Lookout For Miss Right - 3

Her number burned a hole in my pocket for the rest of that week. There was something delectably irresistible about her.
Maybe it was her boldness I found alluring. There was nothing secretive about her. Her vivaciousness and bubbling nature had me intrigued.
I couldn’t help wondering why she’d taken an interest in me. I’m not ugly or anything, but I’m not the connoisseur of good looks. At least so I keep telling myself.
I would like to tell myself that I’d charmed her off her feet but that would be deceiving myself, because not once during our conversation had I released my charm.
I didn’t call her.
That weekend I decided to talk about my dilemma with my friends. I was hosting them for the weekend, it was a tradition we’d started four years ago. We took turns hanging out in each other’s place; the closeness and feeling of intimacy it brought was what I cherished about those weekends.

I didn’t wait too long to spill to them the reason for my discomfort that week. Femi, as usual was immediately interested in the woman that had caught my fancy.
“Guy…Chief Odeniran’s daughter?” He gaped. “Abeg, what are you waiting for? Call her or pass her number to me.”
“Because na only you sabi fine thing abi?” I reproached.
“I thought you’re not interested. This one you’re still thinking it over. Let me enjoy while you make up your mind.”
I ignored him.
“When on earth will you stop this playboy life and settle down?” Flores teased. “I just hope one day you won’t catch one unnameable disease.”
“Sweetheart. Have I not told you I intend to die with a woman on top of me?”
“May God not answer that prayer.” Oscar said. “So, back to Jake, what do you want to do now?”
“To call or not to call, that’s the question.” Femi teased.
“The truth is I’m not sure. I’m tired of moving from one chick to another.”
“What are you saying?” Flores asked. “You broke up with your last babe three years ago. So which one be moving from one chic to another?”
“I know. It’s just that I feel like there’s something missing in my life. In clear terms; I’m unhappy. I don’t need some woman who’d drain me of all I have, not a casual relationship. I need the…woman. You know the one who I’d share my success with, my fears, my everything…”
The air in the living room was now sober. It seemed like my words had cast a certain mist in the atmosphere.
“In other words.” I paused for effect. “Oscar, I want what you have. I want that inane happiness I sense in you. I envy what you have with Abigail. No vex ooh, didn’t mean to sound so…ahem…”
“No offence ooh.”
I smiled.
And suddenly the mist broke. Femi began clapping.
“Femi, what’s that?” Flores darted a look at him.
“Omo, see speech. Kai, I wish I fit talk even half of wetin you talk. I always know say na Shakespeare you be.” Femi teased.
“Sharrap joor.” I said. “I’m talking serious matter here.”
“So, bottom line Jake, is that you’re not sure whether to pursue this Sonia girl?” Oscar asked. “You don’t know if you’ll find what you’re looking for in her.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“And I say, why don’t you give her a try. It’s just a date. Call her up and fix one.” Flores said.  “You don’t have to pledge undying love to her or anything.”
“Or better still. Give me her number and I’ll call her and set up the date between you two.” Femi grinned.
“Speaking of number sef, why didn’t you hook Jake up with your er…step-sister?” It was Flores asking.
Femi shrugged without giving a reply.
“Or is she too good for him?” Flores pressed.  “You didn’t even co-operate sef. Which kain friend you be?”
“True ooh. Femi, why now?” Oscar joined.
“He was not interested. It was her beauty that attracted him.” Femi finally said.
“Oh Lord…look who’s talking. You of all people! Don’t even go there.” Flores was getting worked up.
I listened as they tossed words back and forth. As I listened to Femi defend himself; the realisation dawned on me. I wondered why it hadn’t occurred to me before…
“You’re sleeping with her!” I exclaimed.

Everyone turned to look at me.

I was sure of it now. It all added up. The intimate looks that had passed between them, his reluctance to leave her side…

“What did you say?” Oscar asked.
“He’s sleeping with her. That’s why he didn’t want to introduce me.” I turned to him. “Isn’t that true?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Lookout For Miss Right - 3

Her number burned a hole in my pocket for the rest of that week. There was something delectably irresistible about her.
Maybe it was her boldness I found alluring. There was nothing secretive about her. Her vivaciousness and bubbling nature had me intrigued.
I couldn’t help wondering why she’d taken an interest in me. I’m not ugly or anything, but I’m not the connoisseur of good looks. At least so I keep telling myself.
I would like to tell myself that I’d charmed her off her feet but that would be deceiving myself, because not once during our conversation had I released my charm.
I didn’t call her.
That weekend I decided to talk about my dilemma with my friends. I was hosting them for the weekend, it was a tradition we’d started four years ago. We took turns hanging out in each other’s place; the closeness and feeling of intimacy it brought was what I cherished about those weekends.

I didn’t wait too long to spill to them the reason for my discomfort that week. Femi, as usual was immediately interested in the woman that had caught my fancy.
“Guy…Chief Odeniran’s daughter?” He gaped. “Abeg, what are you waiting for? Call her or pass her number to me.”
“Because na only you sabi fine thing abi?” I reproached.
“I thought you’re not interested. This one you’re still thinking it over. Let me enjoy while you make up your mind.”
I ignored him.
“When on earth will you stop this playboy life and settle down?” Flores teased. “I just hope one day you won’t catch one unnameable disease.”
“Sweetheart. Have I not told you I intend to die with a woman on top of me?”
“May God not answer that prayer.” Oscar said. “So, back to Jake, what do you want to do now?”
“To call or not to call, that’s the question.” Femi teased.
“The truth is I’m not sure. I’m tired of moving from one chick to another.”
“What are you saying?” Flores asked. “You broke up with your last babe three years ago. So which one be moving from one chic to another?”
“I know. It’s just that I feel like there’s something missing in my life. In clear terms; I’m unhappy. I don’t need some woman who’d drain me of all I have, not a casual relationship. I need the…woman. You know the one who I’d share my success with, my fears, my everything…”
The air in the living room was now sober. It seemed like my words had cast a certain mist in the atmosphere.
“In other words.” I paused for effect. “Oscar, I want what you have. I want that inane happiness I sense in you. I envy what you have with Abigail. No vex ooh, didn’t mean to sound so…ahem…”
“No offence ooh.”
I smiled.
And suddenly the mist broke. Femi began clapping.
“Femi, what’s that?” Flores darted a look at him.
“Omo, see speech. Kai, I wish I fit talk even half of wetin you talk. I always know say na Shakespeare you be.” Femi teased.
“Sharrap joor.” I said. “I’m talking serious matter here.”
“So, bottom line Jake, is that you’re not sure whether to pursue this Sonia girl?” Oscar asked. “You don’t know if you’ll find what you’re looking for in her.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“And I say, why don’t you give her a try. It’s just a date. Call her up and fix one.” Flores said.  “You don’t have to pledge undying love to her or anything.”
“Or better still. Give me her number and I’ll call her and set up the date between you two.” Femi grinned.
“Speaking of number sef, why didn’t you hook Jake up with your er…step-sister?” It was Flores asking.
Femi shrugged without giving a reply.
“Or is she too good for him?” Flores pressed.  “You didn’t even co-operate sef. Which kain friend you be?”
“True ooh. Femi, why now?” Oscar joined.
“He was not interested. It was her beauty that attracted him.” Femi finally said.
“Oh Lord…look who’s talking. You of all people! Don’t even go there.” Flores was getting worked up.
I listened as they tossed words back and forth. As I listened to Femi defend himself; the realisation dawned on me. I wondered why it hadn’t occurred to me before…
“You’re sleeping with her!” I exclaimed.

Everyone turned to look at me.

I was sure of it now. It all added up. The intimate looks that had passed between them, his reluctance to leave her side…

“What did you say?” Oscar asked.
“He’s sleeping with her. That’s why he didn’t want to introduce me.” I turned to him. “Isn’t that true?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Lookout for Miss Right - 2

To say she was stunning would be an understatement- a mere insult. This woman had me dumbstruck. She had skin the colour of honey, shiny and attractive. On her head was an elaborate hairdo whose name I didn’t bother to know.
Her musky scent tickled my nostrils and left my mouth hanging with admiration.
I could see she relished the effect she had on me. It was her body that captivated me the most; rather, her fleshy chest which she had barely covered had gotten my attention.
She was dressed in a tight red gown that scarcely kissed her knees. Oh my!

“People! Stop staring!” Femi’s voice snapped me out of my trance. “Meet my sister. Barbara Bode-Johnson.” He made a sweeping gesture towards her, a sanctimonious look on his face.
“Your…what?” I stammered. “Since when, Femi?”
“Step-sister actually.” Her voice was delightful. “Don’t be naughty Femi.”
“My popsy’s second wife’s daughter.” I could tell he was gloating. “Barbs, meet my crazy friends. That young guy over there is Jacob, and this prude chick here is Florence.”
I wanted to punch him. What sort of wiseass introduction was that?

“Nice to meet you, guys” She settled on the couch beside Femi.
“Femi, I don’t blame you. Me, prude abi? Yeye boy.” Florence glowered at  him.

I shifted nervously; my uncharacteristic speechlessness in front of this lady was putting me at a disadvantage. I made eyes at Femi, communicating to him my interest in his step-sister; hoping he’d take the cue and set the ball rolling.
My good friend deliberately ignored me while laughing over something with Barbara.

“Barbara. That’s a beautiful name.” I eventually spoke. It was the ultimate cliché; the testing ground for an upcoming ‘toast’, but I didn’t care- I needed to do something to get her attention.

She didn’t even glance at me when she thanked me for my empty compliment.
I gave Flores a pleading look, begging her to come to my aid. She smiled fleetingly and rose to her feet.
“Femi, oya let’s go and get lunch ready. You promised to help with the cooking today, remember?”
I glowed with joy within me. Florence to the rescue!

“But…”  Femi began.
“Now, Femi. Abi you’re not hungry? Get your butt into the kitchen now, jare.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.
I watched Femi shuffle reluctantly to his feet and I immediately took his place beside the couch.
Over the years I’d learned the number one rule of ‘chyking’ a girl; pretend like you care about  more than what she looks like. Get her to talk about herself, feign interest in what she’s interested in.
From her conversation with Femi, I’d gleaned that she was into fashion, so my opening line was:
“How long have you been into fashion?”
This time she looked at me, fixing me with a bland look. “Six years.” She said.
“Interesting. My sister would also like to go into fashion. She always talks about it.” Big lie but something to nudge her into opening up more.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Ad if this is what fashionistas look like; I won’t mind having one for a sister.”
She didn’t blush or smile. She just stared at me.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
She shrugged. I had the distinct feeling she was playing the part. Quiet my foot!
“Tell me about yourself.” I said, finally.
Normally, that line hardly worked. I was surprised when she took the bait and plunged into a diatribe. For the next one hour, I heard everything about Barbara Bode-Johnson. But mehn…she could talk ehn! All she needed was a cue. She glided from one topic to the other.
At some point I blocked her out and floated to an alternate universe. I only tuned in to the important things I felt I needed to know about her. I stored them in my archive for future reference.
The rest of the day went by uneventfully. I found myself watching her closely. Who was she really? Who was the lady behind the mask? I’d been in countless relationships and hadn’t gotten the necessary fulfilment from them, was I ready to pursue a relationship with this well made-up lady?

I have to admit she lingered in my thoughts for days, but he; that didn’t stop me from admiring the next girl that caught my fancy.
I met her exactly a week after meeting Barbara at a dinner party organized by the bank where I work.
I had come to the party alone which gave me enough opportunity to admire the pretty ladies in attendance.
The first time I spotted Sonia, it was from across the room and it was her boisterous laughter that caught my attention. She held a glass in her hand; her head thrown back while laughing in abandon.
“That’s Sonia Odeniran.” A voice spoke at my shoulder. It was a colleague of mine and he’d noticed me watching her.
“Oh?”
“She’s Chief Odeniran’s daughter.”
“Impressive.”  Chief Odeniran was a major client in our bank.
“I think she just returned from overseas…I’m not sure where” My colleague continued.
I excused myself from my colleague and decided to take a position where I’ll have easy access to Sonia. I succeeded in inserting myself in their little group and joining their conversation, this also afforded me a chance to check her out up close.
While she wasn’t exactly the beauty Barbara was, she had her curves in the right places. She was plump and well-endowed with a generous amount of backside. A real Yoruba lady. I grinned inwardly.

“Hello handsome.” Her voice startled me.
“Hello.” I held out my hand. “I’m sorry I just couldn’t seem to stop staring.”
She let out a school-girl giggle. “I don’t mind. As long as you like what you see.”
I clasped her bejewelled hand in mine, marvelling at her directness.
“I do.” I made eye contact. “I’m Jacob Kojo. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
“Sonia Odeniran.” She smiled. “And if I may I say; I like what I see too.”
I suddenly had the feeling that somehow we’d exchanged places. Who was doing the hunting?
“So, what are you? Businessman? Investor? Client?” she went on to ask.
“Banker. Your father is one of our major clients.”
“Ooooh…banker. That sounds sexy.” She batted her eyes at me.
She was flirting with me!
“Let’s get a drink.” I said, trying to calm myself.
“You look shy. Makes you more attractive.” She tossed over her shoulder as we went in search of drinks.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t think of a suitable reply. This was supposed to be my game. I was supposed to be in charge of situations like this, so what had happened? When had the tables turned?
“Are you okay?” She asked, after handing me a drink.
I liked her voice. Feminine yet strong.
“Sure. Why?”
“You look, well…overwhelmed. I’m sorry if I’m talking nonsense. I’m afraid my stay in the States has rubbed off on me.”
“Oh? I don’t think you’re talking nonsense at all. I love listening to you.”
She grinned at me; there was nothing coquettish about her.
“I’m doing my Masters in America. I just got back.  Hey, let me have your phone.”
I obeyed. She punched the keypad a few times before handing the phone back to me.
“My number. You’ll need it.” She blew me a kiss, before walking away, her hips swaying provocatively.

I felt a rush of blood to my loins. What kind of girl is this?

That night I dreamt of swaying hips and a woman calling me ‘handsome’.
But I awoke with the name Barbara on my lips…

To be continued…

Lookout for Miss Right - 1

The year was 2011 and I had just turned 27. I was doing quite well as a bachelor, with a stable job in a bank. I had my own apartment and could afford three meals a day. One could say I had everything I wanted…except, I hated my job. Banking had never been my dream job, it had been something my family wanted for me and I eventually found myself doing. The pay was fairly good, and sometimes I get bonuses. At least I got to work in an air-conditioned room.
Okay…so I had more than some people could boast of but I felt like there was something missing. Something that made me feel unfulfilled, yet I couldn’t place my finger on it. I lived my life virtually like every young bachelor would - spending Mondays to Fridays working and the weekend chilling with my pals. These friends were what made my world go round; they gave me a break from the real world and my hectic job. Femi, Florence and Oscar were what I would call the world’s best friends; we had known each other since our University days and had remained thick as thieves even after graduation.
We were an odd combination; wild, conservative and crazy. Amongst us, Oscar was the genius. His glasses added to his sense of superiority. He was the nerdy, good-looking guy; the type that thrilled girls with his medical jargon. Did I mention he’s a doctor? And oh yea, he’s engaged to be married to a wonderful lady. Abigail.
Femi, on the other hand is the exact opposite of Oscar. He’s the air head among us with an infectious sanguine disposition. He’s loud mouthed; the spoilt rich kid, the womanizer. His favorite past time apart from women was cars. And he could afford them. His father was wealthy.
“Life is too short to brood.” He liked to say, beer in hand, lady on laps.
Apart from Florence, he was the star of our group. The glue that held us together, the one who made us laugh.
Florence was our girl. She was our mother hen and sister. She brought balance to our friendship whenever Oscar was depressed or Femi was being rash or when I was being stupid.
As for me, what can I say? I lived a very simple life. Well, until something changed all that.

Fridays are the best days of the week for me because it meant freedom from my hellish job and an opportunity to spend time with my friends and well, a wonderful time to laze around.
It was Friday again and I was cleaning my desk for the weekend when my phone rang:
“Guy what’s up?” It was Femi.
“Packing up. Where you dey?”
“Outside. In your parking lot.”
“Abeg chill. On my way.”
I slid my laptop into my bag and rushed out to meet Femi.
He was in his latest purchase; a gold Sienna. I opened the car door and entered the back seat. Florence sat in the front seat beside him.
“Hi guys.” I greeted.
“You closed late today, abi?” Florence asked.
“Nah. I think you closed too early.”
Florence was a teacher in a primary school; something she loved doing.
“Abeg who’s that chick?” It was Femi; he was staring out of his window.
I looked in the direction he was pointing, it was Jennifer, one of my co-workers.
“Forget it man.” I said.
“Why? She’s hot.”
“She’s married.” I retorted.
“Can’t you stay one moment without drooling over a woman?” Florence asked, slapping the back of his head.
“Drive joor. She’s off limits.” I said.
With a sigh, he started the car and drove off. We were not strangers to Femi’s addiction to women; well, maybe addiction is too strong a word but he certainly liked the ladies, and funny thing is, they liked him too. He knew exactly what to say to get them blushing or smiling sheepishly. And maybe the fact that he was quite wealthy added to the lure. Everything about him was flashy, cars, clothes, house and even his haircut.
“Does Oscar have night shift today?” Florence asked.
“No. Afternoon, I think.” I replied.
“Seriously, how does he do it?” Femi asked. “He works all day and yet he managed to catch a fine chick. And they’re getting married! Ah!”
“Maybe when you decide to settle down, you’ll find a woman like Abigail too…besides Oscar fine oo. You don see his abs?” Florence chuckled.
Femi and I looked at her in mock awe. “Oh! You’ve seen Oscar’s abs before? Florence!” I teased.
“Shut up both of you joor.”
“Wait, you dey try tell me say I wowo?” Femi threw her a sharp look.
“Abeg, Flores, no vex Femi before he pack us under trailer.” I said with a laugh.

We were hanging out at Femi’s that weekend. His house was a duplex with more rooms that I could count. I couldn’t imagine living the extravagant life Femi lived. I always wondered what I would do if I had the kind of money Femi had.
I would probably find someone to share it with, not those cheap girls that Femi spent time with…someone special, a decent girl like Oscar had found.
Truth is, lately I’d been thinking about that special someone. I’d been giving my life a lot of thought recently. Perhaps it was time to settle down.

We were reclining in Femi’s second parlor when she walked in.
The woman that will change my life.

Love,friendship, romance.

"LET ME BE YOUR FOREVER"

“Your beauty is exquisite Aailyah"
Those words instantly transport me to a time when life was truly beautiful.
I smile.
“You’ve always rocked my world.” His voice flits toward me.
I reach out to touch him; to feel him.

“Aailyah…I want to feel you in me. Your love completes me. You’re my all.”

I feel the tears trickling down my face. I don’t know why I’m crying. Perhaps because I’m overwhelmed with joy at seeing him.
I cling to him, welcoming him into my world again. I can feel the bond that holds us.

“Will you ever leave me, Adin?” I whisper.
His only answer is to lower his lips gently to mine; caressing my lips softly with his. His kiss has always meant heaven to me. Those lips that never grow old, they have sent me to destinations unknown in time past. I could pick them out of a crowd of countless lips.
I feel my heart beating loudly against my chest as he kisses me. I don’t want to ever let go.
“Hold me, Adin.” I say, my eyes filling with tears. “Take me with you. I’ll be your forever.”

I watch him smile at me- that golden smile. The one that melted me when I first saw it. His dimples blink shyly at me.

“Mummy?” A voice slices the peace in my heart. “Mummy! What are you doing?!”

I blink, looking in the direction of the voice. All I see is darkness. My Adin is gone.
“No! Don’t leave me!” I scream, reaching out to grip him.
“Mummy! Calm down.” That pesky voice again.
“Adin please don’t go.” I’m sobbing now.
Hands suddenly cradle me.

“Easy mummy.” She says, her voice sounding suddenly familiar and soothing.
I wonder why she keeps calling me mummy.
“I want Adin.” I say, hoping she will hear me. “I saw him here, just a few minutes ago.”

There’s silence. My sweet-voiced girl doesn’t answer me. Then I hear another voice:
“She’s agitated. Leave her be. I’ll give her her medication.”
“Doctor, is she going to ever know me again?” I hear the sweet-voiced girl now. “She’s always talking about my father; calling his name! But what about me?!”

I open my eyes, trying to see the girl. Again I see darkness.
Nothing. No Adin. No girl. I’m all alone.
“I’m sorry Miss. I wish I could reassure you but I can’t. Your mother suffered a traumatic accident that affected not just her sight, but her memory also.”
“So she will never recover either? Give me some hope, doctor! It’s been two years already! It’s the same story! You think I like seeing my mother in this condition? I hate coming to this place, I come because I love her.  But how can I love someone who doesn’t even know me?”

I can feel her trembling. I sense the pain in her voice and I wish I can comfort her. Adin always knows how to comfort me.
“Adin can comfort you.” I say, reaching out to touch her.
“Oh for God’s sake Mum! Daddy is dead!”
Suddenly the hands are no longer holding me. I miss their comforting touch.
“Lie down Aailyah. It’s time for your medication.” It’s the other voice I hear now.
I sense the needle as it makes contact with my skin. Drowsiness sets in.
I know I’m about to take a trip; perhaps I will meet Adin again. And this time never let him go.

2013 All rights reserved. MimiAdebayo.

HABIBA

Her name is Habiba; she is the pretty girl that sells recharge cards under the mango tree at the junction of our street. I don’t know how old she is but I think she’s older than me, but age is just a number when it comes to love, right?
I’m only fourteen but I’ve learned to admire beauty. So I am very sure of what I mean when I say I’m going to marry Habiba when I’m older. I have not told her this.
I have only told Salma my elder sister and she laughed at me. Salma is sixteen and developing,we are the only children of our mother but we manage to spend very little time with either of our parents.
Mama would rather spend all her time in the prayer house begging God to convert Papa’s wicked soul.
Papa, on the other hand has four other children besides me and Salma that keep his hands full. I’ve always wondered what religion I will eventually practice.
Papa is a Muslim and Mama is a Christian; Mama has once mentioned that she’d been instructed by a prophetess to marry Papa and that her purpose in life is to convert him.
Well;  sixteen years have come and gone; Papa married another wife and he’s as strong a Muslim as ever.
I’ve tried telling Mama that maybe her prophetess made a mistake all those years ago; she tells me:
“Sule, God’s time is the best. I will be patient.”
She says that often and I wonder when the time named ‘God’s time’ will come.
Even though Mama makes us go to church with her; I’m not sure I believe like she does. Maybe because I’ve watched her go from one prayer house to another seeking answers.
Mama doesn’t eat; not because she doesn’t want to, but because she’s always on one fast or the other.
“This weekend is deliverance weekend.” She’ll say. “We have to fast seven days to prepare ourselves for God’s blessing.”
Salma and I hate these impromptu fasts because Mama always makes sure we participate by not cooking except for Papa.
And then when the Muslim fasts come; we are expected to participate too.
I might become a Muslim because I want to marry Habiba; but then again- I could be a Christian and make Habiba become one too. I would not need to visit prayer houses to get her to change; our love would be strong enough to make that choice for us.

Today is Friday and I’m walking from school alone. On other days Salma and I walk home together, recently though, my sister has been trying to separate herself from me.
A friend of mine told me it is puberty.” Salma is changing,” he said.” She now has big breasts and her bottom is round. She can get married any day!”
The picture of my sister married is a funny one, though not a strange one.
I don’t know if that’s her reason for leaving me but I don’t care. I need space too. If I’m going to start courting Habiba; I must look and act mature.
Maybe I will write her a poem! Oh Habiba! Your eyes are like the stars twinkling like er…
Perhaps a poem isn’t such a good idea. I’m now at the junction where Habiba’s spot is but I don’t see her anywhere.
Her usual spot is empty. I wonder where she is.
However, I continue my journey home. Tomorrow is another day. Or this evening. I could sneak out just to take a peek at dear Habiba.

As I approach the house, I notice the compound is empty. I can tell where my two Mamas have gone to. But I was expecting Salma to be home.
I’m passing to my room but I decide to take a peek through her room window to see if she’s home.
The blinds are pulled down but there’s a small hole in her curtain which I doubt she knows about, so I stand on tiptoe and peep into the room.
I almost fall when I see them.
My one and only Habiba and my sister kissing.

And the first thought that comes to mind is that I will join Mama tomorrow on her visit to the prayer house. I have a reason - My heart has just been broken.

The Sword Called Divorce (Episode Finale)

Joe wasn’t sure what to do. He hesitated before opening the door.
“Who’s it?” Nike emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hand with a dishrag.
“Er…” shifted on his feet.
The door fell open to reveal Izie standing in the doorway. It was raining outside and she was dripping wet.
“May I come in?” She hugged herself.
“What for?” Nike was suddenly on the defensive, twirling the dish rag in her hands.
“Please, it’s cold out here.”
Without another word, Joe shifted to let her in. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but he knew he didn’t wanna be there. This was wrong timing. He’d thought Izie was outta their lives for good.
“What do you want, Izie?” Nike asked, standing with arms akimbo.
“Sister Izie! Hello!” It was Bella who broke the ice, she ran towards her and threw herself in  Izie’s arms, not minding her wet body.
“How are you, sweetheart?” Izie bent to kiss her, nervously.
“Come and see my homework.” She held on to Izie’s hand and pulled her towards the centre table.
“Bella darling. Go to your room and put on the TV.”  Nike ordered stiffly.
“But mummy…I want to…” Bella looked set to throw a tantrum.
“Bella. You heard your mummy. Let’s go and watch Dora the Explorer. You’ll see Sister Izie later.” Joe took her by the shoulders firmly and led her to her room.
The awkwardness returned to the room like the ghosts of a graveyard;   both women stared at themselves, one with disgust…the other with a plea. The nervousness that permeated the atmosphere was as thick as clothe.
“What do you want Izie? Nike was exasperated. “Why don’t you just leave us alone?”
“I came to see you. There’s nothing I have to say that you haven’t heard before but the difference is today I’m not leaving here without your forgiveness.”
The next thing Izie did stunned Nike. She dropped to her knees before her, wet clothes and all dripping all over the floor.
“I haven’t had a night of peace since this saga started. I regret what I did. I feel stupid for letting the devil use me to break a home. And I can’t live with myself if this family falls apart. Please ma, with every drop of blood in my body I’m begging you to forgive me. I am so sorry for what I did. Please find a place in your heart to forgive me.”
If Izie had looked closely, she’d have noticed that Nike was shaking almost frenziedly.
“Please ma. I’m not leaving here until you forgive me.” Izie reiterated, this time tears were running down her face.
“You…you have the guts to…do you…do you know what you…” Within the blink of an eye, Nike hit Izie right across the face, the impact sending her reeling back.
The only noise in the room was the whimpering sound coming from Izie.
“I deserve that. I deserve that and more. If it makes you feel better ma, go ahead and hit me again.” Izie snivelled.
Surprisingly, Nike sank to the floor in tears. She clutched at her chest and began sobbing softly.
Anyone walking in on the scene would be transfixed by the sight before their eyes. Two women, seemingly arch-enemies sat beside each other with tears running down their faces.
“Come here, you silly girl.” Nike whispered, and pulled Izie into her arms.
And with just one hug; the months of resentment melted away and slowly the pain began to heal. The healing balm began to do its work.
It’s called love and with it comes forgiveness.

No more words needed to be said, apologies were no longer essential…an unspoken agreement had just been made. Both women had come to terms with themselves and their mistakes.
“I’m making dinner. Coconut rice, will you eat?” Nike raised herself up, dusting her skirt.
“Er…ma, I have something to show you.”
“Again? What is it again?”
“Marie.”
At the sound of her daughter’s name, Nike pivoted sharply. “What? What did you say?”
Before she could reply the door to the sitting room flew open and Marie stood in the shadows.
“Mummy.” Her voice filtered in.
“Marie!!!” Without thinking, Nike ran forward and folded her daughter into her arms “Honey! Marie is home!!!” She announced, her voice brimming with joy.
The atmosphere at the Babalola’s residence was suddenly filled with joy, excitement and exhilaration. So many questions being asked without answers being given, lots of hugs and kisses and above the din no one noticed when Izie slipped away.

After fifteen minutes of hullabaloo, quietness returned to the atmosphere again.
“Where’s Izie?” Nike asked.
“Ah…she was here some minutes ago.” Joe responded.
“Mummy, daddy. Sister Izie is gone.” Marie said softly.
“What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“She said she’s leaving our lives for good. She came to say good bye.”
“Oh my God. She shouldn’t have left just like that. I have to call her. She’s family now. Where’s my phone?”
Joe and Marie watched Nike go off looking for her phone.

“Daddy where’s Bella?” Marie asked.
“She slept off while watching TV. Sweetheart don’t ever do that again, ok? Don’t run off to prove a point.”
“I wasn’t proving a point daddy. I wanted you and mummy back together again. I needed mummy to come back to her senses.”
“Well, let’s hope you succeeded. Come here and gimme a hug. We missed  you.”

“You planned this with Izie, right?”  Nike came back in, brandishing her phone.
“I’m sorry mummy. But I wanted you and daddy to see what it’s like to have a broken home.”
“You know what?” Nike stood with arms akimbo. “You’re too wise for your own age.”
Marie cracked a smile. “Did it work, mummy?”
“Well, let’s just say you taught me a good lesson. Now I know how much this family means to me.”
With that Nike covered the distance between her and her husband, holding out her hand to him.
“I’ve also learned the art of forgiveness. If anyone had told me some months ago that I wouldn’t hate you and Izie again…I would’ve sent that person to hell and back. But knowing what I know now…the way I felt when I let go of all the anger and pain, I feel so relieved, so light; like a burden has been taken off my shoulders. Honey, I’m sorry for being stubborn and unforgiving. I don’t know what came over me but we all make mistakes and even God forgives.”
“And I’m sorry for betraying you. It’ll never happen again.” Joe beamed and dropped to one knee. “Mrs Nike Babalola would you do me the favour of re-marrying me? Let’s renew our vows.”

Nike flushed, glancing at her daughter. “Yes, I will remarry you.”

MIMI. A

Copyright@mimiadebayo2013