Love Drops E-Book Page 2

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  Their lovemaking was gentle and patient, a silent testament to the peace that had somehow unknotted the muscles in his shoulders and back, same peace that put some sort of undulating into her waist. They had never been the screaming type; a sigh here, a moan there, a word in between – but there had always been a kind of understanding; an interaction that shone through everything they did together – from ordinary conversing to sex.

  It was…perfect. They went together like bread, agonyi beans and coke.

  Suddenly, her limbs tightened against his; he ground his lips against her left shoulder; there was a frantic vibrating in the small of her back – and it was over.

  A cat screamed in the distance.

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  I don’t want to leave you.

  You do know we would look very conspicuous together, she said, caressing his jaw with a finger. Besides, you would go faster if you went by yourself. Shebi it’s just to use the ATM?

  He nodded. ATM – and then to get us bus tickets.

  You won’t be long. Besides, I need to tidy up and pack. So go.

  His eyes took her in; legs that seemed to start from heaven and end somewhere around where Eden was supposed to be, his grey t-shirt resting on heavy hips – t-shirt large enough to hide her tummy bulge but not the two hillocks that stood proudly on her chest, looking like they were actually part of the t-shirt…

  To the small lips that were even now smiling at him, the cute little nose and eyes – eyes that gleamed with love – and he spent a moment wondering if he deserved that kind of devotion.

  You’re so beautiful, he muttered huskily.

  She lowered her eyes. Go jo!

  He nodded and went out of the door, looking at his wrist watch.

  6:11am.

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  There was a smile on his face as he rounded the corner and hailed one of the okadas lazing just ahead of him. He bent his head to confer with the man – and because of that, he missed the vehicle that eased past the bike and into the street he’d just stepped out of.

  Not that it would have made any difference if he had noticed the vehicle – all he would have seen was a bright red Golf.

  He hopped on the okada and it zoomed off.

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  She was fully dressed and was carefully folding the last of his clothes in the backpack, whistling Asa’s Ife as much as she could from between smiling lips – when the soft knock came.

  He shouldn’t be back this early.

  But that didn’t stop her rushing towards the door and opening it –

  A heavy slap knocked her against the sofa and she hit it hard, screaming softly as something gave way in her right side. She slid off the back of the sofa and to the floor.

  Through a red-tinted haze, she saw three – no, four black clothed forms walk through the door, carrying all sorts of weapons. One of them closed the door softly while the one nearest her held his forefinger against his lips.

  He’s not bad looking, she thought to herself, holding her side and feeling wet stickiness run down into her jeans. It was a familiar stickiness, the kind she used Always for once every month.

  Where is he? He had removed his finger from his mouth and was now glowering at her.

  She shook her head slowly and he frowned. Red spots went off in his eyes – red spots that seemed to push her back – and she knew; as factually as she knew her name, she had seen her boyfriend for the last time.

  They stood by the door staring – and then ‘Red Eyes’ waved the others around, while he sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette.

  The room suddenly dimmed and brightened – she was feeling light-headed, and then realized that the stickiness flowing down her side had thinned out and was moving quite sluggishly. Blinking foolishly, it occurred to her that her boyfriend would probably be on his way back.

  Fright gave life to her limbs, and through narrowed eyelids she watched the sofa-smoker while she fished for her phone from within her pocket. She found it, and using the sofa as a screen quickly typed a five-word message.

  She had hit the send button when she sensed a presence in front of her. Looking up, she found herself staring into two eyes that glowed with the fires of hell. She didn’t have much time –

  The room had gone darker.

  Mustering all the strength she had left, she smashed the phone against the corner of the table nearest her, satisfaction warming her heart as the solid frame of the phone collapsed in her hand. She even had time to hear the angry roar of sofa-smoker, had time to see his sneaker-covered right foot as it flashed towards her face…

  The kick broke her neck.

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  He was on the queue for tickets when he felt his phone vibrate. At first he dismissed it, writing it off as an alert from his bank concerning the money he’d withdrawn roughly fifteen minutes ago. He was almost at the ticket grill when he remembered he’d already gotten the alert – an alert he’d read and deleted.

  With that realization came worry, and he whipped out his phone, heart racing a mile a minute. He saw who the text was from, opened it –

  And his worst fears became alive like tentacles, wrapping him in clingy arms of dread.

  The text contained only five words, but they were enough to turn his life upside down;

  Theyre here dont come back

  He jumped out of the line and started running, running and screaming for a bike, screaming for a bike and wondering which was faster, his legs or the tears streaming down his face. A bike eventually stopped and he jumped on, yelling the name of the hotel.

  But he knew.

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  She looked like she was sleeping.

  In fact, but for the half-open door and the fact that she was lying on the floor, he would have thought she was sleeping.

  He was kneeling beside her, calling her name before he saw the blood that made her look like she was wearing too much lipstick; lipstick that had dribbled down her mouth to stain her blouse at the neck.

  He knelt there, his mind a fiery plain of white.

  After a while he stood up, carried the backpack off the bed and walked out.

  He was on a bus to Lagos, three hours later before he screamed for the first time.

 

  Daddy’s Gehl – A Girl and Her Father

  Something is not quite right. With me, that is.

  I haven’t thought about it much – the anticipation of seeing daddy again is overwhelming. I think I’m sick. I’m afraid I’m sick.

  For now however, I won’t tell daddy anything. He has this amazing ability to worry over the most mundane things. And I just want to spend time with him – without interruption.

  I smile as I think about him – and the argument we’re about to have.

  But Daddy, I am eighteen!

  You’re still my baby girl.

  I would look at him and smile, and then he would bend his head in that cute way he has.

  My dad is a very handsome man. It’s amazing he’s stayed single for so long – five years after mum.

  After mum –

  It hurts. I cry myself to sleep many nights – but I hurt for him more. For many nights he would sit and stare out of the window, tears running down stiff cheeks. Nights I would want to go to him, and just cuddle like I used to –

  But something – call it woman’s intuition – tells me he needs to grieve by himself. So I leave him and cry myself to sleep.

  I become aware of the plane’s descent – look out the window at th
e Murtala Mohammed Airport grounds as it gradually comes closer – ready to welcome the plane with open arms.

  I can’t wait to see daddy again.

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  Lagos weather is just as hot and stifling as it was when I left five months and ten days ago. The heat rushes at me as I step off the plane and unto the tarmac, hugging me tight like a missing relative finally found.

  Hmmm. I prefer daddy’s hugs though.

  He’s right where I expect him to be; head bent, small frown marring his very smooth forehead. He’s looking at something on his phone – but then he looks up and our eyes meet.

  The smile that makes all sorts of lights go off wherever he is is reflected on my face – and I feel a swelling in the part of me reserved for very few special people in my life. I let my bags slip from my fingers and I run to him; this man who, along with a very special woman gave me life. His blue guinea-covered arms open – and as I enter his embrace, I know he hugs me with his arms but holds me in his heart.

  My father.

  How’s my little girl? He asks with a voice that trembles slightly. I know he’s missed me too.

  I’m fine daddy – but I’m upset!

  He pushes his glasses up – and walks past me. I turn slightly, following him with my eyes as I wonder where he’s going – and then I realize he’s going to get the bags I discarded earlier.

  I cover my face and he winks at me.

  From the corner of my left eye I observe a woman observing my dad and I, displeasure heavy like mascara on her face. For a moment – I wonder why she’s so angry –

  Then it hits me. And I smile, evilly.

  As my father approaches, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss his face repeatedly, watching the woman covertly. At the sight of her about to burst a gasket, I explode in laughter, daddy shaking his head beside me as we walk out.

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  Still upset?

  The wood-pine-lemony smell of the BMW’s interior threatens to chokes me with the rush of memories it unclasps – and I grip my dad’s hand. He squeezes mine in return – only then do I realize he spoke to me earlier.

  Upset?

  I think for a moment – and then get his reference. Yes daddy, I still am.

  He looks concerned. What did I do, princess?

  Dad, I am eighteen. I don’t think I’m too young to drive a car. How old where you when you started driving?

  He smiles – he smiles and I cannot be mad at him anymore. You’ve been driving since you were sixteen, he reminds me gently. I squeeze his hand and reiterate; Oh, you know what I mean jo!

  His face straightens. Yes I do. And I think you should be a bit older before owning your own vehicle. He faces me squarely, and I see why my mum always told me I reminded her of him – I see why she forgave and married him again.

  We’ll talk about this soon, okay?

  I nod, feeling my chest tighten. I know we will – my dad does not go back on his words.

  He starts to drive – and a totally different feeling assails me. The lightheadedness I have been battling most of last semester comes back, along with lassitude and fatigue. I think I’m running a fever sef.

  Blaring horns jar me out of my apathy – and I raise my head to see daddy glaring at a danfo driver. The conductor, pants almost around his thighs is waving in a placating manner – trying to get my father to allow them space in front of his vehicle.

  Idiots, he mutters. Try to bully me and when that doesn’t work you resort to begging? Too late!

  I smile. I am indeed, back home.

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  I’m not hungry, dad.

  Okay. Maybe that was not the best thing I could have come up with – but under such short notice –

  It was okay when you said that last night – I mean, we had that Coldstone Ice Cream and it was a lot, I admit. But now? He leans in close and palms my left cheek. What is it? Are you sick?

  And then – a look similar to curtains opening descends on his face – and he asks me, with a voice that suddenly has the shakes; Are you pregnant?

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  No, she’s not pregnant, Doctor Bayo tells my dad. In fact, there’s nothing wrong with her – nothing I can see. Maybe she’s just tired.

  See, daddy? I say, sitting up from the examination table. I am fine!

  I can see he wants to argue. It’s almost as though he is biting down on his tongue to keep from speaking. Finally he smiles at his friend, shakes his hand and turns to me.

  I put my arms around his neck, rest my head against his chest and close my eyes, ignoring the worry I see in his. His heart pounds, reassuringly and I murmur, feeling sleepy; Daddy, I’m okay. Don’t worry, you hear?

  Something rumbles in the centre of my pillow – my dad’s chest; I mean, and it is a while before I realize he’s speaking.

  for you to say, he finishes. You want to see a movie?

  I nod against his chest. Yes please.

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  Annie is a goofy movie that has me in tears.

  As we leave Ikeja City Mall cinema, dad has his arm around my shoulder, explaining to me that the Annie we just saw is a remake of a classic movie – he makes the case for Jay-Z’s hit record Hard Knock Life; also based on a song from the musical. We swing by the KFC, pick up some burgers and fries and Pepsi – and we walk to the car; him talking animatedly, me listening interestedly.

  It’s a once-a-year wonder; my dad talking this way.

  We get to the car and he opens the door for me to get in – something occurs to me. Dad, I start as he enters through his side of the car.

  Yes? He responds distractedly, starting the car and powering down the windows so air can get in. In my excitement I hadn’t realized just how stuffy the car had gotten. He waits for a while – while the car gets relatively cool; and then he powers the windows up and switches on the AC.

  Yes? He says again, turning towards me with a smile.

  Are you still worried?

  He shrugs. It’s not wrong for me to; you know. You’re the only woman in my life –

  I wrinkle my nose. We’ll have to talk about that.

  He nods. Why do you think I brought it up?

  Humor has me shaking my head. Baba mi – always two steps ahead.

  Impulsively I lean over and kiss his stubble-covered cheek. He grins widely, puts the car in gear and starts it moving. I want to get to the office quickly, sweetheart. Do you mind?

  I frown at him and grab the larger of the two burgers. I suddenly feel really ravenous. Biting into it, I give him a sidelong glance, moaning softly as the cool creaminess that is mayonnaise hits my tongue.

  God; I love KFC burger!

  He’s happy I’m eating and he says so. I continue to eat and he lapses into silence, concentrating on his driving. I chew the burger as my mind walks; also trying to solve the puzzle of why I am feeling the way I’ve been feeling.

  I’m done with the burger, sucking the tips of my fingers while reaching in the bag for my Pepsi – as dad is talking about the ongoing political drama –

  When everything falls in place.

  I know what is wrong with me. I look at the man beside me; sure the surprise I’m feeling is clearly represented on my face.

  Oh daddy, I’m in love. I met this boy…

  For Want Of A Child – Igho and Her Husband

  “It was really good having you guys over. Really.” Igo’s eyes silently asked her husband abi? and he nodded, kissing her on the nose.

  “Thank you so much for coming – and bring the kids over next time. You know we love to have them always!”

&
nbsp; Together they watched the Osagies’ rear lights disappear over the landscape of their NEPA-abandoned street – the wailing and screaming of several generating sets providing theme music for the moment – and they turned and walked into their compound, arms still around each other.

  “That was great, wasn’t it? I always like to see Ese – and her husband? Cool guy.”

  Igo eased herself from her husband’s arms and opened the door ahead of him. She stepped inside and waited for him to enter so she could close it after him, but he pulled the door out of her hand, closed it, shot the deadbolt and kissed her.