 
# entangled affair

_(a collection of short stories)_

Uzezi Ekere Adesite
Published by Uzezi Ekere Adesite at Smashwords

Copyright 2015 Uzezi Ekere Adesite

This book is a work of fiction.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

# Table of Contents

Entangled Affair

To The Third Generation

Hunted

The Consequences

The Passengers

An Abomination

About Uzezi Ekere Adesite

Excerpts from The Call of Ciri (a novel)

Connect with Author

# ENTANGLED AFFAIR

_Silence had descended on everyone. They all waited, some with hearts in their mouths; especially the two at the front. Then the man of God proclaimed them man and wife, ending his words with; "What God has put together, none should put asunder."_

It was a wonderful wedding service. The reception was the ball of it. I couldn't contain the smiles that kept bubbling out of the inside of me. It was as though it were my happiest day. It was, sort of, because I succeeded in putting them apart.

Sitting here now, and looking back the journey we traveled together, I recognize just one day as the happiest I have ever had.

We had magic moments. The three of us did. But that day I witnessed my closest friends take the vows of being apart forever, tops all other magical days.

And again, I hear the words of the priest when he spoke. "What God has put together, none should put asunder."

I had smiled because I knew she would respect those words. She was very much in support of them. Even if it would rob her of her very happiness, she would always support those words, and she wouldn't put asunder what God has put together.

I had smiled. We became man and wife. And she was the chief bride's maid.

Chief bride's maid!

My friends; they were family to me. They meant everything to me. I would have killed if need be, just to protect those two. I would have dived upon a bomb if situation had called for, just to protect those two. Anyway, that was when we were friends. Before they betrayed me.

I used to be very happy. Nothing could bring me down. No matter how bad the situation was, I always smiled it away and wait for the sun after the rain.

That happiness ran away with the dawn of the discovery of sinful desires in the people I called friends; the both of them. They betrayed me. The beautiful heart of mine was made to become a house of fun for many evil desires.

The truth about the whole issue was that I never saw it coming. I am not the kind of person to preach this and practice that. How could I bring myself so low and let my mind abide in such bitter happiness that knows the secrets of what they intended my future to be?

Sitting here now, I am not a shadow of my former self, but I am a living lie. I don't care about that. My reason for living the lie I lived for so long got fulfilled today, so I am free to die now. God, won't you send them for my soul now? I won't ask for forgiveness and You dare not put me in Hell, for I acted, an eye for an eye. Just as You are a jealous God, so also I am a jealous friend.

Yes. I am not a shadow of my former self. It is only the mockery upon the face of my own reflection that puts me off.

I hear echoes from afar. I have been hearing them for long. Each day it gets closer. Soon enough it would be upon my doorstep. That echo I dread so much. The last I heard of it, it sounded twenty feet away. Very soon it would be here and my very last breath it would draw away. Not that I mind any. It would be the best situation. But it would be a miscarriage of destiny, for I foresaw my future and theirs. Wasn't supposed to be like this.

I just can't have enough of the drink. I am sure they are together this minute still professing love to one another. This drink has never tasted so good before. I am sure that my eyes are bloodshot. Who gives a fuck! It is my life right? It would be I who would answer the questions of the Lord on the Day of Judgment. "What did you do with the talent I gave you?"

How would I answer the Lord? "I delayed destiny my Lord. I held destiny back for as long as I could. Don't blame me. I am the daughter of Eve; only, I don't need a serpent to blame it on. Punish me!"

Well, didn't I start living the punishment since I was only a teenager? That's been long enough.

I feel my hand steady on the bottle as I pour more brandy into the tall glass. I feel like a baby. What was that? My head wouldn't act now. I think I heard the bell ring.

He couldn't have come back, could he? I feel the smile crawl all over my face. She was through with him. She didn't forgive him, which means, she didn't put what God has put together, asunder. What a darling she is. I knew I could always count on her. My dear friend.

ONE

Jumobi Adeniyi was driving like a cat from hell down Oba Akran Avenue. She simply ignored the traffic men at the junction as she took a sharp bend into Adeniyi Jones. She looked in her rear view mirror to make sure that they weren't coming after her. To her relief, they weren't.

She was late for the party. But that wasn't her hurry. It was their lives and she has to find hers. She thinks she has anyway. First thing tomorrow, she would pack. By noon, she should be on her way to Port-Harcourt. Maybe a new life would begin for her, and she would forget about her past.

She arrived and parked the car beside Alex' new BMW, alighted and stretched. The moon was already out. A full moon.

As she turned to walk towards the house, she noticed two people standing outside and under a shelter talking. She smiled. She almost married one of those guys last year.

*****

Alex had just stepped out of the house. He had seen Jumobi drive into the compound. He saw her stretch that beautiful five feet four inches body of hers and her short gown rode higher up her thighs. Petite Jumobi was pretty and ever smiling. He never understood why she settled for keeping her hair short all the time, when most ladies spent thousands of naira on their hair, because it was their crowning glory. Though he had to admit that he never saw short hair fit anyone like it did Jumobi.

He saw her look over at the two men at a corner and his heart twisted. He could imagine what she was thinking about Bolaji, the guy she almost married.

Bolaji wasn't his problem anymore. What was, was Jumobi's latest news. Before he left the office earlier in the day, she had told him that she was leaving for PH the next day. He knew who was in PH and he knew her going over meant she had thought over the issue. This evening, he would try to change her mind.

He began to walk towards her before she noticed him. He smiled at her. "You are late," he complained as he gave her a warm embrace. The only pleasure she has come to allow him since he decided their future.

"I was doing your job," she told him. "Didn't know Bolaji would be here."

He made a face. "She invited him and you don't look like someone to run away from yesterday."

"No, not that," she sighed. "I haven't seen him since..." she looked at him.

He understood.

They walked into the expensively furnished living room, hand in hand. The guests were just an association of close friends of the couple.

Chidima, looking very radiant in a red evening gown, walked from the other end of the room to meet them. She hugged Jumobi dearly, complaining how work was keeping Jumobi away from her. "But then, you are looking as young as ever."

"Why shouldn't I?" Jumobi asked with a smile. "I have to catch my own Mr. Right, don't you think?"

Chidima nodded with a smile. "Sweetheart," she faced her husband. "You wouldn't know if Caroline and Chuks are alright, would you?"

Alex hesitated. "Why?"

"They are in your study making a hell of a noise."

Alex rolled his eyes and excused himself.

"They are always fighting," Chidima complained to Jumobi, as she took her hand and they began to walk towards the kitchen. "Why did they get married if they can't handle their differences?" she sighed. "Marriage definitely can't be a rose gala always." She smiled at Jumobi. "That's their problem. Honey, I have been dying to see you."

Jumobi giggled. "Just a phone call away. And don't tell me the bills. Your husband is up to the task."

Chidima smiled. She pulled Jumobi into the kitchen and shut the door. She held her lower lips between her lips and sighed. "Guess what?"

Jumobi waited. She weighed her friend's mood. Then she laughed. She loved seeing her friend this happy. It gave her the joy that Alex was doing one thing right after one disastrous event in her life. She didn't envy Chidima. She, Jumobi, couldn't have it all. The division was fair and equal. "You are pregnant," Jumobi said as she clapped. It just dawned on her. She jumped happily and embraced her friend. "Oh God this is good. We have waited enough." She said, still laughing. Jumobi soon fell quiet when she noticed the excitement was on a one-way street.

Chidima smiled wanly. She never could tell how Jumobi's mind worked. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Oh God," Jumobi touched her forehead. "Forgive me. I didn't mean..." she stopped.

Chidima understood. "It's okay. I'm just twenty-seven." She shrugged and walked to the refrigerator. "At least the doctors keep saying the same thing," she said as she opened the fridge. "We are okay. A child will come soon."

Jumobi felt bad. "I've spoilt the evening with my big mouth."

Chidima returned with a cake and set it down beside Jumobi. She laughed. "It's okay really. I asked you to guess."

They were quiet. Jumobi looked at Chidima who was staring at the cake. She touched her friend on the shoulder and Chidima looked at her. "It's not what it seems right?" Jumobi asked.

Tears welled up in Chidima's eyes, but she smiled. "Are we crazy? It's my fifth wedding anniversary baby and I have a surprise for you." She was already at the other end of the kitchen opening the oven. "There's this guy I want you to meet."

Jumobi watched the activity. Could it be for over two years, they've been pushing their problems away? Because for that long, Jumobi has nursed the feeling that her friends weren't having a good married life. And just now, Chidima didn't answer her question. What was her friend talking about when she asked why Caroline and Chuks got married if they couldn't handle their differences? Chidima and Alex were handling theirs.

TWO

Jumobi is perfect. Everything a woman should be. She is so full of life and all. A lady who understands the game of life and is determined not be a loser playing it.

But I am going to make sure that she loses out of this. For this is my war!

Jumobi is every guy's dream girl. She has got all the qualifications with absolute distinctions. Her physical appearances just an unnecessary plus, because without it, her charisma remains and people would still love her.

We grew up in the same neighbourhood. We were friends. The three of us were. I hated it. Jumobi was the apple of everyone's eyes. That was fine, but I wanted her for me only. We didn't need to be three friends. Just Jumobi and I were perfect. How did we become three from two and ended up as one from three, pushing Jumobi out; for I pushed her out.

Our marriage is a façade. And she stood there as the chief bride's maid even as she buried her dreams at the vows that we took five years ago.

Before that happened, I used to indulge myself that Jumobi was mine and that I could win her back. But that was then. After the betrayal, all I got concerned about was putting them apart forever.

If I couldn't have Jumobi, he definitely wouldn't.

Jumobi had left Chidima alone in the kitchen. She was worried and they weren't helping her. Why won't any of them say anything to her? She should know why they weren't happy. If Chidima won't tell her, shouldn't Alex? Didn't he owe her that much?

She took a drink and settled into a sofa by the window. From where she was, she could see everyone. It was only when she turned away to look out of the window that he stole up to her.

"Need company?"

Jumobi looked up. She smiled. "Hi."

He bent and kissed her on the cheek. "You are looking very pleasant."

"Thank you," Jumobi tried to be relaxed with him. She tapped the space beside her and he sat down. "How's life?"

"Boring without you."

She sighed. "Bolaji please."

"Serious sweetheart. Why shouldn't we be married when we love each other?"

"Love is a big word," she pointed out.

"We had something good, darling. You know it," Bolaji was being serious. "Then on the night I was going to propose, you panicked. We can't go on anymore. Girl you almost ruined me. You just..."

"Please!" Jumobi cut in. "Do we have to go back?"

He hesitated. "I just don't understand the cold feet you developed."

She sighed. "I never lied to you. I cared, I did. But marrying you for those feelings only wasn't enough. We would have been through in two weeks."

He smiled. "There you go again," he said laughing. "Anyway, forget I brought it up."

She smiled thankfully.

He adjusted. "Let me tell you a truth ..." he stopped and looked around. "Chidima was mad at me that I couldn't marry you."

Jumobi frowned.

He smiled. "She cares about you. She really wanted us to get married. But then," he paused. "I was glad you ended it anyway."

Jumobi gave him an unbelievable look.

"True," he said. "When we eventually get married, it would be because of good intentions and love only and nobody's effort, cause I really realised how attached I got to you."

Jumobi didn't understand him. She was going to ask what he meant when he told her it was time they joined the others in cheering the celebrating couple.

*****

About an hour later, they were alone. An exhausted Chidima fell beside Jumobi and yawned. "What a day."

Alex came in from seeing off the last guest. From the doorway, his eyes caught Jumobi's hand picking something out of Chidima's hair. He shook his head. The women in his life. How did he get here? He only wished things had taken a different turn. They all could have been happier. Chidima wouldn't have had any reason to make his life so miserable.

He knew he could have prevented the misery of today they were all living in, if he had been strong enough then to tell the truth. They all would have gone their separate ways. He would have lost his woman, but that would have been better off than the life they were all living. Now here they were. Three friends. One couple. Two, knowing the secret that held the key to freedom for one. A freedom that comes with consequences.

He sighed and cleared his throat. They both looked his way and he smiled at them. He was used to smiling in his bitter situation. He did better than the bevy of beauties who forced the smiles during a pageant.

"You look jaded sweetheart," his wife commented as she got up to meet him. She stood before him and kissed him lightly on the lips. How happy she feels when she does this. "Are you hungry? I know you've not had anything."

And she knew he wouldn't refuse today either.

Alex frowned. "Food?" he thought. "Just get me salad and chicken."

*****

He sat down beside Jumobi after Chidima left for the kitchen. "Sorry about the evening."

She turned to catch his eyes. "Why is that?"

"Tell me you are comfortable and I will shut up," he sighed. "I know you hate it when she does that," he said. "I don't understand why she always has to introduce you to guys. I mean, does she think you are not chic enough to get a guy for yourself if you want?" he hissed. "Maybe you should tell her you are traveling to PH tomorrow for a possible positive outcome."

Jumobi just stared at him as he relaxed and started to unbutton his shirt. "I never complained about the people she introduced me to." She was sure she detected resentment in his voice earlier. "And she cares about me. She wants me to be happy," she added gently.

He chuckled. "Did you by chance tell her that you are not happy? That you are sad? What is making you sad? You don't have the love of your life with you?"

She opened her mouth. "What has come over you?" she asked him. He wasn't usually this way. It was the first time in five years, after he aborted the decision and they never talked about his reason. "You guys have problems, don't you?"

He leaned back into the settee. "Did you really believe that this marriage would work? Be truthful."

She thought of it. "Considering the reason you got married, yes."

He was disappointed. "I knew you always thought that way. From the very first day we got married, it has been hell!"

"Jesus!" she whispered.

He smiled wanly. "Don't think of it. It was my fault. We are used to living with it."

Jumobi was sure they definitely knew how to live with it. Five years of marriage and still counting. What she couldn't understand was that she saw love in them always. So they always acted before everyone. Why? "You love her Alex."

Despite himself, he laughed. "You should know the answer to that."

Jumobi was despising the evening the more. "I remember the enthusiasm when you guys told me you were getting married."

"A one sided enthusiasm. And I remember your hidden confusion because you never saw it coming."

That caught Jumobi off guard.

"I am sorry."

*****

Chidima returned with a tray that she handed over to her husband. She sat opposite them and looked from one to the other, wondering what they've been talking about that made Jumobi to be staring at her hands that lay idle on her thighs, like a timid schoolgirl. She hated to see them together, but she couldn't help it. Alex and Jumobi spent more time together at the office than she and Alex spend in their home. Her biggest problem was Jumobi. She knows what Alex wants. She knows what she wants, but Jumobi's desires were unknown and the unknown was scary.

Jumobi moved and yawned. "I think I should get to bed now." The silence was getting to her. Before, she never noticed it in them, but with what Alex had just revealed to her, she couldn't stand it. She regretted that Chidima talked her into spending the night.

Chidima got up happily. This night, she was scoring a point. "Your room is ready."

Jumobi said goodnight to Alex and made to get up, but he drew her back and kissed her on the cheek.

"That is a complete goodnight. I pray your sleep will be free of ghosts."

Chidima threw him a killing look at what he said but he didn't notice.

*****

Jumobi followed Chidima. Her mind wasn't at rest that she was here to stay the night. For five years, she had kept her distance away from them as best as she could. Yes, she and Alex worked together, but she controlled the extent their friendship went to. She saw Chidima more regularly at the times she knew Alex would be out. But one mistake she never did was to spend a night under the same roof with them. She never could bring herself to do it.

"We should be celebrating your spending the night here," Chidima's thoughts ran alongside Jumobi's. She opened the door to the bedroom and they stepped in. "I will get you a towel and a nightdress."

"Chichi," Jumobi stopped her. "Why don't you want to tell me what's wrong?"

Chidima hesitated. "There's another woman in his life."

Jumobi was quiet. Then she laughed uneasily. "That's absurd," she said. "No," she shook her head. "I know him and there is no woman. Where would he even have the time with the kind of work we do?"

"So he is lying to me? Because I am not a fan of assumptions. I didn't make this up. He told me himself."

Jumobi hated the way Chidima was glaring at her. "I don't know what to say."

"I do," Chidima put it. "Just why the hell didn't you marry Bolaji?"

Jumobi's mouth fell opened.

"Oh yes girl. That guy is crazy about you," she held up her hand when Jumobi wanted to say something. "Let me finish. You are going to say you don't love him. What if you can't get who you love? Won't you settle for someone who loves you? You are twenty-eight..."

"And still young, Jesus! Stop this." Jumobi sat on the bed.

Chidima sighed. "All I am saying is that I love my husband and I wish that we could be happy," she said gently. "That isn't too much to ask for."

Jumobi was quiet. What was Chidima driving at?

"I was reading this book just yesterday about a couple," Chidima continued. "They are the perfect definition of love. But for many years, he never told her the truth about the child he fathered. The circumstances would have driven her away from him if he had, or she would have forgiven him." Chidima laughed. "Love is funny, you know. Love should be truthful right? This guy was stupid enough not to tell her. Why?"

Jumobi buried her head in her palms and sighed. She hated parables and Chidima was using one now. "Oh God!"

Chidima smiled. "I will get your towel and nightdress," she said and left the room.

THREE

Jumobi gave up a lot for Alex and Chidima because she wanted them to be happy. Chidima especially, because she couldn't betray her friend.

They grew up together in the same neighbourhood. Alex was nine. Jumobi was seven and Chidima was six. They attended the same primary school also, but only Jumobi and Chidima were in the same class.

Because of his nature when he was younger, kids loved being around Alex, and the girls were his favourite because like him, they were very intelligent. He even gave them lessons most times.

Alex was soon removed from the school, when his mother couldn't continue with the high tuition fees. His father had died when he was six, and he had a younger sister that also needed the mother's attention. He went to a public school. From there he got a full scholarship to the secondary school. He was in the boarding house.

Alex then, would always write letters to Jumobi. Apart from the fact that they were friends, he liked her a lot. Whenever he was home for the holidays, he would spend a lot of time with her. She seemed more mature than her age. Anyone would think they were age mate.

It continued this way. He would always write to her. She never replied any. He was unconcerned about that. All he cared about was that he kept her in his memory by always writing.

As he grew up, he began to discover that his feelings for Jumobi were more than just feelings of friendship. He never had the courage to tell her, because he had no idea how she would have felt considering the fact that they were good friends.

Then one day at school when he was writing his final exams, he got a letter from her. The only one she ever wrote to him. The contents of the letter told him all he needed to know. She missed his presence. He made up his mind that he was going to make his move the next time he was home.

He got home and everything took a different turn. His courage failed him whenever he was with Jumobi. One day, he had gone out with fifteen-year-old Chidima. Jumobi had been on an errand and wasn't home when he called. Out with Chidima, he couldn't contain his excitement. Chidima noticed and they talked at length that afternoon.

*****

Jumobi had gone to Chidima's place. She wasn't home. Then she left to Alex place. She met his younger sister outside who said they were inside. She instantly knew Chidima was around. She entered the sitting room and it was quiet. She knew they were in his room. She headed for the room. They always spent time together in there. The three of them.

Jumobi knocked on the door lightly and pushed it opened without waiting for a reply. The shock that visited her was unexpected as the two figures on the bed jolted apart.

She was speechless at first, then quickly apologized and walked out. She went home, her heart forgotten. Her first heartbreak at sixteen.

*****

For months, Alex didn't go near Jumobi. He didn't have the heart. He didn't know what to say or how to explain what happened. She wouldn't believe him. He simply kept away from the street she lived in with Chidima. But Chidima didn't make it easy for him. She always came around, and he couldn't stop her. They were friends. She apologized about what happened the other day, and they forgot about it.

*****

Jumobi could avoid Alex, but she couldn't avoid Chidima. They lived on the same street and they were friends; even their parents were. She ran into Chidima at the chemist shop. Chidima would not look at her. Jumobi went over and said hi. Then Chidima smiled and they talked as if nothing happened. They walked back together.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jumobi said as she branched into her compound.

"Tomorrow?" Chidima asked.

Jumobi looked at her. "We are going for choir practice, aren't we?"

Chidima smiled. "I'm not. Have a date with my boyfriend tomorrow."

Jumobi giggled. "Your what?"

"Alex."

"Oh," Jumobi smiled and said goodnight.

She didn't see Alex again until he left for the university. Any news about Alex, she heard from Chidima. They were very close and everyone in their age group knew Chidima and Alex were an item.

One day, she got a letter from Alex. The first he would communicate with her since she walked in on him and Chidima. In his letter, he explained that nothing happened. They only got too playful. That he cared about her, Chidima was just a friend as always. He made a lot of promises Jumobi had to admit would be difficult for him to keep, because of Chidima. She knew how Chidima felt about Alex.

Chidima didn't know about the letter. Unlike before, Jumobi would tell her that Alex wrote. That was then. Now she had a sixth sense about such information and how to preserve her friendship.

Alex would come from school on vacation and Chidima wouldn't leave his side. He had to play along with her. He didn't have the heart to hurt or embarrass her. As for Jumobi, he knew she understood what was happening. Soon, he would get Chidima to grow up. So he thought.

Surrounded with lies and a friendship Jumobi and Alex knew was sham, they grew up.

Chidima would do everything to make Jumobi feel alive. She would introduce Jumobi to every guy. Jumobi simply wasn't interested in any of that. She simply concentrated on her studies. She was bent on leaving school with a first class.

Once they got into the university, she forgot all about Alex. There were too many activities to keep her busy. But most times, especially when Alex came to visit them at school and Chidima left with him, she would feel very lonely.

*****

About four months before her final exams, something happened. Chidima had traveled home to bury her maternal grandmother. Jumobi couldn't accompany her friend because she had to write a make-up test that she missed while she was ill and on admission.

Alex came to see her. He wasn't her best friend. She accommodated him because of Chidima. She couldn't be his friend because it hurt her a lot that her heart couldn't let go of him. But she knew she would never be the reason why he broke from Chidima. They were good together. She had admitted that much to herself over and over again as time passed and he stopped telling her what she didn't want to hear.

She had been surprised to see him because she knew he was aware that Chidima was away. "She isn't here."

"I know," Alex had said.

She was about leaving the room to be with another friend down the hall.

"I came to see you."

"Why?" Jumobi asked him. "You and I know that we are not friends. Chidima is not here. Why should we pretend we are something we are not?"

Alex had hesitated. Then he shook his head. "Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"Us."

"There is no us."

"You will convince me over dinner. After that I won't bother you anymore, if you so desire and we wouldn't have to pretend to Chidima either, because I will tell her the truth."

She had looked at him. Eventually, she gave in. She was also tired of the sham. Let Chidima know the truth that she and Alex weren't friends.

Dinner turned out differently. Jumobi heard what she couldn't believe about his relationship with Chidima.

"Then why have you been together so long?" she had asked.

He shrugged. "Chidima is fragile."

Jumobi laughed at that. They talked at length. She realised how much she missed him. They had stopped their conversations over the years because they couldn't come to terms with themselves.

While he was driving her back to school that evening, he told her he was going to tell Chidima the truth.

"Don't," she advised him.

"But I love you."

"I don't love you," she lied. What she wouldn't do was hurt Chidima. The girl was already planning their wedding.

Alex had stopped the car. "What?"

That had annoyed the almost twenty-three year old Jumobi. "What did you expect?" she blew up. "That I would sit and wait for you my whole life? First and foremost, we never had anything and will not have anything with each other. Chidima loves you."

"We are not talking about Chidima, but us."

"There is no us!" Jumobi threw.

"Then what happened to you?" he asked.

That stopped her. "What?"

"You've never had a boyfriend."

Jumobi fell silent, then she laughed. "You are right. I guess I am waiting for the right person."

"Me?"

Jumobi didn't say anything for long.

"Tell me the truth Jumobi. Tell me you don't love me. That you never did. And I will forget about you forever and settle for Chidima. All these years, I have suffered in silence, you have no idea and I can't tell you. Just tell me."

She sighed.

"I guessed as much," he whispered when she said nothing. "Come home with me," he added silently.

"I don't know."

"I do. She isn't here Jumobi. For years she kept us apart. We have now and forever, because I am through with living a lie."

He didn't drive her back to school. He turned around and headed for his place.

They needed no words. That night he made her a woman.

*****

With her heart in her mouth, Jumobi waited for the day Chidima would walk into the room red eyed and call her a betrayer. That day never came and she never saw Alex again after the morning he dropped her off at school.

Chidima had returned that very day and her life with Alex had continued. Alex didn't come visiting anymore, because Chidima started staying over at his place.

Exactly four months after the last time she saw Alex, they visited her in the hostel. Chidima had finished her final exams two weeks earlier. Jumobi still had one paper to go.

They visited her and after their departure, her life died. She wasn't sure what she had expected. She wanted Chidima to be happy, yet she wanted her dreams fulfilled. How could that be? She had sat dazed after Chidima in all her excitement told her that they were getting married.

"You're kidding," Jumobi said after a long hesitation.

Chidima laughed. "God, no. Ask him." she faced Alex. "Honey, tell her."

Jumobi met his eyes. He couldn't look at her. "Wow," she said.

Chidima didn't understand. "We wanted to surprise you."

"You did," Jumobi said, her eyes drifting to Alex. He wouldn't look at her again. She felt like a fool. He had gotten to her that night with words, just to get her on his bed and she fell for it. "I should be happy for you," she said gently.

Chidima had hesitated. "Are you alright?"

Jumobi nodded. "Just a headache."

"I have a favour to ask," Chidima said. "Will you be by my side? My Chief bride's maid?"

Jumobi opened her mouth. She looked at Alex. Was she going to be at the wedding?

"Oh my God, you are going to refuse!" Chidima almost cried.

That got to Jumobi. She forced a smile. "What? If I don't do it, who will?"

Chidima had smiled from relief.

Then the wedding came months later and Jumobi was convinced the more that Alex fooled her. He fitted with Chidima. She couldn't begrudge her friend. She hoped the marriage would be fruitful for her friends. Alex fooled her, but for Chidima, she would forgive him and move on with her life.

As they took the vows, she took hers. _"Do you Jumobi Adeniyi promise to let go of the memory of Alex Okafor, so that he can have a peaceful and happy life with Chidima Obiora, for the sake of your friendship?"_

In her mind she answered. _"I do."_

FOUR

Jumobi remained on the bed after Chidima left the room.

After school, employment had been hard. Chidima had convinced Alex to get her a place in his office. Jumobi tried to resist. She didn't want to be near him because she didn't want him to apologize to her. But what would she tell Chidima? The job was already waiting for her. Her parents heard of it and had thanked Alex profusely before she had even accepted it. She had no choice so they started working together. Thankfully, the job left them little time to talk. But gradually, the wall melted from her heart. She began to say hi with smiles, and somehow, the three friends from childhood returned.

As she sat there on the bed, she wondered what Chidima was getting at? Was she insinuating that Jumobi was the reason why they weren't happy? For one, Chidima never knew about her feelings for Alex. For another, Alex never loved her. And why did Chidima ask her why she didn't marry Bolaji? Was Chidima feeling insecure about her being single? "Why must Chidima think I am the destroyer?" she thought aloud.

And Alex had said earlier that they've not been happy from the beginning. Was that true? If yes, how did it turn out to be five years today? She buried her head in her palms. What were they doing to her? She raised her head when the door opened.

Chidima entered with a towel and a nightdress. "You would need a bath I suppose."

Jumobi watched her. For the first time, it dawned on her that Chidima was her friend, but she wasn't Chidima's friend. It's all been a pretense. Somehow the veil on Chidima moved, leaving the ugly countenance on her face naked. Jumobi shuddered.

Chidima dropped the towel and nightdress on the bed. She stood and crossed her hands across her chest.

"Why did you ask me to spend the night?" Jumobi asked, almost in a whisper.

Chidima bit her lower lip. "I want my husband."

Jumobi looked up into the cold eyes that were staring at her. "What..."

Chidima laughed. "I'm telling you he is in love with another woman and you say I lie."

"Chichi I ..."

"Let me finish!" she cut in as she turned away and walked to the window. "Alex doesn't know what he wants at his age," she turned around so she could see Jumobi's face. "You and I know that, don't we?"

Jumobi didn't say anything.

Chidima cocked her head to the side. "I thought we were friends. Very good ones?"

Jumobi shook her head in wonder.

"I should be relaxed that you are there to protect my back in my absence, shouldn't I?"

Jumobi stayed dumb.

"How could you allow my husband fall in love with another woman, Jumobi?"

Jumobi was getting tired.

"He doesn't love me. He never did. I have been living my life in hopes because I was too scared to accept reality that I can't have him. I did everything just to keep him with me." Chidima walked back and sat on the bed. "You know sweetheart," she placed her hand on Jumobi's shoulder. "If he had been... you know, maybe... interested in you once you see," Chidima swallowed. "I would have let go of my fantasies. We never would have married. I would have been satisfied you know, that I was losing him to you, but then ... but then, the circle of friendship preserved." She took her hand off Jumobi's shoulder and rubbed her palms together. She shook her head. "I'm obsessed with our friendship. I can't let another woman have him." She looked at Jumobi immediately, the daggers returning to her eyes. "You allowed him to fall in love with another woman."

"What are you talking about?"

Chidima got up and moved away from Jumobi. "You know. You spend more time with him at the office, so you must know this woman."

Jumobi couldn't believe what she was hearing. "There is no one! Oh my God, don't make me believe all your problems aroused from your assumptions. Assumptions could block your mind and damage your relationship."

Chidima giggled. "You are a fool!" she spat. "Are you deaf? There never has been a relationship! The only one time Alex and I ever had sex was that first time I spent at his place. Remember when I got back from my grandmother's burial?"

Jumobi stared at Chidima unbelievably as she felt her world stop. Had Alex been telling her the truth then? "What?"

Chidima looked away. "I lied."

"Wait, wait, wait," Jumobi tried to clear her head. "What are you saying? Lied about what?"

Chidima hesitated for long. "About Alex and I," she replied and started to bite her nails. "As much as I wanted, there was nothing."

Jumobi shook her head. She was shivering. It couldn't be from cold. "I don't believe you."

Chidima nodded. "That is because you don't care. How do we have children when we don't even sleep in the same room," she laughed. "I don't know if he told you, but he was telling me about a certain girl. And I was jealous. She wasn't you, she wasn't me. And, I always had my fantasies about him, so I tried to bring them to life." She cleared her throat and rested her back against the wall. "That day you walked in on us in his room way back, was the first time I tried to seduce him." Chidima laughed at the memory. "Imagine me at fifteen then." She shook her head. "But I was succeeding until you walked in. Then you left and he almost choked me," she gave Jumobi a queer look. "I kept on him. He knew I was crazy about him, and I was aware of the unknown girl. But then, I told him I didn't care as long as he doesn't leave me."

Jumobi's mind was running. She was sure she knew who the unknown girl was. He never lied to her.

"Then," Chidima continued. "I returned from that burial and he took me out that night." Chidima closed her eyes. "He told me that we had to stop the façade. That he couldn't live with the lie."

"Oh God!" Jumobi cried out. Her life was falling apart.

"So I felt I was losing him." Chidima told her friend carefully. She smiled. "I didn't know how I could have faced you with the truth. And I still couldn't think of it that another girl apart from us would have him."

Jumobi looked up. Her face was wet with tears. "What did you do?" she wanted to know. Those months, years back, that she waited for the bombshell from her.

Chidima smiled. "Got him drunk and had my way. God! The next morning he cried like a baby. He cursed me! I made him cheat on his girl," she squeezed her face at the memory. "That was the first and only time I have had sex. He wouldn't with me anymore."

Jumobi wanted to ask how they ended up married, but it was happening too fast.

"Those times you sensed something was wrong was when he came to me that he was tired."

"I find this hard to believe," she dried her face. "He doesn't love you. You got him to marry you and still together for five years?"

"Marriage was easy. I told him I was pregnant and my parents said we must be married. Then of course, I know what to say to make him do as I say."

Jumobi was learning too much. So she controlled him. Jumobi was getting disgusted. Who was Chidima? "Why are you against happiness?" she found herself asking.

"What I am against is our misery!" Chidima defended her act. "I did my part! You didn't! You work with him and you still let him love another woman!"

"I said there is no woman!" Jumobi yelled back.

"Why don't you just tell her the truth, Jumobi?"

They both stopped. Alex was in the room.

*****

"What truth?" Jumobi asked. She was breathing hard.

Alex held her gaze challengingly. "Tell her about the other woman in my life, the one I love."

"Alex, I don't know what you are talking about. I don't know any woman. I have always believed in the both of you. Today is too much for me to bear."

They were quiet.

"Okay," Alex said. "She knows the woman." He pointed to Chidima. "I told her, but she doesn't believe me. All what she is putting you through now, is a test because she wants to hear you tell her."

Chidima shook her head, looking from one to the other. "What are you saying Alex?"

He laughed. For the first time in another person's presence, she dropped _sweetheart_ or _honey_ and the likes of them. "You say you love Jumobi. You call her your friend, yet you kill her."

"Alex," Jumobi started.

"Don't let her get you," Alex warned Jumobi. "She is dangerous! For twelve years, she has shown me that much!"

Jumobi laughed despite herself. "Oh yeah?"

"Do you want a proof?" he asked her.

Now, that got Jumobi. A proof? She was listening.

"What proof?" Chidima asked, suddenly caught off guard. She thought Alex was crazy. If he broke down now, he would be the loser. She had nothing to lose.

"I wasn't talking to you," Alex told her.

Jumobi got up and grabbed her bag from the bed. "I think I should be on my way," she started for the door.

"And I am sure she asked you why you didn't marry Bolaji," Alex said.

Jumobi stopped at the door, just beside him. She looked at him. "What has that got to do with anything?"

Alex hated what was happening, but it was time Jumobi knew the truth. "Chidima had an arrangement with him. He was supposed to get you out of her way."

Jumobi shook her head as she began to see in twos. Then to her surprise, Chidima laughed. Instead of denying the fact, she laughed, still looking at Jumobi with an unconcerned attitude.

FIVE

Once upon a time, Jumobi was my friend. Then in the twinkle of an eye, she got so engrossed in the thoughts of Alex. He was writing her letters.

How could I have allowed that? We were three friends. They wanted to cut me out. They wanted me in the street, stripped off the protection of friendship.

I acted that afternoon. I never knew Jumobi would come over to Alex place. But I was happy she came because she believed what she saw.

Jumobi, the nice girl couldn't stop being my friend even as hurt as she was. Then I suspected she had erased Alex from her mind. So, I became her friend again.

In sincerity, I returned the friendship, until she betrayed me again. I had been looking for a pen in her school bag. She had gone to the staff room. I found the letter he wrote to her explaining what happened. I had been mad. She didn't tell me about the letter. And I felt like a fool because she knew the truth. That fueled my determination to put them apart, since they were bent on being together and leaving me out in the cold.

I never allowed Alex fulfill his promises to Jumobi. Fate was on my side. Or, how else would I have come this far without the assistant of fate? At every point, I had what to use on him. His secret.

I knew that sooner than later, Alex would gather enough courage to tell Jumobi the truth. And out of love, she would forgive him, because love does stupid things. So I acted.

Bolaji fitted the plans. We knew from school. One guy who always had the hots for Jumobi. What guy didn't back then? Even till now, they all want her.

Bolaji and I established a good friendship when I ran into him. Soon I knew all about his life and business. I could help him improve if he would help me take care of Jumobi. I told him she was lonely and scared of guys. After he started seeing her, I told him she loved him. That she told me, but that she was confused. I begged him. She is my friend. I want her to be happy. If he married her, I would help him get one important connection for his business. He believed me, but he failed at her. He failed because he truly cared about Jumobi and he saw that something was wrong somewhere. So he backed off.

I wouldn't have done anything, if Alex had been secretive as Jumobi. She tells me nothing. Not that they were sleeping together. Jumobi is too refined to take another woman's husband to bed. But then, I know they love each other's company so much. And he boasts about it to me a lot. One day he would get out of my bondage.

What could he do to make sure Jumobi never found out that he was the father of her nephew? That his action took a life?

How that event even came to be was still a mystery to him. It was Toyin who had made the pass at him. He couldn't blame her entirely anyway, because she had too much to drink that night at the club. And he also had been tipsy. His problem was that he could have been able to control himself. Their dancing together had gotten more intimate and they got kissing and they had gone out to the car and they made out.

Alex came to his senses immediately after but it was too late to take back what had happened. They were both embarrassed by it, because they knew they crossed a dangerous line.

After that day, they simply drifted apart. What happened was an issue between them that they couldn't live it.

Toyin was Jumobi's elder sister. They were course mates at school. Because they knew from home, they remained friends at school and always went out together whenever they felt up to it. Toyin wasn't into guys that much. She had broken up with her boyfriend two months before the episode with Alex at the club.

Then one day in class, from where she sat, Toyin passed a note to him that he should meet her outside. That it was very serious. He immediately reacted to the message. Since that night, all he and Toyin had said to each other were hi and hello. Why does she want to see him suddenly? He found out when he went outside to meet her. She didn't wait for him to get closer before she threw the words at him that she was pregnant.

"Wh... wh... what?" Alex had stammered.

She simply looked at him. "Don't stare at me that way. We have to do something?"

He was sensible enough not to ask her if she was sure he was responsible. Toyin was a good girl. He had remained speechless for long thinking how to handle the situation.

"I know Chidima is your girlfriend," Toyin had told him. "Although she is Jumobi's friend, she isn't mine. I don't want her shit. We have to do something."

He was going to open his mouth to tell her it wasn't Chidima but Jumobi. Then he realised what he almost did. Toyin would have killed herself to think she did that to her little sister.

The _something_ was to have the pregnancy terminated. They both agreed. Alex went about getting an appointment with a doctor who did such operations in secret; he was quite known to students.

But on that day, the pregnancy wasn't removed. Toyin had taken ill the night before and they decided to wait till she got better, since she was just five weeks along.

Unfortunately, her mother had visited and met her ill. The woman insisted that Toyin went to the hospital. Toyin couldn't talk her way out. Toyin got admitted and her mother got to know from the doctor that she was pregnant. That was the end of the plan for an abortion.

*****

Toyin remained tight lipped. She couldn't tell anyone. It was very disgraceful. How would her sister feel? Chidima was Jumobi's friend. They would simply drift apart because of Toyin's mistake. She couldn't tell anyone.

But then, Chidima found out. She had gone to Jumobi's place. From outside the door, she heard the argument inside. She listened. It was Alex voice. She couldn't believe it. Alex was responsible. She sensed nobody was in the house. She didn't bother to knock. She simply left.

She never told anyone what she knew. It was her treasure. It became a most priced treasure when Toyin died at child birth after losing so much blood. The whole family would have buried him alive if they had known that it was because of him that Toyin got to the labour room and died.

Fortunately for him, Dotun looked like his mother. But then, Alex lived in fear of his secret. It would have been easier, if Toyin had not died.

So Alex lived with his secret that nobody knew, or so he thought.

On one vacation from school, he had been under a lot of pressure from Chidima. She wouldn't stop pretending that they were dating. He begged her off. He told her the truth about Jumobi and she said she knew.

He had been shocked. "So why are you doing this?"

"Because I want you."

"But I love Jumobi, don't you understand?"

Chidima had looked at him long. "If you did you wouldn't have done what you did."

He had been confused. "What did I do?"

"Dotun is your son. Toyin told me."

Alex had been speechless. He didn't know if to believe her. Toyin couldn't have told her, but he couldn't prove that. The girl was dead.

"Let's don't make matters worse. What would it take for you to be my boyfriend?"

He almost screamed at her, but he thought twice.

She had smiled. "Okay just pretend. Please."

He never knew her gain from depriving Jumobi. And he never told Jumobi; because she never would have believed it that her friend didn't want her happiness. It sounded absurd.

There were times he had wanted to spill the truth out to Jumobi's family. Then he would remember how Jumobi's mother swore the day her daughter died and he would develop cold feet.

He relived his punishment anytime he saw Dotun. His son. Alex got used to living with his secret. And he got used to Chidima. All he believed was that one day, he was going to tell the truth and free himself off her. She was more dangerous than the devil. Or how else could he explain how she remained at his side always whenever he was around from school. She never left him alone in a room with Jumobi. It got to a point that his precious Jumobi started to stay away from him. She told him that she loved Chidima. She wanted Chidima to be happy. They had a good relationship, he should forget about her. There was nothing he could say to change Jumobi's mind.

Then he had his opportunity when Chidima traveled to bury her grandmother. He thanked God that Jumobi had a make-up test, else she would have gone with her friend. He had taken that opportunity and had still messed it up. What he intended to do that night was tell her the truth, but he couldn't. It was one night he should enjoy with her, not cry over.

*****

Then Chidima came back and somehow, she got him to take her to bed. The next morning he chased her away from his place. He couldn't see Jumobi with the guilt of what he did. Chidima came most time, but he would chase her away. He realised she didn't return to the hostel, but to a friend's place in town. He cared less. She never said anything, until the day she came to tell him she was pregnant and wouldn't terminate it. He knew he was trapped. It was either he married her or his secret poured out. She told him. He almost chose his secret, but he thought about not having Jumobi anymore. If he married Chidima, Jumobi would still be there for him. She would be hurt but would overlook it all because they were all friends.

It worked. Jumobi never said anything to him. She never questioned why he changed his mind about telling Chidima about them. She was more concerned about hurting Chidima than she was about her happiness.

Then they started working together. Chidima did that to taunt them. They had been working together for three weeks and Alex was getting more restless because she was keeping her distance. Worse was the fact that she moved out of Ikeja, where her family was to Akoka. He felt she was purposely keeping a distance between them.

Jumobi was clearing her desk to go home when he walked into her office one day to talk to her. She had smiled at him. Well, he was used to that. She always smiled at him.

"Hi," she said. "I thought you had left."

He hesitated as he watched her, wondering how he lost her. He wondered if it was his destiny that he should never have her. "Waiting to talk to you."

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. "Hope nothing is wrong."

"Us."

Then she turned away from him. "I don't want to talk about it," she faced him and folded her hands. "Don't get me wrong. I am not mad at you. You guys are my friends and I want you to be happy."

"And you?"

She smiled. "I am a big girl. I can handle me well."

He had nothing else to say. He couldn't say he didn't feel anything for Chidima; else he would have explained how they ended up married.

*****

They continued that way. In his presence, she started to date other guys and he bled inside. But he couldn't tell her not to have a life. He made his choice. And she never knew his pains and his bondage. If only he could tell her! But telling her had its own consequences. He tried to stay contented with the fact that they were friends. Each day, they broke a wall and got closer. Having her as a friend made him forget about his bondage, for he spent more time with Jumobi. Gradually, she warmed up to him again and they never talked about the past. To her, he was happily married.

Anytime she saw a sad look upon Chidima's face, she would question him as a very concerned friend, but he would always tell her that they were fine. He didn't know when it happened. It started like a joke and she got so serious with Bolaji. It was Chidima who encouraged her. She said everything good about Bolaji and pushed Jumobi harder. Then as suddenly as it had started, it ended. He couldn't have been happier. He never asked her why because Chidima told him why. Jumobi was still waiting for him. Alex had laughed. He didn't believe it. He lost Jumobi a long time ago. They were very good friends alright, working together and all that, but that was where it ended.

*****

The day had really been disastrous. He knew what his wife was up to when she convinced Jumobi to stay the night. Chidima had gotten so restless of late that he felt she was tired of the life they were both living.

He had pushed his dinner away because he couldn't eat it. He hardly ate at home. It was occasionally when he was in a good mood that he ate. And he was in a good mood during the party, because Jumobi was close by. Then she took Jumobi away into the room and his mind kept running wild, wondering at the kind of friend his wife was.

So he had decided to go to bed early. He always slept in the spare room. But since Jumobi was around and the other room wasn't arranged, he would have to bear sharing a bed with Chidima. That was her plan. The reason Chidima would ask Jumobi to stay the night, was so that she could get Alex to sleep with her. The conniving bitch! Sweet Jumobi would always refuse like a good girl. But tonight, Chidima had her nailed. Jumobi had shaken her head.

"I can't stay the night," she had told Chidima. "I have to pack for my trip."

Chidima had looked over at him. "Honey, won't you ask her to stay? It is as if she is angry with me for a reason I don't know."

"What?" Jumobi laughed. "You can't be serious."

"My best friend has never slept in my home," Chidima told her. "You always refuse outright. Is there something here that chases you away? Ghosts?"

Alex had seen the creeps on Jumobi's face and he knew the answer. The reason she had always stayed away. He was the ghost.

"She is busy, you know that," Alex told Chidima.

"Just a night? Please?"

"Okay," Jumobi gave in.

And the result was the discovery of that night. How Chidima had manipulated her with her talks.

SIX

They were quiet. It was about 1:15am and the moon was high and full.

Alex drove the jeep. Jumobi was beside him. He knew she wasn't sleeping. The look on her face was very far away. He wanted to say a lot to her now, but he was scared. That was the problem. For over eight years, he had been scared to say the truth about Dotun and live his life freely.

He got on Mobolaji Bank Anthony road and kept on at his speed. So many thoughts were running through his mind. He must tell her the truth. It is either she forgave him or she didn't. If she doesn't forgive him, well, he would be out of Chidima's bondage. That would be a little consolation.

*****

Jumobi got out of the car and started towards her front door. She didn't wait to know if Alex was coming after her. She didn't even collect her keys from him, because he might want to go back with the jeep.

The dizziness that washed over her when Alex had earlier told her about Chidima's deeds, passed quickly and she had recovered from the shock. She told them she was leaving that she couldn't spend the night there. Chidima said nothing. Alex offered to drive her home, she refused. He practically forced the keys out of her hand saying she was in no mood to drive.

She allowed him to drive her home. Now, as she opened her door, she stopped to look back. He was still standing by the driver's door of her ride. Their eyes met. She looked away. What was the use? It was either he spent the night here or at a hotel, because she knew he wouldn't go home. How she had been so wrong about his life. Instead of friends in love, he and Chidima had been enemies at war.

She stepped into her sitting room and left the door opened. At the moment, there was nothing to say to him.

She went straight to her room and threw off her clothes. She was going to have a cold bath first, then her head would be clear enough to think of what happened in the last few hours.

*****

He locked the door behind him. She wasn't in the sitting room. Alex threw the keys on the table and sat down on the couch. He was fighting the urge to make a decision to tell her the truth. His fear was losing her completely. Wasn't that why he easily allowed Chidima to manipulate him? Because he didn't want to lose Jumobi forever? He always knew it wouldn't be forever. What annoyed him now was that he could have prevented the latest events if he had been strong. The worst that would have happened was that they all would have gone their different ways; for Jumobi would have seen who Chidima was. Not a friend.

Alex unbuttoned his shirt and relaxed properly. He was prepared to face his demons.

*****

She left the bathroom and went straight to bed. She needed to sleep. Her head was aching. From her bedside drawer, she got out pain killers and left the room to get water from the kitchen.

She had not switched on the lights when she entered, so the sitting room was dark. But then, she didn't miss the figure that was spread out there in her sitting room. At first, her memory refused to react, then before she could be afraid, she remembered she returned with Alex. Jumobi sighed. She went over to the wall and switched on the light. He had drifted into sleep, waiting for her.

She stood there, watching him and wondering what they did wrong that inhibited them from being together. Wondering why Chidima turned out to be a girlfriend from hell. Jumobi sat down. The drugs in her palm forgotten. She was downcast.

"I'm sorry."

She looked at him. She had been wrong. He wasn't sleeping. It was the second time in less than three hours that he was apologizing to her. "What for?"

He sat up. "Everything."

She stared at him. She couldn't believe that at this time of the day, they were together in her apartment. "Why did you marry her if you never loved her?" she asked.

Alex sighed. The moment of truth has arrived.

"What does she have on you?" Jumobi asked.

He kept quiet.

"Won't you tell me?" she asked near tears. "Don't I have the right to know why my life turned out this way without the man I love? Alex? Don't you want me to believe that you had no choice but to go along with her, by telling me?" Jumobi was crying. "I always believed that you fooled me that night, just to sleep with me."

He shook his head. "Oh God Jumobi, what do I do?"

"Just talk to me, please," she begged him. "For me to find out now that my friend hates me so much? Oh Alex, please talk to me."

He remained silent for a while. He was going to tell her everything. Whatever the outcome, so be it.

*****

She couldn't sleep. She had gone to her room after he told her everything. She had cried and her tears were finish. She packed her things. She would go to Port-Harcourt. That was what she wanted to do before everything started. She didn't want to think of what would happen if she returned. Her parents. How could she know about Dotun and not tell them? That precious little eight-year-old boy that they all cherish. How could she know that and not tell her family?

I stagger to the door. I am amazed. As I open the door, I notice that it is daylight. But then, it hasn't been so long since he drove Jumobi home. And now it is day? And see, it isn't him that is standing at the door. It is his little sister. Why is she looking at me like that? I leave her at the doorstep and walk back the way I came. She knows her way round the house.

I sit down and watch her move away in the direction of the rooms. I wait. Minutes later, she returns with his bag. She came to pack a bag for him. What is the use of asking the girl where he is? With her of course! My friend, my enemy, the betrayer.

She has gone and I am alone again. I did nothing bad. Any woman would have acted like me. I am bitter. I am sad. Where is the echo I heard at the doorstep? Come and take the last of my breath. Can't wait no more. Jumobi has refused to be mine. She has made her choice.

#  TO THE THIRD GENERATION

Looking out of the window that morning after my world fell apart for the second time because I revealed my secret to them, I couldn't help but wonder if that was the day picked; the day that my mother would finally fulfill the best threat she has always made to me in a promise.

As the tongue of dawn began to lick at the remaining dark clouds in the skies, light started to fill up and with it came the deep sense of abandonment. Unlike the dark clouds that can be consoled for being forced to give way for day, since they will return at the appointed time to take their place again in the skies, my situation was worse because I cannot be consoled and my future for the first time in my life was unknown.

With eyes downcast seriously studying the shape of my feet, I allowed my mind to wander back to the morning months ago when I had woken up with a feeling that something definitely was amidst. I call that morning the beginning of my troubles. Though precarious I had been, my intuition kept arousing my curiosity. Though I do not have the power of precognition, I did feel soused with anxiety that something was definitely out of the ordinary.

On the day of the beginning of my troubles, I had tried to work my mind backwards to that appropriate time when the illusion first sank on me that something had gone sour. This is what happened to me back then, that morning, when I decided to take that backwards journey and after I made the decision.

Back Then

Stopping somewhere in my backwards journey, I was shocked to realise that I was afraid. Yes afraid. I asked myself if I really wanted to go back to that appropriate moment when my world really crashed around me. Daunted silly I hung about where I stopped in my backwards journey. I inhaled slowly, savouring the sweetness of temporal peace, where poignancy had no business. But I knew it would never last. No matter how much I savoured the sweet caress of this borrowed time, still I would face whatever was on the other side when I finally woke from my reverie of cowardice.

Pacing up and down and about, with my mind working overtime, I was scared. Should I take a step forward and fidget about wondering of the unknown that I dither about, or should I take the bold step back to scrutinize that action which has landed me in this mood of precariousness?

My mind told me yes my body said no. Unfortunately, I knew not to what my mind was agreeing about, just like I knew not to what my body was disagreeing about. Forward or backwards? It was more of a burden than I dreamt.

Instead of going backwards, I went forward and wondered what on earth was out of place. And due to my uncertainty, I washed it down with a glass of water and placed it aside as waking up on the wrong side of the bed. After all, everyone had a blue day. This was mine. Maybe, just maybe, my imagination was playing a trick on me, making me believe that I had tempted the peace of a dawn.

I closed my eyes and turned them away from the window where my pacing about had led me to. By the time I opened them, they fell on my worn out typewriter. The feeling of ease that washed through me is like what that missionary talks about; the peace experienced when God finally answers a prayer of forgiveness. It is like that peace of that God's mercy, because I didn't have to avert my gaze when I was still looking out of the window. Averting my gaze would have made me a big coward. So like the sensible person I am, I closed my eyes and maneuvered them away from my downfall.

I walked into the room. All will be well in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. I borrowed the tune of that preacher that dresses in white, in a house he decides to call a church. If there is life hope is definitely at the corner, waiting to be recognized and embraced. The things we learn on a daily basis increases with the foreigners in our village.

Hardly had I braced myself on taking the bull by the horn by being a coward, when the storm came knocking on my door.

*****

If I had known, I would have completed that backwards journey and probably I would have saved myself this tragedy because I would have done something on realising where my precariousness had sprung.

When she came, she looked at me as though I was more the meaning of the word 'useless'.

I couldn't think of what I had done to be paid by that look, I shrugged.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

I didn't fail to realise the tone she used on me. Normally, whenever she borrowed that tone, I went numb. At those times, I waited with big jitters for the tone to come, because I had done something wrong. This was different because I didn't feel numb. I was ready to ask what she was talking about. I opened my mouth to ask, and my mouth opened. Unfortunately, the words of questioning were stuck. I was later to thank my stars that those words didn't come out. It would have aggravated matters. The ancestors of my forefathers watch over me. But I maintain, had I completed that backwards journey, my words wouldn't have been stuck, because that tone wouldn't have been used, and because, she wouldn't have come knocking on my door, accompanied by the storm, all because before then, I would have done something to correct an action of the past that so easily evaded me, leaving me in this sanctuary of precariousness that I find myself.

"Omote, am I talking to you or what?"

My eyes fluttered to hers. "I don't understand." I spoke gently, so as not to tempt her red spirit.

Her mouth opened in surprise. "You don't know what I am talking about?" The look of incredulity in her eyes made me wonder why I stopped that backwards journey. My intuition did tell me that something was amidst.

I shook my head from side to side as my memory went into late action, of recalling my evil deed.

"Omoteowore, I could kill you now!" she threw.

I hate that name. I love the abbreviation, Omo. It sounds better. My teacher calls me Omo because it is easier. My friends all call me Omo now and I like it. He, even calls me Omo. I looked at her, wondering what I have done. This woman looks set out for me.

Her eyes were blazing, as she looked me up and down.

"I carried you inside of me for nine months. I was aware of you growing inside of me from your very first day of conception. If I had wanted, I could have made an appointment with one of the many grandmothers, one would have definitely given me the liquid to drink considering whom my parents were, and you wouldn't be standing here today. So, when I say I could kill you, my words are never mere threats."

I didn't plan on smiling when Onime was talking to me, believe me I didn't. It's just that, I have heard those lines a thousand and one time before, and the words always remain mere threats; but honestly, the first time I received those lines, I had developed feverish conditions. But now... I saw her eyes narrow.

"Omoteowore, I am talking and you are smiling."

I did the downward movement as though I was about to kneel; the elders say our generation lack respect. We find it difficult getting down on our knees. All we do is bend our waist a little, and stand erect again.

She eyed me at my movement. "Is your waist hurting you?"

Stupid me. Before I could stop myself, I did the movement again. "No, Onime." I figured she was about to say something harsh judging from the way her hands gesticulated before her mouth opened. Then her hands fell to her sides and she shook her head. "This time, I am going to kill you." She snapped her fingers at me, and left the room.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I quickly dove back into memory, to see if I had a chance of saving myself. Judging from that countenance on her face, she might as well make true her words and kill me.

*****

The day had begun like any other normal day. I had woken up and attended to my domestic chores. After which I picked up my cutlass and went behind our two roomed small house, to weed around my precious tomatoes that stood a little distant away from the bathroom and the toilet. I believed by that time my mother must have gone to the market because since I woke up till the time I went out to weed my tomatoes farm, I didn't set my eyes on the beautiful woman who is my mother.

It must have been thirty minutes of none stop weeding, or so – Onime always said my farm was the only thing I cared for – before I was brusquely interrupted by him. I could swear that I never heard him. He must have stolen the footsteps of the fallen angel that preacher calls the Devil; who crawls on the vulnerable and idle ones without warning. He interrupted me as I said. Not that he laid a finger on me or anything pertaining to that; Onime would skin him alive dare him try. I was turning the soil, when his shadow fell over me and my cutlass. I didn't panic. Why should I? My ambience is such that offers nothing to fear, everything to be secure about.

Although I knew I had company, I didn't straighten up to see who my companion was because I was waiting to hear the voice so I could order my brain to work out who was adorned with that voice. I love putting my intellectual to test; Onime always said she did that a lot in her youthful days. She is a strange woman, my mother is; a very extraordinary woman who has been through a lot.

"Omo my sweet, won't you say good morning?"

I have seen a bird which was hit by a stone tumble down. I don't know if to describe the fluttering movement of my heart in that sense. That voice could belong to none other than he himself. Dare I stand straight to say a simple good morning, and the next time my mother picked up this cutlass, its mouth shall say all that its ears had witnessed this day and Onime would make good of her words and kill me; after all she carried me for nine months. She's warned me from the very first day I was rejected which was before I was born to stay away from him.

"Omo, come on. I know your mother is out. I saw her at the market, and decided this was a good opportunity to see you."

I remained mute.

"I know your mother has told you terrible things about me, Omo," he said slowly. "I'm not that bad, won't you give me a chance? You are old enough to tell what sort of influence I'll have on you. If you want me gone, then I'll go."

I straightened up and straightened my knee length skirt that was glued to my young body. "Then go away. Please." I looked into his eyes.

He reached for my free hand, and held on tightly. "Don't you want to know me?" His voice was low and wore a painful sound.

"I know who you are," I told him in a calm voice. I love looking into his face. I never met a finer man till the day I met him, and since that day, I'm yet to meet one who'd surpass this ebony skin god in terms of beauty or intellect. He inspired me from the day I discovered he was a writer and a teacher at the Community Grammar School. And I had to understand why Onime forbade me to attend that school; because he was there and because she knows like I know and like he knows that he could easily steal me away from her. Love is a strange thing. That would kill my mother; I am the apple of Onime's eyes, her only pride and richest possession.

He smiled. That smile that captivated me the very first day I met him without any knowledge as to who he really was. Then without warning the smile faded, and I read his anxiety. "I need to talk to you before I leave this village."

My heart echoed my exclamation. My resistance of not wanting to talk with him slipped and I made my cutlass aware that I cared not what it reported to Onime. He was going away. "Leaving?" My voice shook.

He nodded without saying a word. I saw it in his eyes that he didn't trust his voice any longer. This was a vulnerable moment for him. It touched my heart to discover this way that he really loves me.

"What about me?" I asked anxiously.

He smiled wanly. "I will always write to you."

"But...but I...just found you. You can't leave now." I didn't realise I was crying till he put his arms around me and muttered consoling words.

*****

"Omoteowore!" The shoving jostled me out of my reverie. "All of a sudden you've gone mute?"

I sat up slowly and looked at my mother vaguely. "Onime," I did the knee movement again.

A finger pointed at me rudely. "Don't Onime me like some village child. You call me mother or mama or better still mummy. That is what the town children call their mothers. Onime!" she mimicked and hissed. "I'm off to the market. If you like let him in." She eyed me. "When I return, we will settle our score."

I stared at the closed door. She was gone. I quickly got out of bed and dressed up. I must find him before he leaves.

*****

I was on my way going to see him. I didn't want to think of yesterday, about him and myself, but the thoughts came all the same.

His consoling words as I cried at the thought of not seeing him calmed me down a bit. "Are you sure?" I had inquired like a child who has been told that her dead mother was only sleeping and would wake up soon.

He smiled convincingly, "I promise you."

"How?" I had wanted to know.

"Just trust me," he had said as he put an arm around me and walked me out of my tomato farm.

I completely forgot Onime warned me never to let him near me. Never to let him into our home. But at that moment all I could think of was the fear of not seeing him again. How could I have possibly remembered Onime's warning, when this man means so much to me that I could not afford to lose him?

He led the way as though he were the occupant and I the visitor. Once inside, and after he was well convinced that I was very composed, he let me into the reason why he had to leave.

My smile had known no boundary. "I am very happy for you."

He nodded and almost immediately his countenance fell. "I wish I could take you with me, Omo."

I had hesitated. "Of course you can, and I wish you would." I knew not if I sounded desperate saying that.

He had looked at me with eyes so full of affection, that at that moment I truly believed that he loved me tenderly. How could Onime be so refuted? He then came closer to me and took both of my hands in his. "What about your mother?"

Another hesitation on my part. I didn't think of the woman before saying he could take me. "My mother?" I asked. "She will be fine I guess." I had hoped I sounded unconcerned.

"Omo, she's all you have in the world, all you've ever known," he reasoned with me, not because he was seeking an excuse for leaving me, but because it was the right thing to say. Normally, he wouldn't care about Onime, but he cared about me and what concerned me, like my mother, should concern him also.

"I have you," I insisted.

"You are all she has Omo," he said quite too gently, that I had to look at him suspiciously. Was he thinking of her or me? "You are the only reason she's living. You brought sunlight into her world, and the sun is still very bright. I don't want to alter that."

The surprise on my face was obvious and he opened his mouth to speak, but I raised my finger because I had something to say. "How come you are thinking of her? She's had me all my life, now she should be willing to let me have someone else, someone like you; someone who would make me happy. You think so right?"

He fell quiet.

He must have heard my heart beat accelerating against my will as I got to my feet to be far from him. "If you don't want me, why did you come here?" My back was to him.

"How can you say that I don't want you, Omo?" He sounded hurt, and I turned to face him. "I do want you Omo. I would give anything to have you with me but, I wouldn't do that to your mother. She doesn't deserve such treatment. She's been good to you and indirectly, to me, because if she hadn't borne you, I never would have you."

"She doesn't know you think this much of her," I dropped on him.

He raised a brow. "Take that back! I don't think much of your mother."

That hit me in the wrong place. "You don't think much of my mother?" My voice trembled on the grounds of uprising anger.

"Why should I? Look at the way she treats me, the way she feeds you with lies," his voice was rising. "If I really want to hurt her or get back at her, to put the words more appropriately, I would take you with me and there will be nothing she will do to me."

My irritation was now at its surface. "You think you can just walk in here and talk that way about my mother, Onime? How dare you!" I threw.

He sobered up at my tone. "I'm sorry Omo. It's just that your mother really has annoyed me."

"Oh! And you I guess, you haven't annoyed her, right?" I had sighed. "Why am I even listening to you, or how did it come about that I let you into this house, going against my dear mother's words?" I had marched to the door and had thrown it opened. "Please, leave!"

He stood there looking at me. After a while he released a deep breath. "We shouldn't be fighting Omo, we don't have much time. I'm leaving tomorrow," his words were gentle.

"I love my mother. Onime, is all I've got!" I insisted, beating at my chest as though he was arguing the fact. "It is wrong for you to speak rudely of her to my face." I shook my head. "Apologize. Tell me you didn't mean the words you said. That Onime is worthy of anybody's praises, including yours."

He laughed. Not nicely. Then he shook his head. "Your mother is good for you, I don't deny that. I said that earlier when explaining why I couldn't take you with me. But no, she isn't worthy of my praises. I won't say words to please you."

"Then get out!" I yelled at him. "Don't ever come back. I disown you!"

He winced. "Your words Omo, you're so uncouth," he shook his head as he approached the door. "What sort of upbringing will a child like you receive from a mother like yours? I thought I could change you but I see you are another version of her."

My mouth opened to throw a suitable insult at him, but his departure beat me to it.

*****

I was so furious. I love that man. After Onime, he counts next, and there he stood attacking me as though I were a stranger. I looked around, seeing nothing to interest me I fled into the safety of my room. The first thing I saw on entering my room was the typewriter he gave me. My mother had allowed me to keep that gift of his because she saw that the only way it would affect my life, would be in a positive way. He had given it to me because he got a machine better and faster. Staring at the typewriter consoled me. I made up my mind to forget what just happened. I made up my mind, not to think of following him because he would always make me angry, whenever he spoke rudely of Onime. I decided to be content that I had him. We don't have to have that relationship; the kind that mother and I have. Onime shouldn't hear about this, she would skin me alive. First for disobeying her, and secondly, for having the guts to tell her that I disobeyed her. She wouldn't blame him, she would blame me. If I hadn't disobeyed her, he wouldn't have said those words that made me angry. I can always predict my mother.

That evening, when Onime had returned from the market, I left the house to visit with friends and by the time I returned, she had gone to bed. I went to bed too feeling so well with myself. I didn't try to figure out his attitude when I met him at the village center minutes back. I ought to have known but I was too engrossed with the attention the young men were throwing my way, to bother why he was fidgeting about restlessly, like a cow that was gestating.

Then this morning I had woken to the awkward feeling of queer precariousness. If I had completed my backwards journey before Onime had come into my room, I would have gone to her to tell about what happened between the man I love so much, and myself. But I did not because last night, I've had such a wonderful time with my friends. This morning I forgot about yesterday. What actually hit me as strange was the fact that my mother didn't come into my room to wake me up; I sleep like a log of wood. She didn't wake me up, so I overslept. I finally woke up and she had done all my house chores; a perfect sign that she was angry with me. I knew she was angry but I knew not what of because I forgot. Now I know. Somehow, she heard of what happened yesterday.

What were her words again? "I am off to the market, if you like, let him in. When I return, we will settle our score." Those were her words. There was no denying the fact that she was talking about him. How did she find out?

*****

Following the short cut; there are lots of them everywhere to anywhere in the village, I dragged along the path that led to his house. He mustn't leave yet. The house was in view now. I felt the excitement rush through me. He always made me feel those feelings. I wish he wouldn't leave me. I know I'll be lonely without him; although I have this other young man, the feelings are different.

I tapped gently on the door. I tapped again, no response still. I turned the handle and it gave way. I stepped into his well-furnished office like sitting room. He wasn't there. I sat down. It's possible he had gone outside to get something. I was there lost in thoughts of what to say to him after the way I'd treated him yesterday. Breathing deeply, I decided he would understand. He had to understand that I reacted out of anger. My mother was been walloped in my presence. My head shot towards the closed door of his bedroom. I thought I heard something, but it could be my imagination. Was he in? I heard voices. Imagine the load of laughter. Then, oh! I heard my name! Another explosion of laughter! I was on my feet and approached the door. I turned the handle and walked into the room. My eyes popped! Unbelievable! Two people in bed together. How could he break my heart this way? And she too? She knew how I felt about him.

I rapped on the door furiously.

They jolted up and apart immediately. Both of them naked; thankfully her wrapper was covering some part of them.

"Omo," she said nervously.

I noticed she has abandoned Omoteowore for now. I turned and returned the way I came into the sitting room, out of the house, and back home into my room. As always, the first thing I saw was the bloody typewriter. Angrily, I picked it up and flung it against the wall. I heard the fast approaching footsteps. Soon the door to my bedroom opened with jitters.

"Omo."

"Don't talk to me!" I hissed. Opportunity presented itself not always. While I have this one, I wouldn't waste it. Who would have dreamt that I would one day have the audacity to snap at my own mother, the same who always promised to kill me? "Don't even mention my name!" All my piled up anger for all she has deprived me off, surfaced. She shooed me away from him, so she could be with him. He came here, insulted her the way he pleased, just to get me into a wax, and went behind my back to tell Onime how I insulted him, and she would wander into my room making my skin crawl.

"Omo, listen. You don't understand," she started in an unsure voice. "I can explain."

I shook my head. "I don't want an explanation!" I yelled as my voice broke and my eyes couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

Mother came towards me. She held me to herself. "Omo, you know I love you. What we are trying to do is give you what you should have. We ought to have done it a long time ago, but he was just selfish. We are trying to make amends." She looked at me. She continued when she saw I was listening. "Your father loves you."

"You hate me!" I yelled. "Both of you hate me! You punish me always because of him. I just hate him so and I hate you!" I pushed her hands away.

"Only yesterday, Omo, you were angry because I said things about your mother. Now you hate her? And oh, look at my typewriter." It was him alright. He approached the typewriter with a pained looked on his face. Bending over, he began to stroke it.

I went out of the room knowing they wouldn't dare to stop me. I was in control. I did wake up to that feeling that something was not right. I found them in bed together. That was the evil sign I had earlier. Now I know.

Imagine the market she went to everyday. The market was right in the middle of the bedroom; on the bed.

I walked. No destination in mind. I just listened to the voice of my feet and obeyed. My mind I blanked out because I didn't want to invite thoughts. Should I be happy for my parents? I wondered, knowing every child's dream was to live happily with both parents; especially one like me who just turned sixteen.

*****

Aseba is her name. She is my mother, whom I call Onime; meaning my mother in Isoko. She is thirty-two years old. If I am sixteen, then she must have had me when she was sixteen also. A pretty young age to have a child. But then, in their time – and even now – girls marry early or had children early. It is one of those areas where the girls here claim that they are more advanced than the city girls. The difference here is Aseba wasn't given away in marriage to anyone. She got herself pregnant, bringing shame on the good name of her parents.

My grandfather, Aseba's father, was a well-known man in the community. A man, whose grandfather at the time of the introduction of Christianity was quick in denouncing it because it taught against the ways of our ancestors. The respect the community had for him rubbed off on his descendants. A man, whose grandfather, was known throughout the village and the stretches of villages across as an indomitable warrior. The fear they had of him rubbed off on his male descendants. A man, whose grandfather was known never to go back on his words; and that too, rubbed off on his descendants, because even me never go back on my words. A man, whose grandfather – who above all things and despite his reputation as a strong man of words and actions – fell at the voice of his wife; the woman he adored, the grandmother of my grandfather. And that rubbed off on all his male descendants, especially my grandfather, who would kill for his wife, Aseba's beautiful mother.

I said she got pregnant; Aseba that is. She did that and the wrath of the ancestors, in the person of her father descended on her in no small amount.

He wouldn't have been angry with her – my grandfather wouldn't have been. As he loved his wife; ready to do good and evil at her bid, so also he loved his daughter, Aseba. He would do anything before he raised a finger on his daughter; the only child he was blessed with as though the ancestors predicted what my grandmother would make him do. It never happened that he raised his voice on her any day until that day; the day Aseba was disowned.

How could a man like my grandfather who loved his daughter so much disown her just because she got in the family way? Children borne out of wedlock were everywhere. Whoever heard of illegitimate children on this side of the world? It was no secret that even my grandfather was one before the mistake was corrected. Then why did he take that step? My grandmother of course! She didn't like the fact that as respected as she was in the community, her daughter had to bring upon them such disgrace. She forgot about the disgrace she caused her parents when she got pregnant with her daughter; my mother. She forgot about the disgrace she inflicted on her family, when she, who was the daughter; the only female child of Odionlogbo, the village head, eloped with her heartthrob; my grandfather. She forgot all that and put my mother through hell. She even forgot how her parents forgave her when she returned home with her poor husband; who was of a blood of no strong holding in the village. All his family was known for was the achievement of his grandfather. But while the community respected them still, they never made them forget the line that divided the high and mighty from the low.

My grandfather loved his wife. Let husbands and wives obey each other and live peacefully and the reward of a long life would be theirs, they say. Let he who finds good luck and prosperity between the thighs of a woman – like my grandfather found at my grandmother's – live according to the words that she evokes, I say. My grandmother was no ordinary woman. She was beautiful till the day she died. She was a woman of words that are undisputable; I told you it runs in my family. The name of her husband's grandfather must have rubbed off on her too. But credit her for her achievements. She was a woman who would take a no good man and make a mountain out of him; she did that with my grandfather. She was a woman who made any make of man fall in love with her; and her admirers were much, but my grandfather only she loved. Most importantly, she was a woman who took exactly what she wanted, price regardless. She was a woman of class; one that ought not exist in the kind of community she grew up, but she had her principles. If she told you it was right for her to get pregnant out of wedlock then she was definitely correct. But when she said it was wrong for my mother to get pregnant out of wedlock, she was right and there was no contesting her – she just didn't want me to be born. The nerve of her! See why I love Onime so much?

She rained down fire; my grandmother did. She couldn't understand why her daughter, the granddaughter of the Odionlogbo family, would turn out to be so degrading. My grandfather had no choice when his wife pronounced Aseba as disowned. He fell for it; anything she said.

Poor Aseba; disowned as young as she was. When I think of what she's gone through all because of me, I show empathy in secret, but then, I didn't ask to be born.

She went to him who planted me in her. He also disowned her; indirectly disowning me – I was right to say that I hated him.

Sixteen and without food and shelter and a shoulder to cry on, she survived – the ancestors watch over her also and they do not understand the language of illegitimacy. Till date, she won't tell me how she survived. She only reminds me that she carried me for nine months and if she had wanted, she would have undone me; there were grandmothers who had the liquid portions.

I love her really; that doesn't mean I don't hate her for what she has done. I love her because she is a strong determined and focused woman. My grandmother might have been strong, but she was nowhere near my mother; I guessed she must have realised this and the excuse of my mother's pregnancy was a way to ward off competition of a kind. I would do anything for my mother; reason why I never will stand him call my mother any name that suits him, but then, did he ever mean any of those considering how I found them?

I grew up with the doctrine of without a man, you learn to survive alone. Right from when I was young, Onime made me take to farming and understand how cassava was planted, harvested and processed into garri, as well as extracting starch. Should the inevitable happen, I have Onime's farms to sustain me. I believed till I was fifteen that my father died a long time ago. I believed till I was fourteen that my mother was an orphan.

He had come knocking on our door one morning after my mother had left for the market to sell her garri. It was the big market day and people from the towns always came down to buy home garri that had enough starch. Because I was down with the monthly cleansing that women always have – my first days of the circle are always unbearable – I didn't go to school. He knocked and I opened after grumbling because I had to hold my stomach all the way to the door. With a frown I had looked up at the stranger.

"Where's Aseba?" he had asked.

I had recoiled a bit only at his lack of manners. Onime always said, 'no matter how young the person was, show that you didn't leave your manners at home'. He didn't say 'eve' or 'doh' as a way of greeting and I didn't offer the traditional greeting for the elders, let alone move my knees.

"Where's Aseba?" he had repeated.

"Out," I answered.

Then he had looked at me in close scrutiny. "Are you who I think you are?"

"No." Was what I said. My stomach was hurting inside and unless he left, I wouldn't have the comfort of lying down with my stomach on the pillow.

"But you don't know who I am talking about. Are you her daughter...yes, you are." He had pointed at me.

Naturally, I acted on instincts and retreated thinking he was a sick man.

"I am your grandfather, Oseologbo." He raised both hands up.

That was when I shut the door and returned to bed blocking away his loud bangs on the door. I didn't even indulge myself with thoughts about what he said. My mother was an orphan.

She came home surprisingly before noon that eventful day as though she had a calling that her father awaited her. I had drifted into the other beyond when she came. It was her silent sobs that woke me up. I had tottered into the living room to see the man who claimed he was my grandfather consoling my mother. My first thought was that he had hurt my mother. I used to be very protective of Onime so my pains forgotten, I jumped on him hitting him from all sides with promises that I intended to kill him for whatever he's done to my mother.

After what seemed like eternity, Onime got me off him. She bridled my trembling body when she said he was her father. What followed that I have willed myself to forget. He brought the news that his wife was dying. She wanted to see her daughter and grandchild before she died.

So I met that woman and I learnt of her and of that which my mother didn't tell me from all her stories of the past. I learnt also the truth about my father. I did say that my mother was stronger than her mother. My mother had her toe to the ground I believed, because my grandmother must have told her it was wrong of her to keep me away from my father.

My grandfather died two weeks after his wife was laid to rest. I never knew them, I felt nothing. What I did was help my mother in carrying her grief around and I carried it until my fifteenth birthday when another stranger staggered into our home and called me 'Omo my sweet'. Oseme – my own father – came.

*****

After that first meeting, I was forbidden never to interact with him for the pains he inflicted on us when he disowned us. But I was curious about his person. He was different from any other person I knew. He had seen more white people than anyone in our village, from where he came from. He had actually worked for one of them. He had learnt a lot of things, and was actually a schoolteacher. He even had something that baffled me. It was later that he told me it was a typewriter. His boss had given it to him. He used it to write stories. He fascinated me; my father did. He was equal to the white man for all I knew. He could read fluently and he wrote, not with ink, but with the white man's typewriter.

At the end of every time I spent with him, we would fight, because he would call my mother names. After that, Onime would promise to kill me and warn me again for the last time to stay away from him. On my sixteenth birthday he gave me his typewriter because he got something better from his good boss. Our fights kept on with me promising myself every time that I wouldn't see him again.

Now what? The two of them were something else.

*****

I turned around on hearing footsteps behind me. I was surprised to notice that I was sitting under a pea tree. I couldn't remember having sat down. I must have been lost in the memory of things. And I noticed that the clouds were darkening. Thinking that I might have stayed out too long, I started for home.

The house was frightfully quiet when I stepped in but I knew they were there somewhere waiting for me. I stepped into my room and was welcomed by both eyes.

"Omo, my sweet, you are back," he said to me.

I didn't look at him. I was still angry.

My mother came towards me. "Omo, you know we want the best for you."

I smiled. "I know."

She looked at me precariously as though I were up to something.

"Are you going to do the right thing?" I asked.

"Your mother has accepted, Omo, you will come with me," he said to me.

I faced her, my fears written all over my face. "No."

"It's the best thing, Omo," my mother said. "You will get a better education and be as smart as those city girls who dress well and hold their heads up in the air when they are around village brought ups like me. You will become what any girl in this village is yet to become, a school teacher. If the men can do it, my Omo will be the first female at it. Yes, my daughter?"

I just stared at her with an emotion I couldn't explain. "What about you?" I wanted to know their plans.

"I will be fine," she said. "Knowing that I am mother of the first female teacher." She smiled. "They will no longer call me Oni Omo, but Oni teacher, because my daughter will be a teacher. And you Omo dear, they will call you Miss." She turned towards my father. "Isn't that how they call the female teachers? Miss?"

He nodded.

I said nothing. The day's arguments were enough for one day. In my absence they sat down to plan my future for me. Who said I wanted to be a teacher when I had plans of my own? But I said nothing and allowed them to believe that we were all in one accord.

On the day we were to leave, we eloped.

*****

Two months later, he found me. He said they had no idea that I would take such an action. "Omo, what do you want?"

I discovered the length they had to go to find me and felt slightly guilty for putting them through such. I imagined his work must have suffered too. But I was quiet. Being alone has changed me, even if it was just two months.

He didn't know about my secret and I wasn't ready to tell him. I followed him back to my mother. I didn't fail to notice the bags under her eyes. She looked frail and tired. My disappearance must have been tough on her. She was happy to see me. She thought I ran away from home. She never considered the fact that I would elope. She forgot that I am still my grandmother's granddaughter. Eventually, I told her that I was pregnant which was why I left home, because I was scared. I thought she would disown me the way her mother did her, but she didn't. What she did was promise me her well versed threat that since she carried me in her womb for nine months, she could easily kill me.

*****

And as I sit here, looking out of the window the morning after my world fell apart for the second time because I revealed my secret to them, I cannot help but wonder if today, Onime's threat will finally be made true.

#  HUNTED

When Ifeoma called to tell him to resign his appointment with the consultancy agency where he worked, Ike laughed. He had not heard from her in over ten years and at first had been surprised when she introduced herself. He was on the verge of asking how she got his number, or how she even found out where he worked.

When he dropped the phone, he laughed harder. She had the nerve! How could she just call him and tell him to resign? Who was she? He shook his head as his laughter subsided.

He checked his time piece and started to clear his table. In an hour time, he should be sitting down with his friends at Down Town, in company of drinks and girls. Thank God It's Friday.

As he left the office and proceeded outside to where his car was parked, he passed by two of his colleagues who were talking about the coming Monday. Now, the coming Monday was what Ike should be ready for and praying over, but he doesn't even want to think of it. Today was yet to be over for him. All the problems he had to bother about were today's only. Tomorrow and Monday's would take care of themselves.

*****

Ike had a very swell weekend. He woke up that morning with a different girl on his bed. The girl on Friday night had been different from the girl of Saturday night. Sunday night he returned to being the meticulous guy he was. He had picked up his fiancée from the airport. Her short trip to Abuja was over.

He prepared for the office while she was still in bed. Before leaving the house that morning, he went into the bedroom to kiss her. Her eyes were open and she smiled at him. "I know you will have a swell day at work today."

He hoped so. With the new General Manager resuming that very day, every other staff that wasn't a part of the management was walking on an invisible edge. They have been walking on that edge for the past two weeks, since the rumours began to spread about some staff being laid off. The news had it that the new General Manager had been looking into the office work for over five months and had come up with the names of those that needed to go. The new boss had been around the office several times but no one seemed to have seen him.

Ike positively hoped he wasn't going to be one of the unfortunate staff. He had to hold on to the job. It was his only means of survival. His family depended on him and his fiancée has become used to the comfortable life he provides her with that she wouldn't be able to adjust to managing. He just hoped it wouldn't get to that point, because he really loves her.

On his way to his office, his cell phone rang. Less than a minute later he ended the call in annoyance. It was Ifeoma again, calling to ask him if he took her advice of last week Friday and resigned his appointment with the company. He didn't even say anything except cut her off. He couldn't bear to have such a bug on his shoulders. What does she want from him? What does she mean by; 'if you don't resign, you won't be able to live with it'? What does she mean?

*****

Ike had met Ifeoma eleven years before in an examination hall where they both took JAMB, the matriculation examination. He had played his cards fast and had gotten her to leave her address with him before she left for home. It didn't take him long to get her into his bed. He considered her dull as she believed everything he told her. To him, she was just another girl on the block. He was playing and immediately he got tired, he moved on to another agenda.

Months into their unbelievable affair, Ifeoma came with the nasty news of a baby on the way. Ike had been furious. He told her to get rid of it that they were too young to be parents – she was 18 and he was 22. She refused and that surprised him. Ifeoma never opposed his decisions. He thought she was just being childish. He put an end to the discussion that day, saying they needed to think; that acting immediately could be bad since they were bound to make wrong decisions. She fell for that one, but Ike had already made up his mind. She was going to get rid of the baby whether she liked it or not.

Days later, he was out with his most regular girlfriend, one Ifeoma had always accused him of and whom he always denied. He never knew that Ifeoma even had the time to follow his movement. She was obsessed and crazy. His girlfriend had left her seat to go talk with someone she hadn't seen in a while. Ike was nursing his beer when he heard her voice. Turning in surprise, he discovered Ifeoma. His first reaction was to scan the place to make sure his girlfriend was out of sight. He couldn't bear to hurt that girl in anyway. He asked Ifeoma what she was doing there and she had confronted him that he was cheating on her. Ike had been stunned. He came right out and asked her if they were committed and why he should stay faithful to her. Ifeoma had started to cry and was already on her knees saying all sort of weird things about love. She was talking of their future together and the baby in her womb and every one was beginning to listen. She was at his feet and he felt very repulsed. Then he heard his name again and he looked up to find his darling girl standing there, shocked and humiliated at the sight before her.

He tried saying something, but all he could do was stammer inaudibly. He watched her turn and walk away. And that had hurt him so terribly he took it out on Ifeoma. He beat the living daylight out of her. And when he was held away from her, his desire was to later hear that he had beaten the child in her womb, dead.

His girlfriend heard about what he did to Ifeoma. She said if he could do it to one girl, then he could do it to another. She left him. Ike had left town when Ifeoma got hospitalized; realising he was in for trouble, he fled. It was crazy that as young as he was, Ifeoma expected him to abandon plans for his future and get tied up with a child he wasn't ready for. He never saw or heard about her again until she called him on Friday.

How did she get his number? He couldn't understand. And why should he resign?

*****

Parking his car, he alighted and went to chat with some of his colleagues before going into the office. He wanted to know what was happening and if the dread they've been waiting for had arrived. But all he gathered was that the new General Manager had not yet arrived. Ike settled down to his job.

At lunch time, they were yet to hear anything about the new General Manager. It was almost at the close of work that the announcement was made. The General Manager had been around since the early hours of the day. She had been the first person to resume work. They had all looked from one person to the other. She? A woman? One could never predict a woman.

One after the other, the General Manager's secretary called the staff to meet the new woman. They went in twos and threes. They stayed in the office for less than three minutes.

Ike waited to be called. He was surprised that in his department, everyone had been called except him. He was still sitting in the waiting room of the new General Manager when the secretary began to clear her table. He had looked at her and had voiced his concern. She looked at him and he could read the surprise in her look. She was new also. She came with the new General Manager. She quickly picked up her list and asked him his name. He watched her eyes scan the list and she shook her head.

"Your name isn't here. I'm sorry. Do you work here?"

Ike had begun to sweat. Could it mean he had been fired? How many people got fired that day? He began to think of the people that got letters from the management. But those people were promoted, not fired. He asked to see the new General Manager. Something had suddenly begun to get to him. The secretary refused. The lady was tired and had asked not to be disturbed. Ike was ushered out like a nonentity. He returned to his office to clear his desk. At the process of clearing it, he came across a letter he had not noticed all day. It was from the new General Manager. Ike's heart was already in his heart. He could almost guess what was in the letter. He opened it and got the shock of his life.

He sat in his car. He couldn't drive away. He needed to see her. Ifeoma Obiora, now Ifeoma Eze, was his new General Manager. How come? He needed to see her. It's been ten years.

He was drumming on his steering when someone knocked on the roof of his car. He looked up and there she was, standing by his door. She looked different. Very beautiful.

"Congratulations," she told him.

He got out of the car. "Why did you do it?"

She smiled. "Reject it if you want. I don't care." She smiled. "But truly Ike, you should have listened to me and resigned. We would have paid you off really well."

He didn't understand what she meant by that. He was going to say something, when a small voice called out to her.

Ifeoma turned and beckoned to the girl to come. Ike almost collapsed at the sight before him. She looked exactly like him. He didn't need anyone to tell him she was his daughter. The very one he had killed in Ifeoma's womb. He watched Ifeoma take the girl by the hand. She faced him again and wished him luck with his new appointment, turned and walked away in the direction of a waiting car with their daughter.

Ike knew that he would never have peace again, unless Ifeoma talked to him. Forgave him. That face will hunt him. He has seen his child. But he had no right to say anything because he killed that child in Ifeoma's womb.

He has been transferred to a branch office in the north and also promoted. He ought to be happy. More money. He wasn't happy. The job will be difficult. His fiancée will refuse to move with him. He wouldn't have rest. That face he saw will hunt him. He ought to have resigned but he needed the job.

With kindness, Ifeoma has sent him a quick notice to a future of restlessness.

# THE CONSEQUENCES

If anyone had told Eloho when she was twenty, that she would one day throw her view about single women having relationships with married men out of the window, she and that person would have visited hell first before she took her next step. But then, telling her that one day, she would find no trouble sleeping with a married man would have been the straw because in her dictionary of fourteen years ago, that could never happen. When it happened, it happened not because she planned it that way, but because she didn't see an alternative. Eloho made a mistake.

In her early thirties, Eloho is still one hell of a lady with a demeanor that could make the skins of the strongest and hardhearted men crawl. Too down to earth, she dresses herself with rules and codes of conduct that most young ladies would frown at. She is the girl that a man never wants to mess with, let alone another female. Give her any talk about being secured financially on the voyage of a married man who had wraps to spend, and Eloho would tame you with talks of self-respect, independency and never allowing another to have an advantage over your life.

Eloho knew who a loose girl was and she called them weak; girls without self-control whose bodies and lustful desires ruled their lives. She promised herself ever since she became sensible enough to understand the relationship between her many uncles and her mother that she would never be in that club. But then, her mother's life never rubbed off on her so there was never a chance that Eloho would have inherited the itch her mother had between her legs, not because she needed the money the men gave her, but because her bed must never be found empty. If anything, Eloho's mother brought her up under rules and strict conditions, and not surprising, the rules rule her life.

It was only from a distance that Eloho saw the men and when she asked later, her mother would tell her 'uncle'.

Although her mother is her best friend, they never exhibit any closeness for an onlooker to see, and while Eloho went to the best boarding schools money could afford, her mother never once visited her in the six years she spent in secondary school.

"I am protecting your future," her mother gave the ultimate excuse. "We don't want someone taking advantage of your soon to be very good future and spoiling it with a scandal about the life I lead. When it is about you, it should be all about you."

She was made to understand that mummy led a bad way of life. "Never follow in my footsteps," Eloho's mother always told her. She claimed she had to be that way because it was the only way she could punish herself for what happened with her husband, the father Eloho never knew.

Victim of circumstance is what Eloho became. To say her world came crashing would be like comparing a fallen grain of sand to the collapse of the World Trade Centre. When her world crashed, it became lost. She searched for her world without success. Her existence seemed to have been wiped out of the calendar of life.

Everywhere she went, seemed the wrong place to be at. Everyone she asked looked on her with the eyes that asked what she had to sell. Mummy never warned her about this. All she had been prepared for was to be studious and come out the best so that her qualifications could speak for her. But it was a different world outside of the classrooms.

She couldn't seem to survive. One had to use what was available to achieve the unavailable. She read it in all their actions. Never! Eloho crossed her heart. They could close all the doors as long as they wanted, but she believed her years of hard work at school will someday open the way and she would be there; high with the stars.

*****

In the heat of the race to staying alive, Eloho met this handsome guy who was totally different from the rest of them guys. She saw what her mind has already created of what her dream man must be. Actually, she and her mother used to talk about the kind of man she must be on the lookout for.

"You see my dear," her mother told her once. "Women like the one you will soon become have big dreams to own the world; achieve everything, but listen dear, it is all for nothing, if you don't have your own man. Love, it is important, but most important, you have to choose the kind of man that is worthy of your love. Some women today will tell you a man is not important. I respect their choices, but my girl it is a hard and lonely life without your man."

So when she met him, it was impossible not to lose her heart in the pool of her imagination. She was human after all. Variety spices up life. Love is a secret of staying young. All she wanted was someone to love her for whom she was. She gave her best, but her best wasn't meant to bring forth anything good. All she got was someone who had to return to his wife at the end of the day.

"You are married?" her eyes traveled to his left hand. No ring there. She had invited him to her place; paid for and furnished with her mother's money. They had been seeing each other for three weeks and she finally decided it was time to go all the way with him.

"I thought I said so."

He used her was all she could think. But she didn't lose out completely as he settled her with a consolation. A job. But she felt cheap and wouldn't take it initially.

Her tears flowed. She saw the end of her world. She wanted to visit her mother and be consoled but she didn't want to share the disgrace. Gradually she began to get over the pain and gave her situation a thorough examination. In the end she saw it wasn't exactly all good for her to drown her life for no just cause. People are supposed to bounce back.

*****

Determined not to be gunned down by the experience, Eloho got on her feet and worked, locking up the compartments of her heart. Then she felt safe. She gave her all to her job, determined to make use of the opportunity.

On official assignment, Eloho met Mr. Married Man. Another one. Nothing happened, honestly. All they ever talked about was business, business and business.

This is how it all changed. She was picking up her bag to leave his office and he said in a whisper that she was very beautiful. Eloho allowed only a second pause, then she smiled her best and said thank you. She refused to think anything of it. She refused to admit that she had been waiting for that compliment from him, for a long time. She knew they were really friendly to each other. He's one person she could comfortably work with, without having the jitters. She knew also that he was handsome. Really caring. Most importantly, she knew he was married. And she was honest with herself that she regretted that part of it. Oh, how she regretted that part of it. All around her, the men that fitted her dream were married. So she trained herself away from thinking about him because he was untouchable; another woman's property. She prayed that he would never look at her as anything more than friends because should that happen, she wouldn't be able to hold on to her control and once that happened, what will happen to her banking job?

*****

During a business dinner/meeting put together by a top executive of one of their biggest clients, he dropped the bomb. He couldn't deny the fact that he wanted her; has wanted her always. Eloho had been hurt, working with him was great. Why complicate matters with a nasty relationship that only she will regret? She still couldn't forget the last one. She played deaf and tried to watch her manners, peradventure, she behaved invitingly. But a part of her was glad; really delighted that her petite statue which she always dressed in the best skirt suits to show off her very good legs and heels, were making him burn for her.

*****

After the meeting they left together with two other employees of their host who had to get off the elevators at different floors. Eloho and Mr. Married Man ended up alone on their way to the ground floor. One thing led to another and Eloho was in his arms there. He kissed her. Though briefly, when the elevator doors slid opened, their lips were still locked.

In the car park, she sent the official driver away and allowed him to drive her home. There are certain things one cannot deny no matter how hard one tried. She kept telling herself. Yes he is married, but what separated him and her dream man? A ring. She nodded. Temptations could be killing, no matter how much you tried to bury them. Then she remembered reading Oscar Wilde in school. She never forgets the line that she cherished the most. The best way to get rid of temptations is to yield to them. It's just my body, she reasoned. My mind knows I can never be his. My body is weak. Eloho was powerless.

At midnight, he left her to return to his wife. Eloho couldn't sleep. What had she done? She wished to cry, but the tears wouldn't come because down in her, she knew she wanted what happened, to happen. How she sat on those feelings of hers!

It wasn't unknown that Eloho was as ambitious a young lady as they could be. After that night they had shared together, Eloho was determined to make sure it never happened again. She begged him off with strong words like: he shouldn't complicate his life. He has a good wife and she didn't want his marriage to suffer. But deep down, she called herself a liar, because the sight of him alone made her speechless, and when she was alone, she relived every moment of their lovemaking. He was totally awesome and totally too much for just one woman.

*****

Six years later, Eloho became a very respectable lady and famous in the society, especially after her marriage to Mr. Bankole Stevens, president of Stevens Group of Companies – a man everyone thought would never get married because he dated and darted away. But when he encountered Eloho who was determined to make him a client with her bank, it spelt the end of his days as a bachelor. The nineteen years difference in their ages was played up by the media, they had to look for her story and records from schools. When there was nothing else to write, they let them be to enjoy their marriage.

*****

It was two years into her marriage and she was nursing a six months old daughter when the scandal broke. Why don't they let sleeping dogs lie?

She was the wife of the bank colleague Eloho had a one year relationship with. She heard the news two months earlier that he had passed on to the great beyond, but never knew that his death would bring trouble into her home. They had remained good friends after she insisted they end the relationship, and they had shared secrets. They talked about everything, and he encouraged her to give Bankole Stevens a try whether she succeeded in getting him as a client or not. She lost a friend when he died and attended the funeral. She even had kind words for the widow.

The scandal was a shock to Eloho. The widow granted an interview to a reputable gossip magazine that specialized in digging into people's secrets.

The widow's late husband before his death was a board member of his bank. The widow was talking about his dreams. At one point, she was asked to talk about the people that worked with her husband, and the widow talked. The journalist knew his work, and he knew what he was after. Before he requested the interview, words had filtered into his ears, about the friendship between the late man and Eloho Stevens. The words actually came from a former colleague of Eloho at the same bank who had dated Bankole Stevens before Eloho got him. The journalist wanted to be sure as the story smelt a cover one for him. But first, he wanted to make money. Blackmail Eloho.

The journalist commented on the role Eloho played at the funeral. She must be quite a friend indeed. The widow interrupted him. She said Eloho got that far in banking because her late husband was a good mentor. The interview was that simple.

Eventually, the news came out. Someone claimed to have seen the deceased and Eloho kissing in an elevator when the doors had slid open some years back. A former driver for the bank remembered been sent home as the deceased gave Eloho a lift. Anonymous staff of the bank remembered when the deceased and Eloho were quite close and having their lunches together. Then there were the dinner dates.

The widow who never suspected the relationship was forced to check past events when her husband had traveled on business assignments in company of Eloho Stevens. She remembered the birthdays' presents from Eloho. She had thought nothing of the relationship till the speculations came out.

Eloho who couldn't comprehend why a dead mad couldn't be left in peace, was really troubled. People looked at her differently and her position was suspected. 'Favours received from the bedroom'; one reporter wrote. But it was all lies. Eloho worked her way up. It was her word against theirs. How one mistake of the past could mar her image so terribly was really upsetting. She had to resign and it was bye to the banking world and her relationship with her husband had to be fixed.

*****

Two months later, Eloho had a visitor at her mother's home, on the outskirts of Lagos where she came to spend time, while she and her husband tried to work their relationship back to what it used to be. It was the famous widow. Eloho just couldn't understand what she wanted or why the security let her through the gates. She didn't know what to say and the widow saved the moment by speaking up. Her burst of apology caught Eloho off guard.

Sometime back, when the widow had been clearing the house, she had stumbled upon her husband's old diary. Curiosity made her read it and that was where she learnt the truth about her husband's relationship. Eloho had saved her marriage. There was a time when things had gotten bad in her marriage that she believed they would break up. But surprisingly, her husband had come home one day and told her he was willing to work things out. They had gone on a vacation and their marriage had survived. In that diary, she discovered it had all been Eloho's encouragement and advice. Eloho had talked him out of divorce. That had been the reason Eloho actually ended her relationship with him; she felt guilty he wanted to leave his family.

Eloho told the widow nothing mattered. The man was dead. Eloho lost a lot because of the scandal. Her only hope was that her marriage made it through the thick forest that has settled on her and Bankole.

# THE PASSENGERS

17 year old Wunmi lived in Festac Town before she was rudely uprooted far away from Mile Two, and definitely far away from Festac Town.

Mile Two is the name of a place along Badagry Express Way in Lagos. At Mile Two, there is a motor park where buses that go around the state can be found. Among the buses are those going to CMS, Apapa, Ojuelegba, Mile Twelve etc. as well as buses that go out of the state. The bus of interest with a lot of event that actually appears uneventful is a particular bus that heads for Ikeja-Ogba and each passenger pay N70 for a ride.

In the early 2000s, before this bus fare became N70, it used to be N60. Then it was increased to N80 after one fuel hike. Another fuel hike took the fare to N100. Although the price of a litre pump was adjusted, the fare never came down. After Olusegun Obasanjo left office as Nigeria's president, a ride from Mile Two in the Ikeja-Ogba bus was N150. The passengers argued and argued but it seemed there was no going back on the issue.

During the period when N70 was the fair, the first bus left Mile Two very early on weekdays at about 6:25am to convey passengers; mostly workers to Ikeja and Ogba where their offices were located.

*****

Wunmi wakes up very early on the mornings of the week to go to school. Her school, located off Agege Motor Road is accessed by one of the routes that lead to Ikeja and Ogba and to get to her school, her father on his way to his Apapa office, drops her off at Mile Two, from where she boards one of the many buses queuing to take passengers to Ikeja and Ogba.

*****

It was a Monday morning, the beginning of another week and Wunmi was the first passenger to get into the Ikeja-Ogba bus. The conductor of the bus, dressed in a worn out heavy jacket and head warmer to fight off the morning chill, was standing outside, hands deep in his pocket, chanting Ikeja-Ogba, Ikeja-Ogba like a priest.

Wunmi could tell that she had taken this particular bus before. She remembered because the conductor has a face that was difficult not to recognize when seen again by anyone who knew anything about Nigerian music artistes. The first time she took that particular bus was the Tuesday of the previous week. Another reason she remembered it was the same bus was because of the interesting events of that particular Tuesday.

*****

On that Tuesday in question, Wunmi had not been the first person in the bus, but the third to the last passenger. She completed the back row seat and the seat before her was raised for another passenger, a young slim and beautiful girl, whom Wunmi was sure couldn't be more than the age of twenty-three. That girl's face was one that Wunmi would not forget also. Just like the conductor's, the girl's face bore a great resemblance to someone Wunmi had seen on TV recently. The same face had graced the cover of Perfect Magazine two months earlier.

Apart from the girl's face, the most striking thing about her that wasn't lost on the other passengers who all turned their heads to acknowledge her entrance was her mode of dressing. Her top, a slightly transparent one that hugged her, showed the lacy black bra that she wore underneath; if you looked closely enough. Her jeans was the blackest black that Wunmi had ever seen jeans to be. Her Ghana weaving fell down over her shoulders, and half way down her back. She was very beautiful. All through the trip Wunmi prayed that the beautiful girl wouldn't drop till she herself wanted to drop, so that the girl would alight first. Wunmi wanted to see the girl upfront. Although, Wunmi was quite surprised to see the girl she has always dreamt of meeting since the day she saw her on TV, board a public bus. The girl was beautiful enough to own a car of her own, and according to the profile Perfect Magazine did on her, successful enough, but then Wunmi knew never to judge appearances.

Wunmi hadn't been the only one to be enchanted by the beauty. In the first row of seats, there was a young man dressed in the office way; a collared shirt buttoned to the neck and held with a tie and tucked into a trouser. He kept turning his head to steal glances at the girl.

Behind the young man was an albino woman whose mobile phone wouldn't stop ringing; disturbing the little silence of the morning that existed in the bus, away from screaming conductors. She would answer her calls then turn towards the third row seat where an albino man sat at the extreme end close to the window, with eyes trailing the activities outside the bus and they would communicate in the Igbo language while the man's eyes remained fixed outside the bus. Wunmi found them amusing and believed them to be a couple.

The bus then moved after the last passenger – a man probably in his forties took the last seat. Everyone had settled down for the journey that wouldn't be interrupted until the bus got on the Agege Motor Road when Wunmi – always the first passenger to alight – would be dropped off.

Wunmi locked her concentration on the beautiful girl who brought out a novel and started reading immediately the bus pulled out of the motor park. Just as the bus climbed up the bridge and onto the Oshodi/Apapa Expressway, the last passenger to board cleared his throat and Wunmi and the other passengers knew what was to come. Either he had goods to sell, or he had some story about some unfortunate victim of this or that attack, languishing in the hospital and in need of the public's support to go for an operation. If none of those, then he was a preacher who had stolen into their early morning privacy, determined not to leave them any moment of peace to dwell in thoughts of activities that will fill their day as he had no regards for what their minds were filled with because what he had to offer should be at the top of anyone's list of priority; salvation, and at the end of his teachings, an envelope would go round for his evangelism to be supported, looking from the side of his eyes to know who was putting money and who wasn't. After collecting the envelopes that contained money which would probably pay for other trips in buses around Lagos preaching the gospel, he would encourage the passengers to look for bible believing churches to attend. It was hard telling the real ones from the fakes. In Lagos, people would do anything to survive.

The instant the last passenger who had something to say said, "Praise the lord," Wunmi instantly knew they were about to receive a sermon. When Mr. Preacher, asked the others to bow their heads so they could commit the journey into the hands of God, Wunmi looked to see if the beautiful girl would obey that. The girl did. She actually closed her book and responded at the end of the prayer. After the prayer, the man launched into a sermon, while most of the passengers did other things. The men with newspapers opened and read. Some looked out the window, probably listening. Wunmi wasn't paying attention. Her attention was for the beautiful girl who was listening to the preacher with rapt attention.

It amused Wunmi in no small way because others would think that the beautiful girl would be the one not to listen, because of the way she was dressed, especially when the man was preaching about presentation. At one point in the middle of the sermon a phone rang. The phone jingle was the trending Konko Below song by the masked one, Labgaja. Wunmi discovered it was the beautiful girl's phone, and she smiled. Wunmi already was falling deeply in love with the girl who seemed interesting. The phone jingle didn't play to the end because the girl ended it, so she could continue listening to the preacher. Wunmi found that impressive.

The girl's phone rang again minutes after the preacher rounded up and this time she answered it and Wunmi paid attention to her side the conversation on the phone. "Hello." Wunmi smiled at the cool voice. The girl seemed to have everything. "I'm sorry I couldn't answer earlier." Wunmi couldn't see the expression on the girl's face but she had got one very cool and smooth voice. "Your story ... yes, I got your story, and I passed it on to my editor."

Editor. Wunmi raised a brow. The beautiful girl worked in the print media.

The girl laughed. "Call me later, will you? ... Em ...I'm not sure if I can." The girl laughed. "You are flattering me again."

Wunmi knew instantly that the beautiful girl was talking to a guy.

After the phone conversation, the girl resumed reading her novel.

Less than ten minutes later, Wunmi alighted.

*****

All through that week, Wunmi hoped to see the girl again, but she didn't.

She had filled her diary with writings about her. That Tuesday was one Wunmi would never forget.

*****

Back to the Monday that Wunmi was the first passenger in the bus, she adjusted herself and checked her time piece, praying the bus would get filled quickly. She didn't want to be late for school. Today would be a very interesting one at school. The SSS3 students were starting their Senior School Certificate Examination in a month's time, after which, they'd graduate out of the school. As a result the next school prefects would be named on the assembly ground that Monday morning. Wunmi knew she was one of the prefects because for the past two weeks she and other SSS2 students had spent their break-time period in the Principal's office, where the school authority questioned them.

Wunmi returned to the moment when another passenger arrived. The new passenger got into the first row in front of Wunmi and turned to look around. "When will this bus get full?" She hissed something quite inaudible and alighted.

Wunmi watched in fascination. It was the same girl; the beautiful one from the previous Tuesday whom she had just been thinking about. Wunmi felt disappointed the girl had to leave because the bus was still empty. She really wanted to know the girl. Today she noticed that the girl wasn't that tall, but the heels she wore hid the fact.

*****

Idara Effiong picked a newspaper and paid for it. She's supposed to be early at work today because she was called the night before from the office that some systems crashed and they lost most of the materials needed for the next edition of the magazine that was supposed to be heading for the press Monday night, and her material was one of them, so it was starting from the scratch. From where she stood, she could see the bus. Only one passenger was inside. The schoolgirl. Idara shook her head. She couldn't understand why parents would send their children to schools that are far away from home when schools are around their homes. If it were a boarding school that would have been different, but for a day student to go all the way from Mile Two to Ikeja or wherever the girl's school was didn't sit well with her. The journey, the stress, the time, and the traffic jam.

She looked back at the bus in time to see a man and a woman climb in. Idara looked at them closely feeling she had seen them before but she couldn't remember where. She approached the bus slowly knowing that four passengers would help attracted more. Eighteen more passengers to go.

As she was about to board, a young guy slipped through her in a brusque way and entered. Idara gave him a very irritated look, wondering why he should hurry when the bus was practically empty. What irritated her most was that he took the seat she vacated earlier. She wished she could tell him to leave the spot since she was there first, but she hadn't told the schoolgirl, who was the only one in the bus then, to keep the seat for her. Idara looked around for an alternative seat since she wanted one next to the window so she could get sufficient air supply should they run into morning traffic.

She noticed the couple again and the way they were seated ticked her memory. She had been in the same bus with them the previous week. She couldn't remember what day of the week it had been. The albino man again, like that fateful day, was seated on the third row next to the window while the woman, who definitely should be his wife, had a different seat beside the schoolgirl on the second row away from her husband. Idara noticed them because of their attitude. The woman would turn in her seat to talk to the man, who was always looking out of the window. Idara remembered they had dropped off at the same place last week.

When Idara finally got into the bus, she went to the last row and sat next to the window. Having nothing to do she brought out her novel to read and immediately she felt her usual pang of guilt because always she wished she carried a bible in her bag. She knew she had to study her bible constantly but Idara kept drifting away. As a result, whenever anyone offered to preach the gospel in a bus, she surrendered her utmost attention. She loved God and knew she owed him a lot. She quickly dropped the novel onto her laps and bowed her head, trying to get some quiet time in meditation, and seeking God's forgiveness. At twenty-two, her life was filled with one task or the other and has been that way since she was ten. She hardly had time for herself or for boyfriends when she came off age. She took the time she spent in buses to meditate and commune with her God and reflect on her life. But that Monday morning, as she tried to concentrate on meditating, so many disturbing issues kept coming to mind. She eventually gave up and sat up straight. That was when she realised another passenger had taken the seat next to her. Idara turned to see it was the student who earlier occupied the second row.

"Why did you leave there?" Idara pointed to the second row. She had no idea why she asked. Actually, it was none of her business.

The schoolgirl leaned closer to Idara and whispered conspiring. "She has a body odour," the schoolgirl indicated the albino woman carefully. Her husband was sitting right in front of them in the third row.

Idara looked at the albino woman. Was that why her husband wouldn't sit next to her? She wondered.

"I'm Wunmi."

Idara turned towards the schoolgirl again. "Excuse me?"

"My name is Wunmi."

Idara smiled then. "How come you're schooling at Ikeja, when you have schools around here?" she asked. She felt she could talk with the schoolgirl.

"We've just moved down to Festac from Mafoluku and I kind of have to finish from there. I love the school. My friends are there." And I am a popular sport person there. Wunmi left the last sentence unsaid.

Idara smiled and picked up her novel. As she was about to start reading, the schoolgirl said something and Idara looked up. "Excuse me, did you say something?"

"I said I've seen you before." Wunmi said.

"Oh," Idara smiled.

"You were in this bus last week Tuesday."

Idara raised a brow in surprise. "Were you in the bus?" Wunmi nodded. "You have a good memory but I can't remember seeing you."

"You sat right there in front of me," Wunmi pointed. "It was on a Tuesday. You wore a nice white top and a black jeans trouser."

Idara was fascinated. "Now I remember." She put her head out of the window and looked around for the conductor whose voice she could hear yelling, "Ikeja-Ogba, Ikeja-Ogba, N70 bus." Idara smiled and nodded. She faced Wunmi. "This is the bus I took last week, yes. But I don't know if it was on a Tuesday. I'm sure this is the bus. That conductor," Idara smiled. "He looks like Tony Tetuila. His hair and all." Idara laughed.

Wunmi smiled. "I knew it was the same bus when I saw him and I knew it was Tuesday because I saw you."

Idara studied her carefully. She was used to been patronized but by the opposite sex. And this girl couldn't be more than eighteen, maybe younger.

Wunmi smiled and looked up as four more passengers got into the bus. "Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, I had looked out for you."

"Wow!" Idara blew.

Wunmi laughed. She was having fun. "Apart from our Tony Tetuila conductor whom I knew I will never forget, I also knew I won't forget your face either. You look like someone."

Now Idara closed her book. "Tell me," she invited. This wasn't the first time someone she doesn't know was recognizing her. They always recognize her in buses. Last week Friday, she had closed from work early and on getting to the Ikeja bus stop, she was happy to get a bus going to Mile Two. The previous day, she had sweated one good hour at that same bus stop waiting for a bus going to Mile Two. She later gave up, and took a bike down to the motor park where she quickly got a bus.

On that Friday, she had been surprised when a man sitting close to her spoke to her saying that she closed early. Idara had looked at him closely, wondering if they had met. "We entered the same bus last night from the Ikeja Motor Park." The man explained. "We were here both waiting for a bus that did not come."

"Oh." Idara had smiled.

The man ended up paying her fare.

"Actually, I can't remember her name." Wunmi cut into Idara's thoughts. "I saw her on TV once. She appeared on an interview program. She was also on the cover of a magazine two months ago. When I saw that magazine, I knew she was the same person." She smiled at Idara. "Do you know Perfect Magazine?"

Idara nodded. "I work there."

"You were the one on the cover two months ago right?" Wunmi pushed.

"Yeap," Idara answered.

"You were the one on that TV program also."

"Yeap," Idara replied. "What's your name?"

Wunmi smiled. She had said her name twice, the girl probably wasn't listening. "Wunmi."

"I'm Idara," Idara opened her paper bag and produced a magazine. "You read our magazine, don't you?"

"My mother never misses an edition so I always get to read it," Wunmi said.

Idara gave the magazine to her.

They both looked up when a mobile phone rang. It was the albino woman. She answered the call and spoke for a long time. By the time she dropped the call, the bus was ready to move and the woman's head was turned. She was talking to the albino man in the Igbo language. The man never looked at her but replied when necessary, his eyes so busy counting the hawkers of Gala or recharge cards or whatever they had to sell. After the conversation between husband and wife, the woman adjusted herself to enjoy the ride. Idara and Wunmi exchanged looks and smiled.

When the Tony Tetuila conductor started collecting the fare, Wunmi opened her bag.

Idara touched her. "Don't worry, let me pay."

Wunmi smiled and thanked her.

"I've always wanted to meet you." Wunmi said.

Idara was used to a lot of things, but not this kind of attention. She smiled at Wunmi.

The girls were quiet as the bus climbed the bridge and got on the Oshodi/Apapa Expressway. They were both engrossed in their thoughts, and were oblivious of the traffic jam they were running into. While Wunmi was thinking of what to say to Idara that won't sound so seventeenish, Idara was working herself into a frenzy because none of the passengers had said, 'Praise the Lord.'

All of a sudden, their bus was hit from behind and Idara screamed the name of Jesus. The bus engine died and Tony Tetuila was already out of the bus. The driver also alighted from his side. The passengers were all looking behind to see who hit the bus. It was bigger than their bus and it stood there monstrously, as if waiting to open its mouth to swallow the small bus. The driver of the trailer was already out of the trailer, and he was yelling incomprehensible words at the bus driver in Yoruba.

"See this mumu o," a woman passenger in the bus shouted at the trailer driver who definitely couldn't hear her. "You wan kill us finish for here. Koni da funwe."

Idara looked at the woman, who was dressed like a staff of one of the numerous banks and wondered why she couldn't behave like the lady she dressed as. She thought the woman ought to be thankful that they were still alive considering they were on top of a bridge.

The noise from outside attracted some of the male passengers, who alighted to assist the driver and Tony Tetuila. The trailer driver continued to yell at the bus driver that the bus driver was at fault. Tony Tetuila's anger materialized to the surface and came pouring out on the trailer driver as a fistfight began.

"Now I will get to school late." Wunmi lamented.

Idara was still in shock. She couldn't find words to thank God enough, for keeping her alive. She was sitting at the back! If the trailer had squeezed them she would have been one of the causalities. She knew how mad some drivers in Lagos could be and she knew that trailer drivers were worse, struggling with small buses for the thin roads; they had no mercy to spare. As they sped towards their graves, they would push all form of obstacles out of their way. If at all they offered apologies, they would tell the affected party that the trailer had no brakes, and as such were not to blame.

Assuming there had been no traffic, the poor bus would have been sent crashing into heavens only knows where and idara's family that depended on her for almost everything would have been more than distraught. Now that God had given them another chance at living, instead of someone to apologize and put an end to the confusion they were delaying the poor passengers, who were now victims of circumstance.

"Driver come let us go now, see this motor here don move since. I don't want to miss my interview o," another passenger bellowed.

He shook his head disgustedly and turned to look at the other passengers, who were still in the bus, wondering why they were so calm. They definitely should have places to be at else they would be at their homes. The young man just needed someone to talk to desperately to calm his nerves and tension that the coming interview had bestowed on him. He couldn't afford to be late. Buying the Guardian newspaper every Tuesday and Thursday to check for vacancies was expensive enough, being lucky to be invited for an interview was a reward for his money spent. All that was left was to get the job. "I can't believe this." He shook his head again as his eyes fell on Idara and remained.

Wunmi saw it all happen. She saw his searching eyes stop, and the brows close together, either in recognition or in surprise at the beauty he didn't notice before. Well, Wunmi thought, if the trailer hadn't hit the bus he wouldn't have seen Idara. She looked at Idara to see if she had noticed her admirer only to see a stricken face that was trying to recover from the not so serious accident.

"Idara," she called. "It was just a little hit."

Idara sighed.

"Idara."

Wunmi and Idara both looked up at the young man who was staring at Idara happily. Wunmi was surprised he knew Idara's name.

He smiled and shook his head. "This is a surprise. You and I in the same bus and I didn't notice, for that reckless trailer driver..." he stopped.

Idara was staring at the young man. He was the same person that had rushed passed her to get into the front seat. Now he was sitting on the edge of the seat close to the door – he had probably moved so he could see what was going on out there with the mad drivers. He knew her name and she was certain they had never met.

"You don't recognize me?" he sounded hurt.

Idara shook her head. "I'm sorry I ... I can't place the face." She worked to regain her poise.

"Last week," he said excitedly. "At Ikeja."

Idara smiled helplessly. "I'm sorry," she apologized again.

"Last week Wednesday, we were waiting together for Mile Two bus at the Ikeja Motor Park. Remember, we sat together when a bus finally came around 8:00pm. Then at Cele bus stop we ran into those bullet hungry policemen. Can you remember?" he sounded desperate and really wanted her to recognize him.

Idara finally nodded, her newly found poise falling off like a shed onion back. How could she forget the day a bullet almost claimed her life? It had been a Wednesday, as he already implied. Things had been happening to her that threatened her safety and long life. Maybe she was getting a sign that she would die soon.

*****

That unforgettable Wednesday night, after the stress of getting a bus, Idara had relaxed in the passenger seat next to the driver. The young man in the bus who recognized her, sat in the front with her. The traffic had been light. At Cele bus stop, the driver stopped so a passenger could get off. That was when the trouble started. Before the passenger could alight, the conductor had started screaming, "Go! Go! Go! Dem dey come o." The driver stepped on the accelerator, but he was too slow. The screeching sound of tires pierced the night air as the patrol vehicle blocked the bus. The boys in black were out of the wagon with their guns in no more seconds.

"Wahala!" some passengers wailed.

Idara had just resigned to fate. All she wanted was to get home after a hard day's job.

"Get down!" one of the uniformed men ordered the driver.

"You sef," a lady passenger queried the driver. "Why you go pack for road eh? You no wan enter park because you no wan give Agbero N20. Oya follow police, you go pay well well."

The driver did not open the door, neither did he alight. He did a quick reverse and swung the bus back onto the highway, almost running into another vehicle. The passengers in the bus were already screaming at the mad driver. Idara turned to see the boys in black jumping into the wagon.

"Dem dey come o!" the conductor yelled. "Show dem pepper! Show dem say for Waffi, na we be police!"

"Abeg o!" a woman yelled. "Make I drop for here."

The next thing they heard, as the bus kept flying through the highway, with the wagon following, was a gunshot from the wagon that was almost overtaking the bus on its right hand side. The bullet entered the bus through the passenger window, and went through Idara's bag, which she had carried to cover her head in the confusion of things, and lodged into the side of the driver's head rest.

Idara screamed uncontrollably, as the bus swayed under the hands of the driver who had been distracted by the sound of the gunshot.

"Cool temper jare," the conductor told the driver.

The driver got the bus under control. "I too much!" he hailed himself, steadying himself into his seat as he took a peep into the side mirror. The policemen had slowed down, deciding the driver wasn't worth the trouble after the single shot.

The passengers were screaming for him to stop. The confusion was deafening.

Idara sat still as though frozen, but screaming like a Banshee.

The young man sitting close to her, who had been quiet all along, threw his arm around her in an effort to console her.

"O girl, you no be small pikin. Driver here na expert, him kak well well, no fear," the conductor said to Idara.

The young man sitting next to Idara had faced him. Together with other passengers, they queried the conductor.

"E don do. Look back, see, dem don go," the conductor tried to assure the passengers, in his best smile.

"You and your driver are joking with lives," the young man sitting beside Idara said, getting angry.

"Forget jare!" the conductor launched. "Driver know wetin him dey do. We be correct Waffi gee, you see. Police no fear face? My male face swallow the bullet one time." Then the conductor reached forward, and touched Idara. "Omote, doh wo yon. Life no dey quench inside this motor. Oghene oro mamo."

The passengers soon realised that the driver and conductor were beyond reasoning with. They kept quiet and prayed to God to take them safely to their destination.

At Mile Two, Idara still in a daze, got off. The young man was still with her.

"Are you okay?" he had asked.

She had nodded. "Thank you."

He put his hand forward. "I'm Efe."

"Idara." Idara took the outstretched hand. Then she excused herself politely, and went in search of the bus that would transport her home.

*****

She smiled. "Hi."

His smile broadened. "Didn't know I'll meet you again."

"It's a small world," Idara said and looked around nervously. "What's keeping them?"

The young man looked out. He faced Idara again. "They've finally settled it. You are dropping at Ikeja right?"

Idara nodded.

He moved back into his seat as the others returned.

*****

The bus came to a halt at PWD bus stop.

Idara grabbed Wunmi's hand. "Don't forget to call me."

Wunmi smiled. "I won't," she said as she got up to get off the bus. Wunmi dropped off, and watched the bus move away. On checking her timepiece, Wunmi frowned because she was twenty minutes late and the assembly would have begun for about ten minutes. She hurriedly boarded a motorbike to save time. As the bike got closer to the school gate, she could hear her heartbeat going rhythmically like a talking drum. Standing in front of the school gate was her geography teacher who was brandishing a long cane for the sake of latecomers. He gave her a disapproving look when she greeted him.

"Do you realise you are late?" he asked

"Yes sir, it was the bus that I boarded. We met with a slight accident."

"Is that an excuse? You know you are one of the prefects, and you are this late." Then he smiled as if remembering something. "Here you are, Time Regulator, coming late to school. Hmm, imagine that. How will you then keep our school time?"

Wunmi didn't bother to say anything. When Mr. Ade Balogun decided to berate anyone, he does so to his satisfaction. She looked ahead and saw the lines. She couldn't hear what was been said in the assembly ground. God please, let them wait for me before naming the new prefects, Wunmi prayed. She faced her teacher again. "Can I go in now, sir?"

"Ha ha!" He wore a surprised look. "Even an illiterate knows he has to stand at an attention, when the national anthem is being recited. Stand there jare! Prefect kpangolo," he hissed.

Wunmi sighed. Who could she blame? That accident had eaten out of her time. "Oya, e lo," The geography teacher ushered her in.

Wunmi threw long strides. What was her geography teacher saying about her being the new Time Regulator? Wunmi had a different post in mind. She knew she couldn't be named Head Girl, since she wasn't academically, the best female student in her session, but she was the best sport person, girls and boys combined. She ought to be the Sports' Prefect, not a Time Regulator! The Time Regulator was the lowest rank of Prefects as far as Wunmi Knew. She didn't want that.

When her school won First Price at the just concluded Nigerian Secondary Schools Athletics Competition, it was Wunmi who had made it possible, by picking up gold medals in the 400, 800 and 1,200 meters respectively. She also picked up a silver medal in the 200-meter race. She wasn't Mary Onyali or Fatilat Ogunkoya, but she held the record for 400, 800 and 1,200 meters in the country. Her school was the only school to pick up three gold medals, thereby, topping the table. How could she be a Time Regulator? Wunmi envisioned her achievements all lined up in the near future after the made it into the spotlight as an international athlete. 'Wunmi Davies: at seventeen, she held the country's record for 400, 800 and 1,200 meters. She was the Sports' Prefect of her school, at seventeen.' Wunmi smiled. Why spoil it with Time Regulator? What has sports and time keeping got to do with each other except breaking her time record?

She looked up at the assembly ground in front of her. Some of the students were staring at her. Every student knew Wunmi. She became a hero after the competition. She was openly rewarded in front of the entire school during one assembly gathering. Now they were staring because she was late. Okay, they all know I am late. Not my fault please. Her eyes flew up to the podium, where the school principal, her vice, and some teachers stood. No student was standing there, which meant they hadn't announced the names of the new prefects yet. She joined the line where her class was. The girl in front of her turned to smile at her.

"Wunmi Wunmi, today na una day oh."

Wunmi smiled. The girl, Ijeoma was someone Wunmi doesn't interact with because Ijeoma moved in a clique and Wunmi doesn't move with girls who grouped themselves. They are always gossips.

"Na who go be Head Girl?" Ijeoma asked.

Wunmi hid her irritation. Today was no time for that. Ijeoma would always speak Pidgin English. "Let's wait till the end and find out," Wunmi said. She didn't want to pass a secret out, although the whole school, or rather their set knew Anima Lawal would be the Head Girl, because she was well qualified for the post. Everybody also knows that I am the most qualified for the Sports' Prefect post, Wunmi thought. Who were her contenders? Kemi is a sprinter, but in the last three years, Kemi gathered seven medals for the school; four silvers, and three bronzes. In the School House Team which Kemi belonged to, Kemi was the best. Orezi is a high jump athlete. In the last three years, she gathered nine medals for the school; two bronze, five silvers and two gold. In the School House Team which Orezi belonged to, Orezi was the best. Then there was Wunmi. In the last three years, she gathered fourteen medals for the school. The recent three gold medals. Three other gold medals, four silvers and four bronzes. In the School House Team which she belonged to, she was a princess. Everybody knew Wunmi went from good to better to best. The only time she got bronze medals was two years earlier. That year she also had two silver medals. Last year, she picked up a silver medal and three gold medals. Although the recent and previous year's medals were the same, her improvement was very evident in her records. She broke her last year's record. 200-meters would always bring her silver, because she was yet to fit into it perfectly. She was the only student at her school, past or present, who ever won a gold medal at the Nigerian Secondary Schools Athletics Competition. At the end of the event, she had been awarded an award as the most outstanding athlete of the event. She felt she was more qualified to be the Sports' Prefect.

"I know say na you go be our Sports' Prefect sha," Ijeoma broke into Wunmi's thoughts.

Wunmi smiled, coming out of her reverie. "I don't know. Maybe some other post."

"Haba, Wunmi baby, who no know say na you be our sport person for this school? Kemi fit be Mama Fryo niece O, but she no better pass you!" Ijeoma stated.

Wunmi's heart gave a wild beat. She forgot the fact that Kemi was actually the niece of the principal. That was it. No Sports' Prefect post for her. That connection alone would give the other girl the post. Wunmi's heart fell flat. No wonder her geography teacher said something about Time Regulator. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she fought hard to prevent them from falling. She couldn't afford to disgrace herself with tears when called out as a Prefect. Everybody would be expecting her to be the Sports' Prefect, so when Kemi's name is called, they all would want to watch out for Wunmi's reaction.

I shouldn't have accepted to be one of the Prefects. Wunmi thought, regretting the interviews with the school authority. All along, she had assumed her post. Even an assistant to the Sports' Prefect would be an insult to her integrity, the Time Regulator was just worse and there was no escaping it.

She braced herself. There was a reason for everything. Let your actions judge your work and people shall speak for you in defense. Her mother always said that.

Wunmi looked at the Principal, who was now speaking. She laid her worries aside and listened. The Prefects would be called soon by the outgoing Head Girl and Head Boy.

There was a loud applause as Amina Lawal walked up to the front. The new Head Girl. Students were murmuring among themselves trying to guess who the next Prefect would be.

Wunmi waited patiently. From nowhere she smiled. She remembered the young man in the bus who recognized Idara. Beautiful Idara. She smiled again. Her friends would never believe she met Idara. Wunmi wondered what would come out of their meeting. Idara wanted her to call.

Wunmi looked up and around her at the protesting voices. She didn't hear what was said to have caused the uproar. She was about to ask Ijeoma, when she realised students were straining to look at her, even as the Principal's voice screamed for silence. Wunmi looked up at where the new Prefects were lined, and saw Kemi standing there and knew the Sports' Prefect had been called and the students were protesting against the choice of Kemi.

Wunmi shrugged and tried to smile.

The other Prefects were called out.

The outgoing Head Girl's voice rose higher as she called out the name of the Time Regulator, the last prefect on the list.

Wunmi smiled and proceeded forward. The applause was astounding. The students were cheering her on. They all knew she'd been robbed off her right, but then all was vanity. My Achievements! My Achievements! Her inner voice cried as she got up there and faced the whole school. She saw their stares. Some were angry. Some felt as if they were the ones who'd been cheated. Some had revenge in their eyes. Some were encouraging as though they said take it easy; every disappointment is a blessing in disguise. Some said we know who our Sports' Prefect really is. Wunmi smiled. Her actions, the works that she has made, were speaking from others. They took the battle off her hands; not that she had any.

*****

One after the other, the new Prefects took their turns to acknowledge their positions. Each received their share of applause. The booing came when it was the turn of the Sports' Prefect to speak. Kemi didn't know what to do, but she tried and she said something. As she handed the microphone over, Wunmi started to clap. All eyes turned on her. Was she crazy? Her clap grew louder, until the whole school had to join her. They were applauding the great courage of Wunmi, not the tattered speech of Kemi.

When she collected the microphone, the cheers resurfaced. With her hand working as if it had the power to silence them, Wunmi brought the school assembly to a perfect silence.

"I want to thank the school authority for giving me a chance to serve this school. I promise to work hard, so the school authority wouldn't have a moment to regret making me a Prefect. I do feel honoured to be one of the school Prefects. Very honoured to be the Time Regulator because I am the king of procrastination and this would probably help me sit up. So you latecomers and those of you who love roaming the school compound after the break time, should better be careful, because I will be out to get you. And if you think you can run away when you see me coming, you better think twice because I will be on your tail. I can run like the Cheetah. And I know you know that I am right."

"Heeeeeeeeeee.............."

The cheering continued after Wunmi passed back the microphone. Somehow, she felt so satisfied, cheated or not. The realisation that the students loved her was enough. The position of a Sports' Prefect could go to hell. The school was really wise in not making her assistant to Kemi. Orezi was the assistant, and Orezi was even better than Kemi. Nigeria and connection – what blood has put together, none shall put asunder.

*****

Idara dropped the recorder on her desk. She was tired. She had been trying to transcribe the interview her editor had with the new winner of the Queen of Nigeria beauty pageant. She checked her time and got to her feet and stretched her slim frame. Fifteen minutes gone past one was trouble. She hadn't had a meal yet. She stopped having breakfast when she turned seventeen because she realised it helped her function better. She settled for brunches. After brunch, no lunch for Idara. Her dinner was always at six. After that, nothing else. Just fruit drink, till the next morning.

She had missed her brunch time, and she knew she was going to disorganize her meal timetable if she ate now. She was contemplating what to do when her cell phone rang. Her caller ID showed a number she didn't know.

Her readers had a way of getting her phone number. This might be one. Idara had no strength to exchange words with a reader. Some of them always had nothing to talk about. They just refuse to understand the simple English Idara puts down, so they will call and argue blindly.

"Hello."

"Hello, is that Idara?"

"Yeap."

"Efe."

Idara frowned. Who is Efe? "Yes Efe what can I do for you?"

There was a moment of silence. "I thought we agreed that I will call you by this time, so we'd fix a date for dinner."

Idara was open mouthed, someone she didn't know? "I'm sorry, have we met?"

There was another silence, before the line went dead.

Idara was surprised the caller hung up on her. She thought nothing of it.

Some hours later, Idara was in the library going through old newspapers, looking for inspiration for her design article. She flipped through page after page. Then she stopped and went back, and stopped to star.

She wore a tracksuit and she was smiling. She was been given flowers. Idara allowed her eyes to flicker down to the bottom of the picture were the people in the picture were identified. Wunmi Davies. Her eyes roamed the other pictures. They were the ones that had Wunmi in action on the tracks; others captured her mood as a victor.

"What the hell!" A smile played at the corners of Idara's lips. The girl she'd met this morning was staring back at her from the pages of the newspaper. Idara sat with the paper and read page for page everything about Wunmi Davies. By the time she was through she felt so important, like someone who had met a star. Idara wished Wunmi would call her today. She felt so excited at the discovery of such a young girl with great potentials. It definitely would be a story for Idara to share with her readers, but first, she wanted to know more about the girl.

*****

Later in the evening, at about four thirty, when she was putting her things together to go home, she stumbled upon a complimentary card in her bag and stared at it, wondering where it came from. The name read Efe Urheigho. She closed her eyes as it hit her. The caller who identified himself as Efe this afternoon was the same guy in the bus that morning. The same guy she had sat with the day a bullet almost claimed her life. They had both dropped from the bus that morning at Ikeja and he had taken about ten minutes of her time to talk. They had exchanged complimentary cards; although he told her he no longer worked with the company whose address was written on the card.

Idara sank down into her chair. How could she have forgotten? That guy does look good. She quickly got her phone and punched in the number that was underneath his name on the complimentary card.

"Hello, Ahmed Alliance Ventures." Someone answered.

"Hello, please can I speak with Efe Urheigho?" Idara asked.

"He doesn't work here anymore."

"O forgive me." Idara rang off. What was she thinking? He told her he was going for an interview. She looked at the card in her hand. Just why did he give me this complimentary card then? She wondered. Was he trying to impress her with his former position where he was the Sales Manager? She chuckled. Sales manager! She checked her call log, looking for the number he called her with. She had so many calls that day, and only the last ten would be listed. The number wasn't there. Hard luck.

*****

Idara got off the bike and paid the motorcyclist. Before crossing to the other side of the road to board a bus going back to Mile Two, she stopped by a bookseller's stand to look around. She was addicted to foreign magazines, especially the ones that focused on supermodels.

She was browsing through an old edition of VOGUE magazine when someone tapped her from behind. Idara turned and her mouth fell open.

"Surprised?" he asked.

She smiled sweetly. "I'm rather glad, Efe."

He raised an eyebrow.

She nodded. "Yeap, I know. I forgot earlier when you called. So much work. I was pretty tired you know..." she shook her head, hoping he'd understand.

He gazed at her intently. "Aren't you surprised to see me?" Before she could answer, he continued. "I had to wait around. I knew eventually, you'd come, since you'd take a straight bus home."

Idara looked at him unbelievably. She almost wasn't going to come straight. "What if I had decided to take a different route?"

He smiled. "It'll be stressful. Girls like you don't like too much stress." He laughed. "Okay, I took a risk and it paid off ... I had to see you again," his voice dropped. "I wasn't entirely pleased that you forgot me so easily."

Idara smiled. "Well, we meet again." After she paid for the magazine, they left together for the park. On getting there, they heard the conductor calling out to passenger going to Mile Two, for N120.00.

They both stopped. "N120?" Efe asked the conductor. The fare coming to Ikeja that morning had been N70.00."

"Fuel don go. E no dey anywhere," the conductor informed them. "And road block."

Efe looked at Idara. He shook his head. "Can you believe this?"

She shrugged. They had no choice. If one refused to pay, then home would be a distant place. She peeped into the bus, and saw some passengers. They weren't the only ones. "We have no choice," she told Efe.

He was open mouthed. "You mean you'll pay that much to Mile Two?"

"I can't sleep here now, can I?"

He shook his head. "They just want to use our heads," he insisted. "Let's take a bus to Oshodi, from there to Mile Two. It will be cheaper that way."

Idara hesitated. The money wasn't her problem. It's possible he didn't have that much money. She felt at a loss. Some guys don't like when a girl offers to pay their fare. "That will be stressful, Efe. I'll pay."

He pretended to look around to hide is restlessness. "Let's go over to Oshodi," he insisted.

She stood her grounds. "I worked today and I'm bone tired. No more stress. I'll just take a straight bus home, and relax."

"I'll call you then," he started to leave.

She walked up to him. "What's your problem, Efe? I said I'd pay."

He wanted to say something, but changed his mind when he saw her countenance. "Okay." He gave in.

They boarded the bus and few minutes later were on their way out of Ikeja heading for Mile Two.

*****

The conductor did say that the road was blocked and the traffic jam on Agege Motor Road was nerve breaking. They were under the bridge that led to the International Airport, when trouble started.

Obviously, a convoy was passing. The public wouldn't know who the dignitary was. The sirens were up in the air and blaring away. The traffic was heavy but the guards escorting the convoy did all they could to clear the way for the dignitary.

"Real nonsense," Efe injected. "I wonder where they want these vehicles to climb into for them to go through."

"Hey you there ..." One policeman escorting the dignitary started at a bus driver.

Idara who was sitting close to the window saw the commotion while the others kept complaining about the country's deteriorating condition. People were running. Her left hand strained to grab Efe's arm. "What is happening?" her voice was a whisper of fright. She was remembering how she narrowly missed been hit by a bullet.

Efe's eyes went in the direction of her eyes. Then his brows closed together.

*****

After school hours, Wunmi didn't go home. She and the rest of the other appointed Prefects stayed behind. They were going to have a meeting with the school authority. They were all together in a classroom waiting to be summoned into the presence of the school ruling body.

Wunmi sat at a corner away from the others. The day had been banal. After the morning assembly, the students had gone to their various classes. Most teachers didn't go into classes to lecture. Wunmi spent a considerable time with the school's head of sports. After expressing his disappointment that she wasn't picked as the Sports' Prefect, he launched into why he'd sent for her. A letter had arrived the day before, from the Ministry Of Sports, informing all secondary schools in the country that participated in the Nigerian Secondary Schools Athletics Competition, to inform their medal winners of the African Secondary Schools Athletics Competition, which will hold in six month time. So, the athletes are being invited to camp for preliminaries.

"But the good thing is," he went on, "you are not going to the preliminaries."

Wunmi wore a confound look. "I don't understand sir," she said slowly.

"All the big winners at this year's Nigerian Secondary Schools Athletics Competition have automatic qualification. And you were the number one big winner." He smiled. "Anyway, just have it in mind that you'll be our number one hope. You are the best in Nigerian Secondary Schools, as far as I am concerned." He nodded.

Now, sitting in the classroom, with her co-Prefects, Wunmi couldn't help wondering what the outcome of the competition, which will be in South Africa, would be like. She has to start training immediately. She hoped for a lot of things. She hoped the world would watch and see her and come to her rescue. She needed her spirit to be free. She needed to do what she wanted to do.

The meeting didn't take long. Wunmi listened attentively to what the ruling body of the school had to say. At last she was on her way home.

When she arrived at the bus stop, there were no vehicles. She and other students trekked down the Agege Motor Road. They all stopped at the sounds of blaring sirens.

"This mumu people don start again," someone close to Wunmi said.

Wunmi wanted to get home and sleep. The day had been banal, but she felt drained. Her day had begun in an excited state, meeting Idara. It had gotten spoilt at the calling of Prefects. It had then soared higher with dreams of a new tomorrow; at the news the school's head of sports had given her.

There was a gunshot.

Screams rose into the air. People began running here and there. Wunmi's heart was in her mouth. She remembered her mother's words. When things like that arise, run into the nearest building. That had been after an occasion when Wunmi had experienced a riot.

More shots could be heard.

Wunmi looked around for a nearby shop and started to run with other students towards a shop. She kept running then her strength began to drain from her. She stopped to catch her breath and someone ran into her. Before she fell, she felt pain in her back and wondered if she was sweating so bad that her shirt was sticking to her back. She fell.

*****

Now, the road was blocked. No vehicle was moving. Surprisingly enough, the convoy had left the area. They had succeeded in clearing the vehicles from their way.

Idara and Efe were out of the bus. Nobody knew what was happening. She stood very close to him – feeling secured knowing he was there because she couldn't take the event of the previous week off her mind when he sat with her in the front with the bus driver. He had consoled her soothingly. Earlier in the bus when she had drawn his attention to the rising commotion, he had put an arm around her assuring her that they will get home safely. The crowd before them was terrifying.

"What exactly is happening?" Idara asked for the umpteenth time.

"The gun shots have stopped," Efe noticed. He looked around for their bus driver. From the front the vehicles started crawling forward.

The driver came running down the sidewalk. "Oya make una enter," he called to his passengers.

"Wetin happen for that side?" a passenger inquired from the driver as they filed into the bus.

He buttoned his seat belt. "I no dey sure. Dem say bullet hit one student."

"Ha. Stray bullet again!" a woman wailed. "This convoy people, they shoot to clear the road and now they are gone."

Idara was counting the minutes and praying in her mind to the Lord to get her home safely.

*****

The breaking news came on in the bus, before they got to Mile Two. The Student was identified as a seventeen-year-old student by the name of Wunmi Davies. She was shot in the back and the bullet penetrated her heart. She was identified by students of her school.

The bus was quiet. Nobody said a word.

Idara went pale. She couldn't say a word. Her hand on Efe's continued to grip him harder.

He looked at her attentively.

"This morning... that student... she dropped...Wunmi..." Idara choked on her words and broke into tears.

Efe remembered that a student had been with Idara in the morning.

*****

The next morning, every front page was of the deceased girl. There were different versions off how she died.

By midday, TV stations had gotten more information on the girl. The sports world remembered the young sensation at the just concluded Nigerian Secondary Schools Athletics Competition. Her achievements were read to the public. The state governor gave a speech. The Minister of Sports gave a speech.

The days that followed weren't so different. Friends gave sorrowful interviews. Her parents refused to talk to the press. Her school was closed for a day in her memory.

Idara was far removed from it all. She resigned from her work place. She had no concrete reason. She said she was tired. She didn't open newspapers. She didn't watch television.

*****

It has been six months since the incident. Wunmi Davies once lived, but now she is forgotten.

In her bedroom Idara piled her materials together. Wunmi lived in her mind.

Two months after the incident, Wunmi's mother had come to visit Idara. She got the address from Idara's former place of work. She brought with her a diary. She had been going through it when clearing her daughter's room and had seen Idara's name in it. The name appeared more than thrice. Wunmi wrote of her dreams. What she wanted to be in the sport's world. She wrote of the female gender. The women she respected in the country. Idara was number one on her list.

I saw her first on the cover of a magazine. Then she was on TV. I loved the way she spoke of her kind of work and her dreams for the future. I don't know her, but there was something about her that drew my attention. I pray to meet with her someday. I have no idea what to say to her when such a day comes, but I know something good will come out of it. We are girls who share the same desire of a better future of achieving our dreams.

Wunmi wrote that in her diary three months before they met in the bus at Mile Two.

Idara told the woman she'd met her daughter in a bus. The mother was glad.

"She always wanted to hold the world record for different races," the mother said.

Idara had cried that day. She read through the diary. The woman left it with her. That was two months ago.

Today in her room, she was arranging all the newspapers that wrote about Wunmi. She wanted to read everything she could lay her hands on.

Almost all the papers went into her sport life and achievement. Idara felt proud to have met such a gem. Then she read what infuriated her. It was the summary of Wunmi's achievement.

' _Wunmi Davies: at seventeen, she held the country's record time for 400, 800 and 1,200 meters. Wunmi, in the last three years, had gathered fourteen medals for the school. Six gold medals, four silvers and four bronzes. She was the country's hopeful for the African Secondary Schools Athletics Competition. On the day she died, she was chosen as the School's Time Keeper.'_

"That's an insult!" Idara cried. She read the interviews of those who knew Wunmi. She read an article on Wunmi's courageous act when she was robbed off the opportunity of being the school's Sports' Prefect. Idara couldn't stop her tears.

*****

Efe listened attentively to Idara. "Are you sure?"

Idara nodded. She had set her mind to work on the story of Wunmi Davies. From the day she was born to the day she died. A biography. She had already contacted Wunmi's parents, and they were ready to work with Idara. "Her mother said she would look into old boxes and see what she can come up with."

"What about funds?" Efe asked.

Idara had thought of that. "I would write it first. After that we'll see."

*****

Almost a year after she made up her mind on the book that was now completed, Idara started wondering how to go about publishing it. It had taken eight months of serious work for her to finally complete the book. In the process, she was busy going about looking for a sponsor for the book.

She went to Wunmi's former school. The school couldn't or weren't interested in sponsoring the book. Wunmi was once an issue, but now forgotten and lives went on.

At her wit end, Idara was determined not to give up on her effort. She visited her ex-editor. Somehow he was able to get in contact with the Minister of Sports' office. The Minister wasn't interested either. Idara was infuriated. Wunmi was one person who would have gone places if the bullet of the government hadn't snatched her life away so early. Who knew the sensation she would have caused in Sun City South Africa?

She was jaded after a day of moving around, looking for a sponsor for the book.

Idara was trying to relax and plan the next day when Efe came calling.

"I have this terrific idea." He leaned closer and kissed her full on the lips. "How was your day?"

"Despondent," she replied.

Efe flung himself into a seat.

"And your day?" Idara inquired. He had gotten the job at the Ikeja firm he'd gone to for an interview.

"Daunting. But, I feel elated at the news I brought," he smiled at her.

Idara smiled. "What are you up to?"

"I met someone at the state ministry who can talk to the sport commissioner. What we have to do is a good proposal that is very flattering. If the commissioner comes in, the minister will have a rethink. It will be a boost for the next election when the news is revisited."

Idara nodded, afraid of getting excited. She had been disappointed too many times.

"It would be in their library, around the world. It is the best thing you can do for Wunmi. There will always be a place that sports people would go to read about her."

It wasn't a bad idea. Idara went for it.

*****

The country may have forgotten but it was brought back to their minds, exactly two years after. Before the day, the newspapers carried various news items in Wunmi's memory. The Biography of Wunmi Davies was going to be launched on the same day, exactly two years after, that Idara had met her in the bus. The same day that Wunmi had died prematurely.

All at once the sports world became interested again. Even the Minister of Sports was interested. Efe had been right. He wanted to meet with Idara.

It was a day to remember. The speeches were soul touching. Idara made friends and foes with the public and the sports people. Her speech was controversial. She didn't fail to tell how the idea was rejected by people who ought to have stood for Wunmi Davies by keeping her memory alive in a book. She was invited to shows for interviews. She was invited to be the president of the non- profitable organization YOUTHSPEAK. She turned them all down. Idara couldn't take advantage of Wunmi's spotlight. She didn't do it to get noticed. She did it for a friend she knew for a day only, a friend she will never forget, one who gave her wisdom. A friend who finally taught Idara the realities of life and things that are basically taken for granted.

# AN ABOMINATION

My world has turned upside down. It has been destroyed by the one person who is supposed to have molded my life. My fifteen year old marriage is about to suffer a terrifying death out of no fault of ours.

Why should this happen to me? What about our children? I cannot even imagine what they were telling me to do. Leave my home and my husband and my children and just walk away to begin my life alone? Were they insane? This is my life! This is what I dreamed of and it has been a good one up until they tainted it.

When I met my husband, I hit a jackpot. When he asked me to be his wife, I won a lottery ticket. Before now, I believed we were a match made in heaven. I was definitely his missing rib because we were so perfect, alike in many ways and even looked like each other, according to people. Then they came and took my perfect life, love filled, joyous and peaceful, dragged it right from under my feet. It was the most unthinkable thing I could ever imagine.

It was crazy definitely. It is an abomination and I shouldn't even be saying it out loud, but how do I keep a secret this huge? What about our children? What will happen to them with this ugly and devastating news I cannot bring myself to share with my husband?

This is all my mother's doing. It is all her fault! If she hadn't left and had been in my life and raised me as a mother ought to, today will not be a chapter in my book of life.

I grew up with my aunt believing she was my mother. I never knew Rebecca; my real mother. I never even heard her name in the family. So it still surprises me that she my aunt's younger sister.

According to what I was told, Rebecca left home at fifteen and nothing was heard from her for four years. They had all thought she was dead and were surprised one day, when out of nowhere, she appeared with a seven months old baby; me.

The family had met and had planned they were going to send her and me back to my father. But Rebecca came with no intention of staying. She dropped me and sneaked out and never returned until recently, to ruin my life. Isn't this the craziest thing yet?

Two months ago, my aunt, whom I always thought was my mother, came to visit me. The children – 13, 10 and 8 year olds – are always happy to have her around and I thought they must have bombarded her with calls that they missed her.

But from the moment she stepped into the house, I could sense she wasn't in the mood to chatter with her grandchildren. After dinner, she asked me a favour. Could I please spend the night with her in the guest room?

It was really strange of course, because my husband was home. What was I supposed to tell him? She said I should tell him anything but that it was necessary and a must, and a matter of life and death, that I slept with her in the guest room.

Well, my husband was too tired, and just wanted to sleep so it wasn't an issue.

I expected my aunt to tell me what was so urgent that I had to be pulled out of my matrimonial bed for.

Before I could sit on the bed, she told me she wasn't my mother. Just like that. I looked at her quietly, realising that she wasn't done talking and that I was about to discover a big secret about my life. When she said she was actually my mother's elder sister, I felt a relief. I didn't know what I was expecting. I was a bit shocked but took it well.

She went on to tell me that my mother just returned to the house three days earlier and that they had no idea she was alive since she had been gone for almost forty years.

"My dear, I came to prepare you," my aunt said. "Because what your mother revealed, I cannot utter with my mouth."

She told me my mother and a few family members will arrive in the morning. I told her I had to go to work but she insisted I must cancel every engagement for the next day.

Had I known what was waiting in that tomorrow, I would have fled with my family.

*****

Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca! The woman destroyed my life. What sort of a mother is that? Did she hope to now be a mother to a 39 year old mother of three?

The first thing I noticed when they came the following day, was that none of the family members appeared to be in good spirit. They wore drawn faces and could barely meet my eyes or even answer my greetings. It was the first sign that whatever was wrong must be extremely serious. I remembered that looking at those faces of the people before me sent a chill all over my body.

Rebecca, the strange woman, sat away from the others and wouldn't look at me. From the moment she stepped into the house with the others, her eyes had moved from one photograph on the wall to the other; back and forth. Not once did she look my way.

I was getting nervous and wanted to know what was going on and the person who spoke was Rebecca.

"Where is Benjamin?" she asked, surprising me.

You see, it is possible for her to have talked with the family and they had told her everything she had missed out of my life, including the fact that I was married with children. They must have also told her about my husband and God knows what else. But, there was no way; none at all, that they could have told her my husband's name was Benjamin because they do not know him by that name. It isn't his first name or middle name. The only reason I know it, is because he told me his four names, but nobody ever call him Benjamin. It isn't on any of his documents.

"Benjamin?" I asked, surprised. I would have thought that someone who abandoned me as a seven months old baby, would have been all over me concerned and guilty, but no, that wasn't the case.

Finally she looked at me and in those eyes and through my surprise, I could see her battle the decision to talk or not to talk.

I looked at the others but nobody was ready to say anything. They must have decided before coming that the cross was hers to bear alone.

"I am so sorry what for I did to you and Benjamin," she had started with that name again. Why did she feel she owed my husband an apology? "Where is he?" she had asked again.

I told her he was at work and she sighed and got up. I watched her walk to our wedding photograph and stood there examining it as if it was a prized painting by the masters. "It is just as well," I heard her say. Then she turned to me and signaled that I joined her before the photograph.

"All is not well, my daughter," she had told me. "I was told you lost two children."

At that point, I lost it and I seriously yelled at her. What does she want and what is it with her statements? Is that what she came to my house for? To ask me about my husband and the late twins? She has been out of my life, all my life. She doesn't want to address that.

I was yelling. I wasn't sure what I was yelling at her and I wouldn't stop until my mother (aunt) came and held me back.

"I do not want her in my house!" I had shouted.

"You cannot remain in this house," Rebecca had said calmly. "You have to go away before Benjamin and the children get back. We will find something to tell them. You must make the sacrifice and leave, for the well-being of your loved ones."

Wow. The first insane statement I had heard was the night before when I was asked to abandon my bedroom. The next day, I was been told to abandon my home. I was about to say something when the most senior man in the family cleared his throat and told me to obey until they could reach a solution. He said, there could be no delays, which was why they came, to ensure I left the house.

"Why? What have I done?"

"No my child, it is not what you did. It is what I did," Rebecca said. "Benjamin is my son."

*****

I waited for Rebecca to take back what she had said, but she wouldn't.

"My daughter, please listen carefully," the mother I know, who raised me, had said. "This is why Rebecca returned from wherever she has been."

I faced Rebecca again. "Let me get something straight here. If I am your daughter, how in God's name, can you possibly walk into my house and my life, thirty nine years later to tell me I have to leave my family because my husband is your son?"

One of the men around came to where we were standing, took my hands with the intention of leading me to a chair but I had shoved him off. I didn't want any nonsense explanation. They all saw me grow up. They all lied to me about my mother.

"I want you all to leave my house," I had told the family.

Rebecca came and knelt beside me as she took hold of my skirt. "Please. Benjamin is my son. You are my daughter. You cannot be your brother's wife."

I had closed my eyes willing to wake up from that terrible dream. But it didn't happen. I told them again I wanted them to leave my house, but they didn't listen either. They said unless I left, they wouldn't go anywhere. They said it was temporary that they needed time to figure out what to do about the whole situation.

But what situation, I had asked them. My husband Tayo – whom everyone knows as Tayo by the way; Benjamin is his fourth name obviously given to him by Rebecca – is not an orphan. I know his entire family. So how can he be a different person? We have been married fifteen years with three children. Everything that was happening was happening very fast.

I asked for details about my husband and was told the reason Rebecca ran away from home at fifteen was because she was pregnant and nobody knew. That was three years before she got pregnant with me. She had her son, Benjamin, whom she gave away.

Three month ago, my in-laws traveled to Ghana for the wedding of a family friend's daughter. Tayo and I were supposed to go with them, but had to back out last minutes due to business reasons. From what I gathered from my family, that was where Rebecca ran into them again.

To cut the story short, she only wanted to know how her son was doing. She had no intention of meddling in their lives. So they told her everything. Rebecca recognized my name and silently wondered. So to confirm, she returned from the dead and the confirmation was that I am married to my brother.

"So if I left, what will you do? How do you intend to solve the whole mess?" I had asked them. Nobody had an answer. They hadn't figured it out. They just wanted me out of the house first, so we would stop committing the abomination we knew nothing off.

Well, I told them I wasn't going to leave the house until they arrived at a solution. I lied that fortunately, my husband was traveling in three days-time and will be gone for two weeks. I said I could use that time to go away with my children to where he wouldn't find us, and leave him a note with some excuse. I told them I would never leave my children behind.

They didn't believe I would do it. They insisted the mother who raised me will stay until my husband traveled and we left. It was perfect for me.

That evening, I had convinced Tayo that he needed to leave the house for a hotel in two days' time. I promised to explain everything. After he left, I packed myself and my children, said goodbyes to the mother I know and told her neither she nor the family will ever see me or my children again.

We moved into a small apartment in town but my intention was for the move to be for a short time while I convinced my husband that I and the children must relocate out of the country. He wanted to know what was going on and I promised him the truth once we were safely away and together. He insisted he will have to maintain two homes due to his business. I have no problem with that as long as I have my husband with me.

He is my husband, the one I fell in love with and have built a family with. It is till death do we part. But, I know the truth and it has put an invincible barrier between us. A barrier I cannot break. I freeze at the touch that once melted me and deep down, I know that even if I choose to lie to him about what has happened, we will never be the same again. The truth I know will haunt me and torment my family.

###

# About Uzezi Ekere Adesite

Uzezi Ekere Adesite is a freelance journalist and lives in Lagos, Nigeria. She authors the blog, Zayzee Writes and also shares her stories on her Facebook page of the same name. When she isn't looking for outstanding entrepreneurs to interview for her blog, she is writing.

#  Excerpts from The Call of Ciri (a novel)

By

Uzezi Ekere Adesite

# CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Glory hurried over and snatched the receiver, before it stopped ringing. "Hello." She listened, as she glanced behind her. "This is Dr. Igwe," she said touching her forehead, guessing what was coming. It was her day off. She turned around shaking her head. Just then, Ada and Chuks walked in hand in hand. She glanced behind her again and almost choked. "I, I'm on, on my way," she stammered and hung up looking behind her again.

Chuks looked in her direction. "The hospital?" he asked.

She nodded looking at him. "My colleagues are overwhelmed with patients and more just got admitted." She looked at her husband closely and wondered if he saw anything. "I have to leave now."

"Take your time," Chuks told her.

*****

As Glory sped towards St. George's Specialist Hospital , her mind kept racing back home. There was something she had to discuss with her husband. She was unsure if she wanted to discuss it with him because it will sound very ridiculous. It happened so fast Glory was still wondering if it happened at all. She wondered if she was still there. The telephone rang and interrupted them and Glory had to get it. When Chuks and Ada came downstairs, she had turned to look behind her at the visitor who didn't want them to know she was around. But she was gone. How, was what Glory wondered, because when she picked up the phone, she was facing the entry into the living room, so there was no way she could have made a way out of the living room, that Glory wouldn't have seen her.

Glory turned onto the road that led to the hospital happily. As she parked, she became relaxed. Walking towards the entranced, Glory knew her pulse was racing. What if she wasn't imagining it happened and she was actually there in the house to speak with Glory earlier before the telephone rang? Glory wondered as she got to the doors. A woman walked out. Glory gasped; her hand flying to her chest as she stumbled in her steps.

The woman walked passed her, without noticing Glory. Glory stopped, taking a long look at the woman and suddenly, she felt cold all over. She hadn't been imagining anything. It did happen and when the phone rang, she asked Glory to ignore it so that nothing had to change. But Glory answered the phone. What was Leila talking about anyway? Glory wondered again, as she shook her head and went into the building.

A nurse came over quickly with Glory's coat and led Glory to the emergency ward. The three other doctors around were in surgery.

"What's the situation?" Glory asked.

"Convulsion," the nurse read from her pad.

Glory stopped. "You called me into the hospital on my day off for convulsion?" she asked incredulously?

The nurse bit her lips. "Very prolonged doctor, the last one lasted over five minutes. Patient had difficulty breathing and was choking. Although she is stable now, the mother insisted on a doctor having a look and she has had three in a row since she was admitted."

Glory shook her head and collected the file from the nurse. "We have to run some tests."

Just as they were stepping into the patient's room, a nurse who was in there raised alarm. The girl was convulsing again. But it ended as abruptly and Glory was immediately at work. She was about to check the girl's eyes when she saw the face fully. The girl's eyes opened and Glory caught her breath as their eyes met.

She looked at the nurses.

Glory once more, looked at the sick girl. She only looked for a second before everything started spinning before her and she collapsed to the floor.

*****

Zim arrived the Igwe's house just when the phone call came from the hospital. A minute later, him, Chuks and Ada were speeding towards the hospital.

At the hospital, Ada and Zim had to wait for Chuks to come back with news of what was wrong. Ada hoped it was nothing serious. Zim had been trying to engage her in a discussion but she wasn't interested. All she could think about was Glory. "Daddy what happened?" Ada quickly jumped up when her father finally surfaced. "Is she alright?"

"She fainted," he said, "But she is fine now."

Ada sighed.

"You can go in and see her. I'll soon be back." He quickly made for the door.

Ada sprinted after him. "You're not telling me everything, daddy."

Chuks stopped. "She lost the baby, a miscarriage again," he said and continued to his car.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

She felt sad about the miscarriage but hurt they didn't tell her they were going to have a baby.

"What sort of shock would make someone pass out?" She turned to Zim.

Zim shook his head, without looking at her. He was trying desperately not to get up and drag Ada away from the hospital. The woman sitting across from them was staring at Ada in fright. Zim couldn't even look away for a second. The woman looked how Ada would look in another fifteen to twenty years. The resemblance was striking; just like Ada's with Leila. The difference was the age. For a moment, Zim turned to look at Ada again. She had her head downcast. Has she seen the woman? Zim didn't think so. He looked up towards the woman. To his surprise, the woman was looking at him. Nervously, she glanced back at Ada, then at Zim and quickly jumped off her seat and took fast tottering steps away from the waiting area. She stopped and glanced back at Ada, before disappearing into a corridor. Involuntarily, Zim shot up from his seat looking in the direction of the corridor where the woman had disappeared into.

"Zim?" Ada called gently, startled by him.

He looked down at her and sat down. "I'm sorry," he muttered, and then faced her. "Look sweetheart, do you want to go home now?"

Ada looked at him. "Okay," she said uncertainly. "Are you alright?"

He smiled. "A sudden ache in my head," he took her hand. "Come on, we'll see if Glory is awake." What a night. He shook his head.

*****

Later, when Chuks walked into Glory's room, she was awake. He went and sat by her. Taking her hand in his, he kissed it. She was watching him. Her face was still very pale.

Glory was sad about the loss of the baby, but she had no regrets. Ever since they were married, she had always known how difficult it would be to carry a pregnancy to term. Even Chuks knew, so they didn't push it after her first three pregnancies ended in the first trimester. So why does she have the feeling that her husband was sad at the turn of events? Was he sad because she didn't tell him?

"How many miles away are you?" Chuks leaned down to kiss her.

She smiled wanly. "I'm right here." She squeezed his hand weakly. "I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I wanted to get through the first trimester before raising your hopes."

"Shh," he held a finger to his lips. "It doesn't matter. I need you to be strong. Don't waste the little energy you've got."

She smiled.

"Zim and Ada were here also. But on returning, I missed them. Did you see them?" He asked her.

She shook her head. "Chuks, there's something I have to tell you."

"Not now honey," he shook his head.

"This can't wait," she said, making sure she had his full attention. "When you came downstairs with Ada, while I was on the phone, was I alone in the room?"

Chuks made a face and wondered what a ridiculous question. "Of course yes. We are just three people in that house remember? The maid left earlier."

Glory held his gaze. "Leila wasn't in the house? I mean, after I left for the hospital, you guys didn't see Leila?"

Chuks could see she was serious. "Honey, Leila is not in town. Remember they left to bury her father in-law two days ago. She cannot be back yet. They are Muslims."

"I know that," she interrupted him. "Which was why I was surprised when the doorbell rang and it was Ada at the door. At least you heard the bell ring right?" he shook his head in the negative giving her a strange look. Glory sighed. "Now I am getting scared," she said as her eyes watered up. "First I wondered why Ada wasn't with her key. I didn't even know she stepped outside."

"Ada and I were upstairs," Chuks put in.

"So I thought," Glory said. "But then, she said something was about to happen that will unravel things and that I could stop it. That was when the phone rang and she quickly asked me not to answer it until she was done explaining because it was connected to the call. I laughed it away and was going for the phone and she yanked me back with so much strength, I almost fell. She insisted it was the hospital calling and that I shouldn't come in this evening no matter what the emergency was."

"Honey, are you sure I shouldn't call the doctor? Ada couldn't have been with you when she was with me. And Ada has never taken such a tone with you."

Glory nodded. "That was why I was surprised when you guys came down and I looked behind me, and there was no one. It was at that point I realised it wasn't Ada. It was Leila."

"Glory? But of course you can tell them apart, and Leila isn't in town. Aren't you imagining things?"

Glory shook her head. "No honey. I am not. Because I thought I was as I drove down here. But on getting to the hospital, I think I knew why Leila or whoever that was – whom you guys didn't see – didn't want me to come here today."

"What are you talking about?" Chuks asked.

"Where is Ada?"

"She is not here."

Glory nodded. "Good. Don't allow her come into the hospital." She raised two weak fingers. "There are two of them. Two." she told him. "I don't think, Ada should see them."

Chuks pondered her words. Glory sounded so serious and scared all at once. "What are you talking about?" he asked gently.

Glory hesitated to collect her breath. She was still very weak. "At the hospital entrance," she began. "I saw the woman. I could have passed, but I was strong." She sighed. "The emergency patient," Glory shook her head. "A little girl. She looked at me Chuks," her voice broke and she couldn't hold the tears anymore.

Chuks was now very attentive. He used his fingers to wipe off the tears "I don't understand."

"Tell Vivian to show you the girl I was called in to attend to."

Chuks hesitated, but she urged him on and he went.

*****

Omah watched Funmi. Her daughter was sleeping peacefully. Omah knew she had come close to losing Funmi and the development has left her very confused. The whole thing made no sense to her. What sort of life was it? Whether she loved Funmi or not, what would happen would happen. Her belief that putting Funmi at arms' length would lessen the pain when Funmi was gone was destroyed. As best as she could, she'd start showering all her affection and love on her daughter. Let Funmi know she's loved. And Omah will do everything for the girl.

What actually happened was like an attitude transformer. It was just a convulsion and Omah knew how to handle convulsions but what Funmi went through was beyond her, something Omah couldn't explain. Out of fear, Omah had walked out of the hospital. Scared of hearing news she's awaited for so long. Then the lady doctor arrived. Omah didn't see her. She came back into the hospital minutes later to find everyone running around the lady doctor who fainted. Instincts told Omah something was amidst. The doctor had hurried into Funmi's room, so Omah heard. Instincts told her the doctor's fainting couldn't be further from seeing Funmi. Another dread Omah lived with; afraid someone will see her daughter and recognize the face – which was actually impossible unless the person was from Ciri. Omah had wished Funmi had taken after her father in looks. It would have made her life so much easier.

Thinking of the doctor, Omah remembered the girl in the waiting room. If that girl came over to see the doctor, then the doctor knew the girl. If the doctor knew the girl, then it was understandable why she fainted on seeing Funmi.

Nothing ever scared Omah in all her years as that girl in the waiting room did. Not even the fear she felt all those years back, when Mohammed Adamu locked her up, could compare to what the sight of that girl inflicted on her today.

Omah had been in the waiting room, trying to take her mind off latest event, when the girl had walked in with a young man and they sat opposite her. Petrified, Omah had watched the pair, the girl mostly, as each seemed lost in their own thoughts. The resemblance pulled at her memory, trying to reveal a story that was buried. As scared as she was, her eyes never left the girl. Omah kept staring and blinking, hoping the picture would disappear. But, it was real. Sitting across from her was a younger version of herself. Omah then made a mistake of glancing over at the girl's companion. He too must have noticed what she noticed because he had looked at the girl again, then back at Omah.

That was when she fled. Omah was scared. She is still scared. She couldn't take her eyes off Funmi, who was sleeping. Omah wanted a doctor to come in and tell her she was free to leave with her daughter. Definitely time wouldn't delay her. Already past mid-night or not. Omah doesn't know what will happen if she saw that girl again, so she must run. She stopped thinking suddenly, and turned towards the door. A man stood there. He was looking at Funmi, his face expressionless. Thinking he was a doctor, Omah rose to meet him. "Good morning doctor," she said. "Do you think she's alright now? Can we leave?"

He stared at her quietly in hesitation. He nodded towards the bed, not taking his eyes off her face. "Is that your daughter?" he asked gently.

Omah nodded. "Yes doctor."

"I'm not a doctor," he told her, returning his gaze to the girl on the bed. "I'm sorry. I walked into the wrong room."

Omah looked disappointed. "Oh."

"I hope she gets well soon madam," he told her kindly.

"Thank you."

Without other words, Chuks turned and walked away. He'd be damned. He wasn't sure if he should return to Glory now. All he could think of was Ada who wanted answers about her origin. He had no clues to offer her. And here at the hospital, were two clues they could explore. He was glad Ada wasn't here. He wanted to ask questions first before bringing his daughter into it. His daughter, he thought.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Omah refused to be delayed. When told they needed to watch Funmi for some few hours before discharging her, she promised to come back with the girl for checkup later in the day. The doctor walked with her out of the room giving her instructions, while he dropped Funmi's file on the nurses' counter. Omah nodded to everything she was told and walked to the door with her daughter. At the door, she stopped and looked behind her. The doctor was gone and the only person in the waiting area was sleeping. Omah asked Funmi to wait, as she walked to the counter and took Funmi's file. It had been a mistake coming to this hospital.

As Omah led Funmi through the doors into the open air, she knew she wasn't coming back here. Omah was very afraid. She didn't want things to begin to change. Not when she was about to begin the next chapter in her life. She looked down at Funmi as they walked further away from the hospital before attempting to get a taxi. Funmi had hardly spoken anything all morning. They hardly spoke to each other unless it was very necessary. But in a situation like this, Omah wanted the girl to say something. Anything.

Omah sighed. She knew her relationship with Funmi was about to take a new angle. She wanted to get to know her daughter. They will talk like mother and daughter. Share ideas and play together. All what she never did with her mother she'll do with Funmi. It's another era that Omah was looking forward to. They crossed the road at the junction from the street where the hospital was located, as a car was turning into the street.

As they stood there waiting for a taxi, Funmi looked at her mother's hand that was holding her wrist. It was tight. She wished she could withdraw her hand but Ma will yell at her, so Funmi bore the pain. Her head went up and she looked at Ma closely. Funmi could tell from the drawn expression that Ma was troubled. In fact, Ma has been troubled for as long as Funmi can remember, which is as long as Funmi has known her.

Earlier at the hospital, when Funmi was having breakfast, Ma had fussed around her, making sure Funmi was okay. It was strange. Funmi wasn't used to such attention from Ma. At first, she thought Ma just wanted the nurses to feel she loved her daughter, but even after the nurses left, Ma didn't stop. It worried Funmi and made her a little afraid, especially when Ma referred to Funmi as her darling daughter. Funmi looked up again at her mother and wished this new Ma will not disappear once they got home.

Omah was also thinking of Funmi and regretted all the time they have wasted in their relationship. They don't eat at the same time, so they wouldn't have to sit at the table together. In the sitting room, Funnmi had her own sofa.

"Always sit there, Funmi. Don't sit on the others and I won't sit on yours." She had told her daughter. When Funmi started school, Omah had registered her somewhere else, so Funmi wouldn't be a pupil in the school she taught. All these Omah did so she wouldn't grow too attached to the girl. Omah looked at her daughter and saw her staring at Omah's hand that was around her wrist.

"Are you alright?" Omah asked.

Funmi wanted to step back, but couldn't. She was hoping Ma's hand would come down on her. Funmi wanted her mother to hit her. She has wanted this for a very long time, but Ma never did. She knew that Ma doesn't love her. She wasn't like their neighbours who beat their children and pet them afterwards.

She needed Ma to beat her once. She looked at Ma.

"Are you alright?" Ma asked again.

Funmi nodded.

"Why are you crying?"

Funmi's eyes popped open. Was she? Her free hand reached up to her face. She touched her wet cheeks on both sides and looked at Ma, then down at the hand that was still gripping her wrist.

"Oh mine!" Omah dropped Funmi's hand and watched the girl rub her wrist slowly. "I'm sorry," Omah apologized.

Funmi just stared at her new mother. She apologized.

Omah not knowing what to do turned around and was on time to catch a taxi before it sped past. She faced her daughter again and offered her hand to her. "Let's go home."

Without thinking, Funmi place her hand in Omah's open palm.

As the taxi pulled away, Omah remembered that Funmi wasn't being too quiet. She brought up the girl that way so Funmi would never depend on her, and never have anything to say to her. Not even about her academics. Funmi was a bright student. Whenever she needed anything, she wrote it down on a piece of paper and left it on the table for Omah to see, when Omah got back home from school. They've gotten so used to this routine that Omah was always looking at the sitting room table, after checking the other room to make sure Funmi was home. She didn't check the table yesterday.

Omah turned her attention to her daughter who was sitting at the far end, looking out of the taxi's window. Omah couldn't remember them together, talking for more than five minutes. At times Omah would go into Funmi's room and look through the girl's things to see what needed to be replaced. At other times, the girl would simply write down her needs. The last one Omah could remember was Funmi requesting for a new school sandals. Omah had hated herself then, for not remembering the girl was growing and had probably outgrown her sandals. She also bought shoes and very expensive house slippers. Like always, when she had new items for Funmi, Omah had called Funmi to the sitting room and handed over the goods. Quietly, Funmi had tried on everything and had said 'thank you, Ma'. Those were always the words. And Omah always loved them. It gave her a feeling that she was pleasing the child, because she wanted the girl to have everything and be happy.

But yesterday changed it all. Not only did she realise that staying away from the girl wouldn't reduce any hurt that would come her way, if there'd be any. She also realised that Funmi probably had never been happy but just contented to have what she could. She looked away and brushed quick tears away. Everything about her past has taken the best out of her, including how she treated people, especially the only person she has a strong connection with – Funmi.

Omah reached out and touched Funmi on the shoulder. Funmi turned and looked at her. Omah saw her surprised look. And that hurt her. Things she has never done. Like touch Funmi without a reason. "Are you alright?" Omah asked for the seventh time, since they left the hospital.

Funmi nodded.

"Good," Omah smiled at Funmi. "Ma wants you to be happy. Do you understand?"

A surprised Funmi nodded.

She won't speak, Omah thought. "Funmi, if you want anything at all, you'll let me know, won't you?" Omah waited. "Come on, talk to me. You'll let Ma know, won't you?" Omah added anxiously.

"I will," Funmi said softly, too surprised. She couldn't tell what was happening. Her friends at school once said, when things were becoming too strange, something bad was in the house. Was Ma going to die? Funmi looked at her. She doesn't want Ma to die. There'll be no one to take care of her or buy her things, like Ma does. That's what Funmi liked her mother for; Ma gave her everything except herself. If Ma died ... she suddenly felt afraid and she couldn't look away. And her eyes filled with tears. She looked away quickly as her tears dropped.

Omah saw all that happen. Funmi's surprised look to the frightened one. She moved closer and dried Funmi's eyes with her open palm, her other arm around the girl. "Am I hurting you?" she asked anxiously.

Funmi shook her head. "I don't want you to die Ma. Are you going to die?"

For an instant Omah felt the world stop around her. "Why?"

Funmi hesitated. Then she talked about what she thought, of what her friends at school said about strange things and Ma had been behaving strange and she was scared of being alone. Then through tears she begged Ma not to die. She promised to be good so Ma will treat her like their neighbours treat their children, so that Ma will beat her, so she'll know Ma loved her.

Omah cried with her, forgetting where they were. She couldn't believe her daughter had suffered so much, observing people and reaching wrongful conclusions. The taxi stopped and she realised they were home.

As Omah closed the front door behind them, she led Funmi to the sofa. Funmi looked at her and Omah nodded. "You can sit anywhere you want." They sat down together and Omah took her hands in hers. "I am not dying, okay?" Funmi nodded." I love you. I didn't know I did, but I do, it's the truth and now that I know that I love you so much, I want you to be happy." She stopped. "Do you believe me?" Funmi nodded. "I'm so sorry for not being the mother you deserve. And I will never lay a finger on you to correct you. That wasn't how I was raised; I will not do that to you, okay?" Funmi nodded and Omah sighed.

Things will be alright now, she knew. She will not think of the girl at the hospital, or the doctor. Nobody will find her, if they cannot find Funmi's file. She will not think of Ciri and what should have been. Once school closed, she was moving away to a new place that this new beginning deserved.

But at the back of her mind, she knew it could all change at the blink of an eye. The girl in the hospital waiting room was the reminder sent to her.

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