to say Hello. I have a PTA meeting.”

She looked like she was in a weekend relax day photo shoot.

“Hello.”I managed to say, my feet unwillingly walking forward.

“Would you like to meet up later at my place? Jay should be back much later but I’m sure we can fit in some girl time and chatter in the evening?”

I nodded,“Yes. Of course.” My voice tried in vain to echo the panache in hers.

“See you later.”

I waited until her car drove off and I walked briskly to her house and tapped on the gate. Ajibade opened the peep hole, his eyes hardened.

“Wetin you want?”

“Open gate. I wan ask you something.”

“No. Madam no dey. Oga no dey. I no fit open gate.”

“Ok.” I tried to peep past his head to see if any one else was there. His eyes cautioned me.

“Ok. You know that night. Last time…the night wey your oga…and me….who dey hold torchlight?”

He blinked a few times.

“I no know. Maybe na God catch una.” I caught the peephole cover as he began to close it.

“Just tell me. How much you want?” He looked at me.

Just then my phone buzzed in my back pocket.

“Just tell me how much you want?” I said to the gateman.

“How much den pay Judas?” He asked,”Which money you wan give me?” The hole disappeared.

I kept knocking, my phone kept buzzing.I heard his voice through the gate.

“I get your type for house. Dey sleep with landlord. She think say I no know. Na God go catch una. All of you together.”

“Hello.”I said into the phone, pinning it to my cheek with my shoulder. I was prepared to stand here all day. I reached into my pocket and counted ten notes of the thousand naira bill, 

“Babe,”Abby’s voice was urgent,”Come here fast. The video leaked at the office.”

The loose bills fell out of my hand and rained on the pavement below.   

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #5 out soon!

Love Bite: Entry #3

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 3

I met Jare at Fitness and Soul—the new neighborhood gym. It was a Tuesday evening, a day before Leke and I would mark our fourth year anniversary. I had walked into Fitness and Soul for the first time, completed my registration forms, received my free heart rate monitor and paid an exorbitant fee. The heart rate monitor wasn’t so free after all.

It was 5PM. Leke would be home in five hours. I figured I could pass time; and maybe Leke could join the gym soon. Maybe. Or maybe not.

The gym floor was crammed with treadmills, bench presses, sweaty enthusiasts and a few people like me loitering and clueless. Colorful water bottles dotted the room; towels dangled around necks; rap music blared from invincible speakers above the purring of equipment and the whirring of the ceiling fans. A muted TV showed the news and another showed the E! Channel. I decided on an equipment that looked like an escalator. My thighs started burning almost immediately, my heart fighting not to fall out of my chest. When I was sure my calves would fall out under my knees, I got off the machine. Panting and out of breath, I checked my watch. 6 minutes—that would have to do.

Weights sat on a rack in front of a wall-long mirror. I willed myself to them and the mirror.

I smiled at my reflection. My body was perfectly curved, though slightly hidden, under my large tank top, I could see the exaggerated outline of an hourglass—I had worn my tummy trainer, like Abby told me to, clinching my waist so tightly that my hips got stared at—by the girl next to me, who dipped every other second in squats, and by the two men near the bicycles.

After a few half-hearted weight lifts, I headed to the showers. 15 minutes at the gym. We all have to start somewhere.

It was a long walk across the floor, past the treadmills, past the men at the bicycles, around the glass screens and the group in yoga. From my pocket, I drew out my phone, scrolling mindlessly past photos, memes and videos on IG. Once I was out of sight, Ipushed into the Women's shower room, eyes still on my screen. The steam colored everything white and for a moment I looked up, away from my phone. The sounds of showers and splashing water echoed. Out of a stall stepped a figure. Once the haze cleared, I realized I was staring at a man. He had nothing on, except drops and streams of water which trickled down his body.

At my scream, he dropped the towel he had reached for.

“What are you doing in here?!” I yelled.

He turned to face me, he shrugged, and shook his head, like I had the answer to my question. 

“This is the men's shower?”He finally said,“It says so on the door.”

I stood rooted. In shock because he was talking to me very, very naked and because he seemed to be right—another man walked past behind him into a stall.

“I’m sorry—”I stammered, my palm covering my eyes and my feet back pedaling out the door. Outside, the door surely read Men's shower.

How did I miss that?

I stumbled through the door of the women's room, checking twice that it read“Women”. After a quick shower, I changed into leggings and a t-shirt, clasped my clincher around my waist, grabbed my gym bag and walked straight out of the gym, my feet swift and my eyes forward.

How did I walk into the men's room? Abby was going to pass out from laughing when she heard. The road was busy with commuters making their way home and other road users who avoided heir inevitable Lagos traffic through back roads.

From the corner of my eye, I saw acar slow down beside me, the heat from its engine sweeping around my calves.

Oh no.

“Would you like a ride?” Thank God he had clothes on now.

Just keep walking, Lani.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

I kept my gaze ahead.

The car crawled beside me. Other cars blared their horns behind him.

“Ok. I forgive you.”He said above the ruckus.

I stopped in my tracks.“For what?”

There was mirth in his voice and his face was smiling,”For walking in on me naked. Unannounced.”He shrugged.

The silver Honda behind let out a long, endless honk.

“Make this woman enter car!” A keke napep driver yelled.

“I'll accept your unoffered apology if you let me give you a ride.”He said.

“I live just a few streets away. You don’t have to.” I replied.

He continued“I live on Garrison street. It's not too far from here.”

“So do I!”

“Perfect. Get in, Neighbor! Then…"His smile, now a grin,"You can apologize.” His laugh made me smile. 

I hesitated. It was the quality in his voice. It stirred a caution in my mind.

“Come on in!”

I opened the door and sat in his bucket leather seats.

“My name is Jare.”He had a short beard, wide, expressive eyes and an easy smile.

“ I'm Lani”. He took my hand gently,  shaking it .“Nice to meet you” I added.

“The pleasure is mine.”

Something wasn't right. 

This was trouble.

I'd have to tell Leke about this gym "accident" and ride. We told each other everything, especially events like this-the ones termed "trouble". I couldn’t tell him a day to our anniversary. Maybe next week? He was preparing for the conference, maybe the week after.

It was the way he looked at me; the fact that was drowning in this heady fragrance and maybe I didn't want to stop drowning in it; it was his touch, it had the base of my palm pulsating and the tingle of it continued for a full minute. Oh yes, I had to tell Leke.

****** 

“Girl, I don’t know why you never told Leke since day one.”Abby tried to be still as she flicked her mascara wand through her lashes. We were in the restroom at work for the second time that day.

“There wasn’t a right time.”

“Really?”She stopped to look at me, brows raised,”Even when you guys started playing gym partners and going for dinners. Where was his wife, sef?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t talk about her.”

“What have you done about the video?”

“What do you want me to do?”I folded my arms and leaned against the wall,“Jare isn’t replying my messages.”

“You need to do something. You can’t wait around until he calls you.”

“I haven’t gotten any other messages. It’s probably that his wife.”

“Lani, you need to go home and fix it. Maybe talk to the gateman. Or tell Leke.”

“I can’t tell Leke. Are you crazy?”

“Just do something.” She said. The door swung open and Teresa from marketing walked into the rest room. I smiled at the unwelcome guest in the mirror and made my way back to the office floor.

I left Jade Towers at 3.15PM and waved down a napep. We made it home in good time, ahead of rush hour. I made my way to Jare’s house. It was sunny and the gate felt warm under my knuckles as I rapped on the metal.

Where are you, Jare?

The gateman’s eyes appeared in the peephole. His eyes translated from curiosity to perceived disdain.

“Well done”,I said,“Is your oga around?”

“Night never reach.”

There was silence.

I ignored his remark. I made a note to tell Jay about it.

“Is he or Madam around?”

The corners of his eyes creased in amusement.

“Madam dey.”

“I want to see her.”

He looked at me for a split second.

“Who make I say wan see am?”

He was having a pleasant time.

“Lani, from number 22.”

He disappeared.

When he arrived, he let me into the compound. My feet already led towards the side of the house.

“Na the main door madam visitor dey take. No be kòrò.”

I ignored him again.

The front door led to a brightly lit anteroom with paintings of flowers and sea ports on the longest wall. Two beige arm chairs sat against the wall, a coffee table in front of them. I waited.

A young woman walked in,“Madame will see you.” She led me past a few doors, I was careful not to walk too quickly in my court shoes on the gleaming marble floor.

We entered a living room. The floor sparkled with the lights and the cool air from the AC chilled the room with zeal. The smell of pines wafted from somewhere. On the cream colored sofa sat a woman—slender, dressed in a long, peach silk kaftan. her skin tone dark and even, beautiful full lips and a button of a nose. It was her eyes that pierced out at me, bright and bold they were. She had a quiet elegance, she sat with her back straight, neck high, ankles crossed, like a beauty queen would, when she wasn't in the spotlight.

I suddenly felt gritty and dumpy. My outfit felt ill-fitting and my three-day old twist outs seemed wilted in the light of her gleaming, waist-long wavy hair.

“Marie tells me you are from number 22? Our neighbor?” She rose to about 5”11, a few inches taller than me, her hand extended. Her English was polished, not forced or accented, but clear and refined.

I took her outstretched hand, searching her face for some recognition or malice. Nothing.

“Yes, my name is Lani.”

I waited for the name to ring a bell.

Nothing.

“My name is Ngozi.”

“I apologize. I have never met you before, it seems.” She continued.

“No.”I said.

How can I help you? Her eyes seemed to ask.

I blinked once, a second time.

“I…wanted”, I stammered,”I wanted to say hello. I figured I should know my neighbors a little more. I'm making rounds on the street. Getting to know everyone.” I nodded and smiled.

“Well, yes indeed. I really appreciate it.”Her smile lit up the room. She looked at my outfit,”It would seem you came straight from work? What do you do?”

“I work at Thetha Communications. I'm a product manager…senior product manager ...hopefully soon.”

“Are you up for a promotion?” Her eyes, kind.

I nodded,”I hope so. I've been there eight years now.”

“My husband, Jare, has a friend there, Niran Sanya, do you know him?”

My heart skipped a bit at the mention of his name.“I report to Niran! Small world.”

“It truly is.”She continued,”I don't have the thrill of the anticipation of a promotion. That must feel so gratifying when it happens.”

“What do you do?”I asked. She was difficult not to like. 

“Real Estate. It's a family habit. Dad bought and sold. Mum too. My siblings and I get our thrill from investing in where we know will be the next best thing in 20-30 years.”

We talked about houses and apartments in cities I had never heard of. The thought of the video on my phone burnt through my mind.

I had to say something.

I glanced at the photo of Jay and her and their two children.

Her bright eyes stared at me, curious and searching from the photo.

“How about your family?”

“Oh Jare is away for work. East Africa. He’ll be back soon."She said,"Maybe you'll meet him one of these days."

I nodded. He hadn't mentioned a trip.

“And your children.”

“On their way from school.”

I cleared my throat, "I have something I'd like to bring to your attention." My heart beat faster in my chest.

"The other night, I was at home when I saw a shadow outside my window with a flash light. My gateman said it wasn't him and it wasn't any of the other neighbor's in my building. In the morning nothing was missing. The presence of a stranger in my home, outside my window bothered me a lot.”

Her eyes were wide.

“Have you experienced this here at all?”I asked, clearing my throat again.

“No!" She said,”It's most unsettling. We should inform the estate committee and report this.”

I agreed. We talked about vigilantes, securities, safety and children.  She truly was a difficult person not to like, the pretty face, her pure maternal concerns, her throaty laugh and the way she made affluence seem common place and unimportant.

After a while I got to my feet, ready to leave. She walked me to the front door.“Don't worry about it, I'm sure your children will be fine."

“Thank you.”

She closed the door and as I walked to the gate, the gate man staring at me in silence, my phone vibrated. I stared into my screen. A new message. The large triangle over the video stared at me. The fear was cold and it washed over me in torrents until my hairs stood on end. My thumb quivered over my screen and my phone sat precariously in my clammy palms. I let out a breath and played. It was a 15 second video set in a loop, when I couldn't watch it anymore and I was sure the groans were forever embedded in my mind, I stopped it. Just then I noticed another recipient was listed, next to my number. 

+234805419555890

Leke's number. They had sent the video to Leke too.

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #4 out soon!

Love Bite: Entry #2

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 2

I held on to the headrest of the keke napep driver, as he fell into as many potholes he could wiggle us into. Another five minutes of this pothole-plunging, and I'd be at work. Every other minute, the woman who sat next to me--dressed in the ankara iro and buba, and a matching head-tie towering on her head in a messy, rushed do--would slap the headrest. “Slow down. Napep. Slow down."

The young man seated in front groaned in solidarity. I had hoped for a short nap in the napep.

"Ani, slow down!" The woman slapped the headrest again.

That nap was not to be. I stifled a yawn and let the tears tease out of my kajaled eyelids and mascaraed lashes, careful not to rub my eyes into a vampire eye make-up smudge. I had hardly slept a wink; and by the time Leke got into bed, I realized I was still awake. 

Someone had seen us.

Jare and I.

I tightened my grip on the headrest and my free hand poked my phone screen with its thumb. Calling JRK. Jare's phone rang out through my ear plugs. My ninth call. 

“We don reach.”  The driver called above the rumbling engine. His bony arms maneuvered the napep to a stop. 

I unfolded myself out of the three-wheeled wagon, paid the driver and proceeded towards the tall, blue glass building which was Jade Towers, and which housed on the sixth and seventh floor Theta Communications, my place of employment for the last eight years. Just then my phone buzzed in my bag.

My heart skipped a bit. Jare.

I breezed in through the gate, past the blue uniformed security men, said a quick hello to Gbemi at the front desk and a quicker one to Udoma whose cubicle was next to mine.

I dug out my phone. There were two messages. They had to be from Jare. Did he have any info on who saw us last night? 

Message 1

💬 GVMinistries: Halleluyah! Join us at Grace and Valour ministries for our annual church anniversary celebration on the 23rd of October at …

Delete.

Message 2

💬 Hubby: Babe, where is the stew?

I rolled my eyes and typed a quick response.

Me: In the fridge

As I typed, my phone vibrated. 

“Good morning.” The brief drop down summary showed.

I opened the message 

💬 Good morning.

Attached was a video. I plugged in my earplugs and dimmed my screen light by 60 per cent. At first I couldn't make anything out. There were dark shadows and forms. Then I saw my face. It was  twisted in pain…wait,no…pleasure. My jaw was slack and eyes shut. Jare’s hands held mine up against a wall. My legs wrapped around him. 

My eyes stung and breathing needed some effort. Someone had been watching us all along. They had recorded! I scrolled quickly to his number. At the sixth ring and hung up. I looked around, Abby wasn’t in her seat yet. I dialed her number. 

“Where are you?” 

“On my way in.”

I left my desk and hurried towards the entrance. Abby walked in, navy dress, yellow pumps, a brief case and a lunch bag. Her hair was held back in a loose ponytail. 

“What’s going on?” She asked. I grabbed her arm and led her into the restroom near the elevators.

“Someone saw us!” I whispered, when we got into the restroom. I caught the shift in my wig in the mirror but I couldn't care less. 

 Abigail placed her briefcase and lunch bag on the sink. 

 “Saw who?”

 “Jay and I.”

 Her hand flew to her open mouth. 

"No!”She whispered,”I thought you stopped. You told me you had stopped!”

I looked at her and then at the lights above the mirror. Her pretty face drawn with surprise and concern.

 “I didn’t.”I said,”We didn't.”

 Abby’s eyes blinked behind her Tom Ford reading glasses.

 “Someone saw us last night”, I shoved my phone into her hands. Her eyes widening with every second of play.

 “This is serious, Lani.” She said,”First, I'll never be able to unsee this. Second, is this person blackmailing you? Do you want to tell Leke? ” She handed the phone back.

 My hands began to shake, a slight tremble.

“ What will I do?”

“ You think it's his wife?”

“ I know it is,” I said, “She doesn't deserve him you know.”

Abby looked at me from the corner of her eyes, "Really, Lani? And you do?”

I brushed her remark aside.

 “He isn't picking my calls.”

"What about the number sending the videos", Abby took the phone from me and dialed the strange number on my phone.

“What are you doing?” My knees knocked.

 “Check the number and try again” a voice said.

“Find a way to talk to him. You have to. You have to find out who it is.”

Her pretty features lit up, "On a happier note, I heard Niran is talking to HR about making you project manager of the North Africa project. You'll be in Marakesh or Casablanca next year. Killing it!” She did a little dance with her hips.

A smile played on my lips, “Really?”

“Yeah, but Tayo is up for the position too.”The joy was short-lived. 

“And you know about Tayo and Niran, right?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“What about them?”I whispered back.

Her eyes widened and her brows rose.

“No!”

“Niran is a dog.”My voice low. “Isn’t he on probation with HR?”

“Because you didn’t welcome his advances, doesn’t mean Tayo shouldn’t.” She shrugged.

“Isn't he married?”

She gave me a look.

“You don't know what it's like.”I said.

“So Niran is a dog but you are the saint, who is boning her way through life in the BQ of her neighbor’s home, while his wife is at home and her husband is in bed?!”

“Leke is never in bed. He's never at home.”

“Sometimes he gets home at midnight. Sometimes he doesn't come home. He says it's the sacrifice of church planting.”

“This morning he got in at 5:30”

Abby tucked her hair behind her ear. Her arms crossed, her left brow arched. 

“He doesn't notice anything." I continued, "One Sunday, we left the house—he was driving— My wig was in place, by the time we got out of the car, it had gotten stuck on the coat holder as I got out of the car. Leke did not notice!” Abby doubled over, holding her belly, her laugh echoing in the restroom.”I had gotten to the church entrance when I saw myself in a glass pane wearing my nude wig cap.”A reluctant laugh bubbled inside me.

“Told you to show up at his church office one day, wearing nothing underneath.”She popped her hips,”He’ll notice that.”

“He shares the office. Thank you very much.”We both burst out laughing.

The heaviness in my heart returned. I sighed.

“Abby, what am I going to do?”

“We have to keep it contained. You need to talk with Jare. Find out if he found the person that night.”

---

I sat at my desk, unproductive. I responded to emails all day, trying Jay’s number every other hour. 

 By 3pm, my phone vibrated. A new message. A video clip. It was from a new number. It was a dark video. I tapped the large play button. My jaw fell open, my eyes large and my throat dry.

I stared at the screen in horror, at Jay and I on his pool table, moans muffled and distant, in the dark room behind his house.

 Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #3 out soon! 

Love Bite: Entry #1

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character. 

Love Bite #Entry 1

It had become my favorite place— lying beneath the beautiful, twinkling Lagos night sky, on the bonnet of my old Corolla, listening to the sounds of the city night. We lived on Garrison street, a small community tucked away in a matrix of Lagos Mainland residential neighborhoods.

In the yellow hue of the street lights, stood the magnificent houses of Garrison, most of them Georgian style with columns and towering gates of intricate detail and designs. 

We lived in the only two-bedroom apartment on the street and shared the building with three other families, each in their unit of the landlord's "four-flat".

In the distance, a horn honked, an odd bird cawed, and a wandering okada whirred into the night.  

Soon, everything seemed to fade out to the low rumble of static and music from Ernest’s radio, and to the delicate tink-tink-tink of the crazed insects slamming their bodies against the fluorescent tube above Ernest’s gatehouse, like drunken worshippers. 

I glanced at my phone sitting on the bonnet next to me. Its screen was still dark. I lit it up with a click.

Nothing new. 

It was 10:39pm.

My heart thumped against my chest. 

No rush, Lani. I took a deep breath and leaned my head on my windscreen, sure about the residue of the coconut oil and leave-in conditioner cloud from my twist-outs. A gentle breeze carried by, filling my maxi dress with its coolness and a few mosquitoes too.

After getting rid of the confused mosquitoes lost beneath my dress, my back rested against the windscreen and my gaze wandered to the neighbor's window across the street. 

The Salamis' window showed the lights from their TV bouncing off their ceiling. They were probably asleep on their sofa. I tried to keep my mind focused on the lights at the Salamis’. That didn’t work. My gaze turned to another window. The window of the house which shared a fence with the Salamis on the right. The windows were dark, except one; the upper window of the room on the left. Its curtains were drawn and warm light spewed from the edges. A familiar shadow glided across the curtains.

My phone lit up next to me. My fingers scrambled for it.

💬 J.R.K: Hey

A chill rippled down my back. My thumbs hovered over my keypad. I looked from my phone to the neighbors’ window and back again, staring into the blue light.  When I looked up again, the light had gone out. The darkness became intimate, my heart throbbed, my breath, deep and quick. 

💬 Me: Hey

I dropped the phone back in its place with a clatter— like it burnt my hands. 

A whole minute passed before my screen lit up again. I may have forgotten to breathe.

💬 J.R.K : Come over

I picked up my phone and slid off the slippery bonnet, willing my feet one pace at a time, one foot in front of the other. My chest ached and my heart beat wild and uncontrolled. I tapped on Ernest’s door. After a heartbeat, he stumbled outside his gatehouse, still groggy, one arm fought into a sleeve of his shirt, while the other searched for the gate keys in his trouser pocket, he dragged his feet in worn slippers with the prongs of his slippers between the wrong toes. 

“Well done, Ma.” He said, as he fiddled with the gate padlock. 

He held the gate open and I stepped into the yellow glow of the street lamps that lined Garrison street. The gate closed behind me.

Twenty long strides brought me to the gate of the neighbor’s home. It was tall and black, imposing and comforting all at once. 

💬 Me: here

In a few seconds, the pedestrian section in the big black gate opened without a creak and I slipped in. The gateman said nothing. 

His silence judged me. 

Why are you here? It seemed to say.

Again?

Do you not know Madam is in the house?

Aren’t you the wife of a holy man?

Such audacity!

But a gate man wouldn't know such a word and that was comforting. It wasn't anyone's business anyhow.

I slipped around the dark house to the backyard, keeping to the shadows of the wall and trees. In the distance, a dog barked and a silent generator rumbled ever so lightly.

The Boys’ Quarters in the backyard had two front doors, each leading into two separate rooms. I turned the knob on the first door, and stepped in, quiet as air. The familiar damp, dusty smell of the room tickled my nostril hairs. My pulse quickened and my heart pushed against my chest in steady throbs. The security lights streamed through the bare windows, lighting the path past the  large pool table. Just then, my phone screen lit up, like Christmas lights, its vibrations loud and incessant, like a fussy child. It fell out of my hand on the tiled floor in a loud clatter. I paused for a moment, frozen in the dark. When the stillness echoed, I picked it up and kept walking, past the bar and around the sofa, into the bedroom and into its en-suite bathroom. 

My hands felt for the cool ceramic sink and my right hand found the tap. The cool water on my face seemed to calm me. I exhaled, blowing drops of water on my darkened reflection in the mirror.

Deep breath, Lani.

The water was still trickling in a silent stream, when the front door opened. 

I stopped, my eyes wide in the dark. Faint footsteps approached the bedroom. I didn't move. My breath quickened and I heard my heart beat in my ears. He appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. Jare. He was here. His silhouette against the filtered light was dark and tall. He stepped into the small bathroom, surrounding me with his fresh masculine fragrance. I was lost in its haze.  His arm drew me into himself. His lips found mine. He tasted sweet, like a fruit.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispered.

His breathing heavy and fast. His lips traced my neck. His hands lost under the train of my dress, pushing and lifting.

He lifted me unto the bathroom sink, my bare thighs tingling against the sink. I had just wrapped my legs around him, when a quick flash of light shone through the bathroom window. 

We jerked apart, but my legs still hung on his waist. His hands hidden in the cascade of my dress.

We froze in its glare, like two deer.

There was silence. 

The light swung by again, then steadied, boring in through the closed window, straight at us. The light bearer seemed to take in the moment, as we squinted into the light. Suddenly it went off.

“You need to go.”Jare said. He lifted me off the sink.

“No…” I protested, struggling against him.

“This isn't the time. Just go.” He whispered, his voice husky and firm. 

We stumbled through the living area, tripping over my maxi dress twice. The door swung open, we burst into the compound, keeping to the shadows until we got to the gate. 

“Ajibade” Jare whispered, his voice frayed with urgency. He called his gateman again. The gatehouse was still and quiet, as the rest of the house. Jare tapped on the door. 

The door opened and Ajibade stepped out.

“Well done, sir.” He stifled a yawn. 

“Open the gate.”Jare ordered,”Nah you dey flash light for BQ?”

“No sir.” Ajibade stepped out of his gatehouse peeping round the back of the house, the fuzzy ball on top of his head warmer flopped around. 

Jare ushered me out of the gate. His smile apologetic. The gate closed in my face before I could say goodnight. I walked home under the yellow street lamps, my heart still pounding.

Somebody had known we were there, but who?

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Entry #2 out soon...