Love and One other Tragedy
You have been sitting on the bed for a long time now. You didn't know this but if you looked at what your phone's clock said, you will see that it is 1:37am. Did you not come home at 8pm last night.
The thought of what she said won't let you sleep. Could it be that you are used to having peace of mind but the incidents of the past couple of weeks do not exactly relate to peace even by the standard of Lagosians?
Of course, you're oblivious to the hooting horns and screeching tires outside. You have learnt to ignore the busyness of Lagos, and tonight you would not have noticed even if you wanted to because Eunice had stolen the peace you worked hard to build, slowly and gently over a two-month period.
That other day, she told you that her pastor had prophesied that something terrible would happen to her if she rode on a commercial motorcycle henceforth. Not that she stressed the word 'commercial' but you got her point anyway. It is only when she visits you that she boards anything commercial. Her close friend and colleague, the tall and dark guy, athletic build, snow-white teeth, bass voice, and of course, rich... he has a car and he drives her to work, to fun places on weekends and church on Sundays.
Honestly, you could not help but notice how compatible they were. Eunice, average height fair smooth skin like milk, clear like still water, her dentition is a work of art: two neat rows of white teeth packed behind bow-shaped lips.
You almost felt too poor to deserve her, but you remembered what she said in the early days of your relationship:
"I'm not moved by material wealth. You've been my biggest support and you bring me peace and joy. I will never leave you, Ola." Her mother chuckled. Only then did you notice that she had come into the room. Both of you had been so consumed with the passion in each other's eyes.
Last night she said that her mother does not like you and when you asked her why she lied to you. "Well, she no longer likes you." You asked if there was anything you did wrong. She said that her mother just discovered that your grandparents are prideful. You stood there for five full minutes while she hammers away WhatsApp messages on her new iPhone 16. You would have won a mannequin challenge. She brought you back to life with a tap and delivered the following lines:
"Ola, I love you. I really do. I appreciate all the sacrifices you have made for me even though you think them to be small gestures I should not be grateful for." At this point, her eyes had become glassy as they are wont to whenever she tries to persuade you.
She continued, "Look at you earning fifty thousand naira and giving me twelve thousand every month. God knows I appreciate all you have done for me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
At this point in her monologue, the floodgates of her eyes had been flung wide open. Then she delivered the coup de grace: "Ola, I don't want you to come see me here till my mother changes her mind about you. I will think up something though." Long pause, then "Promise me you will be fine."
You said nothing. Your brain was busy untwisting knots and you did not notice the car pull up. You did not notice the guy walk up to you. You did not notice anything until the guy grabbed and pumped your hand after she introduced you to him. You probably did not hear when she told him you were her very good friend and you were a friend of the family and you were her junior when you were in the university.
She excused herself and told you to call her when you get home. That was what you wanted to do when you got home at 8pm last night, then you saw the news notification about your favourite football team, Liverpool, being eliminated from UEFA Champions League.
Your phone vibrated. It was a WhatsApp message, 207 messages, actually, from the boys' group. How do you respond to all the banter they've been cooking for you and your football club? Or the bigger problem. How will you tell them that the girl they've always advised you to leave has finally dumped you for a richer guy?
"Guys, Eunice don break up with me," you typed. "I can also confirm that I lost the bet I made with her colleague, the one that drives that red Benz."
Fiction!
