by Kiru Taye
Ebun had dressed in a t-shirt and short cotton skirt. He pulled his tunic on but left the towel around his waist.
“Do you have a clothes dryer?” Otherwise he would have to send his chauffeur to his house to bring new clothes.
“Yes. In the laundry room,” she said. “Can you tell me what’s going on, please?”
He sat on the bed beside her. “I found you unconscious when I came to your apartment this morning and called the doctor. She recommended putting you in ice water to wake you.”
“Hang on. I was unconscious?”
“Yes. I couldn’t wake you. Did you take sleeping pills?”
She nodded. “After what happened last night, I couldn’t sleep. So I took a tablet.”
“Did you know you took more than the recommended dose?”
“I don’t think so.” She shook her head and frowned. “I don’t remember. But how did you get into my apartment. I thought you left last night.”
“I did. But I took your key. I sent you a text message to let you know.”
“I didn’t see the message. I haven’t checked my phone since last night. I think I left it on the dining table.”
He remembered he’d seen the phone there this morning. “That explains why you didn’t answer my calls.”
“But it doesn’t explain why you were calling me or why you’re here now. You were here last night. You saw that horrible video. I saw your disgust at me.”
He grimaced. He’d tried to hide some of his feelings but his revulsion at what he’d seen must have been difficult to conceal.
“I’m sorry,” he said after he exhaled a heavy breath.
She tilted her head to look at him as if he was crazy. “You’re apologising?”
“Yes. I admit I was shocked and disappointed when I saw the video. After Toyin’s death I lost my faith. I allowed resentment to take over my life.”
Ebun winced and looked away.
Kamali placed his hand on her cheek. “True love isn’t just about passion and desire. It is about showing empathy and affection through the trials of life. While I condemn what you did in that video, I cannot condemn you. It is just another trial for us to get through.”
A tear ran down her cheek as she turned to face him. “What are you saying? You forgive me?”
He took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “Of course I forgive you. I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ebun sat on her sofa, opposite the TV showing a news channel. Blood rushed in her ears and her skin tingled.
Kamali was in her kitchen. He was in her kitchen!
Her breath stalled and she pressed palms to her cheeks as her smile widened.
After he left her apartment yesterday, she’d thought she’d never see him again. That she would receive a summary dismissal at work which would be effective immediately.
But he’d come back, talking about love and forgiveness—two things she didn’t think he would offer her, considering the gravity of her actions.
Not that she’d consented to what happened in that video.
Why had she ever trusted Jonah?
He’d appeared handsome and friendly. She’d fallen for his charms.
Instead, he was a sexual predator who took advantage of her trust. Now, he had a sex tape he could use to blackmail her.
The smile disappeared from her face as her lips flattened. Fingernails bit into her palms. She wanted to wring Jonah’s neck. She could kill him for what he’d done.
“Here you go.” Kamali returned to the living room, carrying two steaming white mugs.
He wore a new blue linen embroidered tunic and trousers set that had been delivered by his chauffeur not long ago in an overnight bag. Kamali’s previous outfit had been soaked when he’d dunked her in the ice water to wake her up.
The doctor he’d called out, Ms. Okoro, had checked Ebun out and bandaged her arm. Ebun had been embarrassed at the trouble she’d caused and also having to explain the injury. Luckily, neither the woman nor Kamali had brought up the cuts on her arm.
Before leaving, Ms Okoro had instructed Ebun not to operate any machinery, drive a car, or even cook food for the next twelve hours. So she couldn’t use the washing machine or dryer to clean Kamali’s wet clothes.
Now, she pulled the storage box under the coffee table and took out two chrome coasters which she placed on the surface so it wouldn’t be stained by spilled drink.
Kamali deposited the drinks on the coasters and sat next to her.
“Thank you,” she said as she reached for her mug.
“Don’t thank me yet. You need to drink it first,” he said, sounding uncertain.
“Why?” She tilted her head to look at him.
Frown lines marred his rugged face and the grey in his cropped hair seemed more obvious this morning. “It’s the first time I’m making coffee for anyone. I don’t want to poison you.”
Warmth spread through her chest and she giggled. “You’ve never made coffee before?”
He shrugged. “First of all, I’m not a coffee drinker. And as you also know, there’s always someone on hand to do stuff for me. I’ve never had to do it before. And now I’m responsible for your well being, I don’t want to mess it up.”
This man she knew. The man driven by excellence in everything he did.
By displaying uncertainty in something as simple as making coffee, he also proved to be human, an endearing and sweet man, descriptions she wouldn’t have used for him before last week in Katsina.
She blew into the cup, inhaled the smell of roasted coffee beans and took a sip. “Mmmhh. Sweet and creamy. Perfection.”
“Good.” He grinned.
Her heart skipped a beat. How did she get this lucky? How did she end up with a man who was handsome and funny and kind? She still tried to wrap her head around the events of the past week.
“What would you like to eat?” he asked.
“I ...” She would’ve offered to cook but she remembered the doctor’s instructions. Plus, she hadn’t bought any food in over a week. Her cupboards were empty. “Are you going to cook? There’s no food in the house.”
“No. I’m going to send Ahmed to pick up whatever you want. If there’s a specific restaurant you prefer, then we’ll order from them.”
“Okay. Let me find my phone and I can look up the menu for Yellow Chilli.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll get the phone and your bag so you can write down exactly what you want.” Kamali patted her hand before getting up.
“You’re very good at being nurse.” She relaxed into the cushions. She wasn’t ill, just experiencing the side effects of the sleeping pills she’d taken. But she enjoyed the attention and fuss from Kamali.
He just gave her more of that bone-melting grin as he strode to the dining room. With his bare feet slapping the slate tiles and his relaxed demeanour, he appeared at home here.
“Here you go,” he said and passed the tote he’d brought from her bedroom.
On her phone, she found the website and then wrote the items she wanted. “What are you having?”
“You pick for me. I’m not fussy.”
“Cool.” She knew some of what he liked from the occasions when he’d eaten lunch in the office or during an event.
When she finished, he called Ahmed to her apartment and gave him the list to take to the restaurant.
Afterwards, Ebun sat curled up next to Kamali, her head on his shoulder and his arms around her as they watched the business news.
He caressed her bare, left shoulder and upper arm. “Nawa, why did you hurt yourself?”
She didn’t miss the sadness in his gentle voice. Shame scorched her cheeks and she tried to pull away.
He didn’t let go. “Please talk to me. I’m not condemning you. I just want to understand why you would mutilate yourself.”
“But that’s the thing, I’ve never felt good enough.” Tears built up behind her eyeballs and her throat hurt. “The first time I scratched u
p my arm was the night I found out my father wasn’t coming back to live with my mother and me. Ever since I’ve felt as if I wasn’t good enough and other things that happened in my life only reinforced that notion.”
She finally managed to disentangle from him and stood up. As adrenaline surged inside her giving a boost to her lethargic body, she paced.
“When I was in elementary school, I was the only black kid there. I hated break times because none of the other children would play with me. In secondary school, the other blackish kids were mixed and I still wasn’t good enough for them. My friends were other outcasts, Goths and punk kids. I sought validation with anyone who would give it to me. I was lucky I didn’t get pregnant and that I was an intelligent student. I guess a part of me always wanted the ultimate validation from my father. I thought if I went to university and got a good degree and had a successful career, I would eventually win his approval and love.”
Her hand flailed as she talked. She reached the balcony doors and turned around.
Kamali had twisted in the seat so he could watch her.
“With time, I’d learnt to cope, although I still had moments when something would trigger those intense negative emotions. Last night, when you walked out, a switch flicked inside my head and I was back in that dark place again, feeling unworthy. Even now, I feel inadequate. Do you know what that feels like?”
“I do,” he replied simply.
“No, you don’t,” she retorted with a shake of her head. “Your family adores and support you. Your employees respect you. Your competitors fear you. You’re a man with the world at his feet.”
“And yet my wife betrayed me.”
There was something in his voice that sent a chill down her spine.
She sucked in a harsh breath. “What?”
“Toyin, my late wife, cheated on me during our marriage. When I found out, she accused me of being boring in bed. She hurled insults at me including calling me Mr. Missionary because according to her that was the only sexual position I knew how to perform.”
“Goodness!” Ebun covered her mouth with her hands as coldness hit her core. Her eyes bulged as she stared at Kamali.
Surely that couldn’t be right. She’d seen the pictures of Kamali and Toyin on their wedding day. They had appeared blissfully happy.
“Do you know what that does to a man’s self esteem to find out that your wife repeatedly preferred the company of other men? Not just once or twice but all the time we were married. And then when I told her I would divorce her, she killed herself by drinking poison."
Ebun’s stomach rolled and she suddenly felt sick. She flopped into the armchair as her legs gave way. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Nobody knew about her betrayal, except my mother. Her family knew that she died from suicide although they blame me for her death.”
“How can they blame you? She cheated on you and committed suicide. The fault is entirely hers.”
“Just before she died, she sent an email to her older brother and told him that she’d found out that I was having an affair and wanted to divorce her. So she had resorted to killing herself because she couldn’t live without me. Can you imagine?”
“What a bitch!” Ebun exclaimed unable to contain her outrage on his behalf.
“Yes, she was quite a piece of work.”
“You should have told her family that she cheated on you.”
“I doubt that it would’ve made a difference. She was the gem in her father’s crown. He had always adored and spoiled her. I’d thought after marriage that her bratty behaviour would change but it never did.”
He sat on the coffee table in front of her and clasped her hands in his. “I’m telling you this now so that you can understand my behaviour last night. It brought back memories of Toyin and her affairs. When I saw that video I thought ‘not another woman like Toyin’. I couldn’t bear it if you are not satisfied with the affection and passion of one man only.”
“Mali, listen to me.” She tightened her grip on his fingers. “I don’t have eyes for any other man. You don’t have to feel inadequate with me. I will have you in my life and in my bed any day of the week and twice on Sundays.”
“Do you promise?”
“I do.”
“If there’s anything you want to experiment with, just talk to me about it. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to give you pleasure. I will worship your body. I’ll even do the monkey dance while hanging off the rafters if that’s what you want.”
She giggled. “I’m not sure about hanging off the ceiling. But I’ll happily do the monkey dance in bed. So let’s go and experiment right now.”
He chuckled. “First of all, the food will arrive any minute. Secondly, you’re not one hundred percent yet. I want you to remember every time, my dear. This brings me to the other thing. Finding you unconscious scared the life out of me. I think I aged by ten years. Please, promise that you will stop taking those pills.”
She frowned. “But I might need them when I can’t sleep sometimes.”
He shook his head. “During our visit to Katsina, you had no problems with insomnia.”
She shrugged. “That could be because you were in bed with me most nights.”
“Then when we’re married you won’t need the pills as we’ll share the same bed.”
“Are you serious?” She squealed, as adrenaline rushed through her.
“Yes, I am. I’m on a business trip for most of this week. But when I get back I want us to start making wedding arrangements. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ebun’s mobile phone rang during lunchtime on Wednesday as she sat in her office eating the chicken salad one of the clerks in her team had bought for her.
It was back to business as usual in the office.
Her dread over the sex tape had vanished on Monday when Kamali confirmed that someone had hacked Jonah’s computer and phone and deleted all the incriminating images. Her ex had no axe to swing over her head any longer.
The icing on the cake had been when Kamali had received news that Jonah and Pete had been arrested at the airport and had been charged with regards to illegal drugs found in their possessions. There stood a strong chance that both of them would lose their jobs and be deported to their home countries.
Satisfaction had surged through Ebun that the men would receive justice even if not directly linked to her.
Yesterday, she and Kamali had arrived at work, in different cars, because Kamali had to go home for a change of clothes.
Most of the day had been spent apart. They’d shared a working lunch in his office. Then he’d had to head home to pack for his trip to New York. She could have gone with him. But they’d agreed it wasn’t good for both of them to be away from the office for another consecutive week.
She would admit her schedule proved hectic enough for her not to miss him during the day. She’d missed his presence last night, though.
The buzzing of the phone pulled her from her thoughts and she picked the phone from the desk.
“Hello,” she said, not recognising the number.
“Hi, Ebun. This is Tunji. Do you remember me?” the man said.
Her heart jolted and her stomach sank. With all the drama happening between her and Kamali, she’d forgotten her half-brother’s phone call last week.
“Of course. Hello, Tunji,” she kept her tone noncommittal, not sure what to say to him.
“How are you?”
“I’m great, thanks. You?”
“I’m good. Did you get a chance to think about what we discussed last time? I told Dad that I spoke with you and he was overjoyed. He really wants to see you soon.”
“Are you in Nigeria?”
“Yes, I’m in Lagos at the moment. But I can plan another trip with Dad when it suits you.”
“No, it’s not necessary. I’m in Lagos too.”
“Wow. You’re in Lagos? Tell me where you are and I’ll come over.�
�� He sounded excited.
“I can meet you later tonight after work. Can you get to Victoria Island?” She didn’t want to tell him that she worked in Ikoyi.
“I work in VI so that won’t be a problem. Where do you want to meet?” he asked.
“Let’s do Reams Restaurant at 7pm.” That would give her time to finish work and get there.
“Works for me. I’ll have a reservation under Tunji Atta. I look forward to meeting you tonight.”
“Same here,” she said before they said their goodbyes.
***
Butterflies fluttered in Ebun’s tummy as she walked into the restaurant at 6.45 p.m. that evening.
She’d spent most of her life wanting to connect with her family. And it looked like she was about to, finally.
“Good evening, madam. Table for one?” the head waiter said.
“No. I’m meeting Tunji Atta. Has he arrived?”
“Yes. I’ll show you to the table.”
He walked ahead until he reached a table for two set close to the corner.
Ebun recognised Tunji from his profile photo on Facebook.
“Hi, Tunji.” Ebun said and extended her hand. “I’m Ebun.”
Beaming a smile, Tunji stood and took her hand in a shake. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”
“Same here.” She took the seat the waiter pulled out.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the man asked.
“A bottle of still water,” Ebun said.
“I’ll have some water too. So bring an extra glass,” Tunji said. He already had a glass of what looked like whisky.
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said and left them with menus.
“I was really surprised when you told me you were in Lagos. How long have you been working here?” Tunji asked.
“About three years,” she said. “The company I worked for merged with another and I had the chance to come to Nigeria. What about you? Have you always lived in Lagos?”
She already knew the answer but she wanted to change the focus of the conversation away from her.
