Entangled: A Little Too Many, A Little Too Close

by Kenneth Igiri

  Patricia was a sister he knew from a young people's fellowship he had led before he went to the university. They had a thing going but it was not romantic. She wasn't physically attractive to him but her personality was rare. She laughed a whole lot, had spiritual depth and simply just knew him well. She offers to do amazing things for him with no strings attached. By some stroke of chance or providence, they ended up in the same University two years apart. She would cook meals for him and bring to his room, run errands when he was working on his final year project, get him things from home when she travelled. It was amazing. The relationship spilled over to real life and they met in Lagos and kept talking. She hardly called but when she did it was a long chat like old friends meeting again. She even planned holidaying in Accra, but he dissuaded her. He knew he would have to be the one to take care of her and somehow wanted to avoid that.

  Mrs. Amarachi Ade-Williams could have been Mrs. Amarachi Ezeani almost a decade previously. He loved her from their first year, but they finally got close working together in their third-year project. Maybe Philip had not tried hard enough. Maybe he was too spiritual about his approach. maybe he did not look like someone ready for marriage back in his final year when he proposed marriage to her the first time. She was the only woman he had tried such a venture with. He could not take the response, it did not turn out positive. It was compounded by two other "NOs" the year after and the year after the year after. the amazing thing was they were always very good friends and he interpreted her concern for love. She had already set her wedding date when he made the last attempt and someone else had to tell him she was engaged already.

  How could he have known. She knew he loved her too much and did not know how to communicate the true situation of things softly. It had to come from a mutual friend of theirs. She was herself interested in Philip to a fault and was glad to tell him that Amara was gone so maybe he could then open his eyes and see her. He didn't. Well he did open his eyes but he didn't see her.

  Lara was a true friend. Back then they lived in the same neigbourhood and were always at each other's throats. Everyone thought they made a good match since they could quarrel so much and still remain friends. She had moved to South Africa and then to Seychelles, earning a lot of money but still single. She was herself very choosy and he knew just about every man who had tried to woo her as well as their list of flaws. She knew his stories too, including the details about Mrs. Ade-Williams. She never thought of him as a prospect. They grew up together, like brother and sister. It was weird but true, long term relationships seemed to fail translation to marriage. or maybe they just took each other for granted and kept looking elsewhere for something or someone more exciting. the exciting always become the normal.

  Mrs. Ade-Williams was on Philip's mind after being married for five years. They spoke every now and then. She was pleasant, courteous and tried to emphasize to him that it was impossible for him to be married to her. She was married. She did not say this directly, she just told him stories of men who really liked her and how she responded to them nicely but firmly. her husband was almost out of the country and when she did not go with him, she was out and about in Abuja or elsewhere with her kids or alone. She haunted him. Why hadn't it worked out? Why was he the second best on her list. A list of reason would flood his mind every now and then. He could have had two or three kids. It was most likely because he did not have a good job then. Money. That was it! Money.

  Philip was always put off by rich, blue chip company alumni coming back to school to marry young ladies. he always concluded money had something to do with the equation. Old? Well, to someone in his early twenties, thirty-five was old especially when the bride in question happened to be one of his playmates. Someone had mentioned to him back then that financial security was an inescapable aspect of the marriage contract. Well they hadn't used those words, they didn't have such sophisticated, poetic vocabulary back then.

  That evening, he would call her to settle the issue. Why did she reject him? It was a bother for years. He got back to his empty house early. Mr. Anani, his neighbour had come out to check who it was. He normally wasn't home this early. While unlocking the door he stared into his iPhone. He had ignored two more calls from Victoria that day. Contacts. Search. Amarachi Onuoma. Yes, he still stored her number with her maiden name. Such severe hurts were hidden deep in his subconscious.

  "My big brother in Accra! Been a while." Philip heard after a ring or two.

  Amarachi often answered the phone in an excited tone with expressions that he interpreted as affection somewhere in his subconscious. Little did he know that she was just as excited about every one of her close male or female friends. This affection detection was just something he made up in his own mind; his own love for her bouncing off and hitting him. These mind games we play on ourselves....

  Philip chuckled. Amarachi continued.

  "What is tickling you? Anyway, how are you doing and to what do we owe the honour of this august call?"

  "Ha Ha. Well I just thought to say hello..."

  "OK. Good idea. It’s been long since we heard from you?"

  "Well, sometimes I just like to keep my distance for a while to avoid being too intrusive?"

  Amarachi burst out laughing. Philip blushed, embarrassed that he had said things that made little or no sense.

  "Intruding in what? Na you sabi! Philip na wa for you o. Renew your mind, we are just friends as long as you are OK with that."

  "Of course, you are still my friend, but I often feel I am intruding..."

  “I hu kwa! O zu go, biko”

  Philip laughed out loud again. He had always admired Amarachi's bluntness. It was one of her most significant advantages with him. She could never hold anything she needed to say back.

  "So how may I help you? Before you tell me, my time is up since you are now regulating your friends ..." Amarachi added. Philip chuckled again.

  He felt so at home with her. They could talk for hours none stop. But she was now another man's and he needed to respect that. He had been absolutely convinced she was for him back in the day. In his final year he had had so many dreams about her which he interpreted as messages from God that he could not convince himself he was wrong even if he tried. He had even told David Osiezaga, a fellowship leader and a close mutual friend that if it did not turn out that she married him, he would conclude that God does not speak through dreams! Dreams. Such tricky experiences.

  Philip's mind roamed and arrived at events six to eight years earlier. On a certain occasion he had returned to school to sort out issues regarding his National Service. He arrived Friday morning and planned to leave the same weekend. He had been communicating with her for a couple of months: emails, phone calls, Yahoo Chat. Love notes, poems, reports of his life's progress. Things seemed OK.

  "Philip. Are you there?" she broke into his thoughts sharply. He must have been lost in the past for ten seconds.

  "Yeah. Yeah. Errr..."

  "So, have you finally chosen someone?"

  He didn't laugh this time. His mood had been dampened by memories.

  "No. Not yet..."

  "Oh Philip. when?"

  "I actually wanted to ask something..."

  "I see. More important than your getting married?"

  "Well... I guess it is in fact about my marriage?"

  "I see. Shoot..."

  "I don't want you to be taken aback by this. I just need to know, and I think it is time for me to really know..."

  "I am listening"

  Amarachi herself was now a little suspicious. What was this about?

  "I would like to know why we did not get married"

  There was a pause of five seconds. It seemed like the half-life of a carbon fourteen isotope. At least to Philip. Had he asked the unthinkable. He had hurriedly blurted it all out not allowing himself the luxury of a change of mind after the prolonged small talk. Philip waited. Carbon isotope. Breathing on both sides was heavy for those seconds. Amarachi answered
very deliberately. He noticed the change in her tone.

  "Philip. I actually thought we had gone past this? Why are you asking me this after close to seven years? You are living in the past, Philip! You need to let go. Oh! Unbelievable..."

  Philip waited.

  "Philip look, the answer to this question is of zero use to you right now. As in zero!'

  "I still want to know"

  "I am changing the topic"

  "Amara, why is it a problem to answer this question"

  "Why are you just asking the question, Sir?"

  Amarachi wanted to end the call so badly but the strength of the relationship did not let her go that far. She was upset to say the least. In her mind everything about a possible romantic relationship was over with years ago. They were friends, just great friends. The tension on this call was unhealthy. Amarachi did not see this coming. Philip was not backing down; he had to have the answer. The call ended.

  What? She ended the call. That was a big shock to Philip. How could she do that? He redialed the number and got feedback from his telephone company's recording: he had run out of airtime. Unbelievable how expensive it had become to call Nigeria. Amarachi was grateful for the break.

  "He cut the call on me" she blurted out and turned from the dining table to her husband. He chuckled.

  "You and your boyfriend are quarrelling"

  As far as Amarachi was concerned, Dapo was the most easy-going man she had met. She, taking into account her happy-go-lucky nature, could not have imagined a more accommodating husband. Oladapo was it!

  "Oh, Dapo this is serious! How can he be asking me why we didn't get married?"

  Oladapo Ade-Williams dropped the book in his hand face down on his lap. Part of the book was on his shorts and the other on his naked right thigh. He felt the cold from the paper.

  "So why don't you want to tell him?"

  "Why should I? It doesn't make sense. What has he been thinking all these years? You men are funny o"

  Dapo Chuckled again. He had such a calm disposition like someone completely consumed by the Holy Spirit. Never upset, never disturbed, never worried. Life was very simple for him and this made him a great match for Amarachi.

  "So, what will you lose by telling him? Maybe it will help. "

  Amarachi gave her husband a queer look.

  "You don't want to hurt him. Well maybe he is already hurt and has been hurt for a long time. You know Philip is a very deep person, he must have taken his time before deciding to propose to you so maybe he has not forgotten you like you think he has. Some people handle such things much more easily than others..."

  "Look Dapo I just do not understand it. Why will he not just forget me and marry someone else? It bothers me! When he called I even thought he was going to tell me he had someone now. He is acting immature abeg!"

  Another chuckle.

  The phone rang again. She did not pick. She was not ready to continue the discussion. Philip was not giving up on this either. It had hunted him for far too long and he had to end it. What would he do with the answer? Nothing was going to change; his first love was married to someone else. It was a struggle for him back then, watching those who had graduated long before him living in big cities all over the world return to campus years after graduation to woo sisters whom he considered his playmates. School does that to one, obscures some of the realities of life. He wouldn’t have imagined that someday he himself would repeat the same cycle.

  Philip called again. She picked this time. She could not keep ignoring him, she cared too much. Another difficulty Philip had: distinguishing among the numerous complex emotional expressions of woman with similar symptoms. In his dealings with the many women in his life, he often found himself asking bizarre questions: Does she love me or just care about me? Does she pity me or like me? Does she think of me as a possible candidate or just as a nice brother? Does she have feelings for me specifically or is she just being as nice to me as she is to everyone else? Complications! Part of the problem was that he often asked only one person these questions: himself.

  "Hello," Amarachi answered, doing her best to strip her voice of all emotion.

  "Amara"

  "Yes...". She smiled to herself, enjoying the pursuit in some way. She always wanted him to be more aggressive. Maybe that was the catch? Aggression. Philip lacked aggression. He would rather wait for a lady to come to him. And they just kept coming.

  "Amara, I need to know. I would not have called you at this hour if I did not really want an answer"

  "So, you want an answer?"

  "Yes, please"

  "Are you ready for any answer?"

  "Yes?"

  "In fact, what are you even going to do with this answer?"

  "Amara!"

  "Look Philip do not raise your voice at me. That is uncalled for. You are trying to dig up something that is dead and buried. I am sorry but that is what I said: dead and buried! You have to move on. Move on, Philip!"

  "I am sorry for raising my voice, but you are stretching me. Just tell me what I need to know. I do not intend to disturb you. There is no need to drag this. Just tell me where I went wrong. Maybe it would help me understand myself better."

  Amara thought for a while and then calmed down for a minute. She knew she needed to communicate the truth gently even though she felt it was totally unnecessary. Philip was digging up dry bones.

  "Philip,” She started, “First I want you to know that I have always respected you and considered you a great person. As a person, you are great. There is no doubt about that. I hope you know that that is my opinion of you?”

  “I appreciate that”

  “So, there is nothing wrong with you per se. I simply had to make a choice that I felt was in line with God’s will for my life. Aside this, I sought counsel and arrived at the fact that two people from broken homes may have a tough time balancing their roles as husband and wife. Nothing more. I considered that wise counsel and made my choice based on God’s leading. Now I really want us to leave this matter behind and look ahead. Believe me I have been praying for you to find the right person for you and I believe we can still contribute to each other’s lives positively. O kwa ya[3]?"

  Philip was so silent and the atmosphere so tense that Amarachi wondered whether she had done the right thing. She called out to him twice and received no answer. She called a third time:

  "Philip, are you there?"

  "But..." Philip's voice shook. She was afraid he would shed tears. he definitely had not seen that coming. The implications were profound. His naivety became even more apparent to him. How could he have assumed so much?

  Amarachi made facial expressions to her husband showing her discomfort at the awkward situation. She could have given anything to drop the call at that moment but that would have complicated the issue. she fidgeted on her seat by the dining table, uncomfortable.

  "Philip, you said you were ready for the answer. That is the answer o. I hope we are still friends?"

  He could almost feel the smile on her face at the other end of the telephone line. The genuineness of her love and patience was simply hard to find. He breathed deeply.

  "OK. Thanks Amara. I completely understand. I appreciate your telling me this and I am willing to be friends."

  He did his best to sound in control even though the answer weighed heavily on him. It was not what he expected. But what did he expect? He wasn’t quite sure. One part of him was satisfied that he had received an answer, another part was not satisfied with the answer he had received. He spoke with Amara for a few more minutes and dropped the call.

  Philip typically would retreat to Social Media after such depressing encounters. A broken home. Something he could in no way change. A broken home. Something that was not his fault. If she had said he was not polished enough for her, he could have argued it was something he could learn. If she had said he was not well built he could work on that. Bad breath? Oversized shoes or shirts? Too tall? Too short? maybe he could have do
ne something about any of these shortcomings. But coming from a broken home? What could he have done about that? Absolutely nothing!

  He noticed Lara online and placed a Skype call. The discussion was filled with Amarachi and sympathies from Lara. She was always sympathetic even though she was not in a relationship herself. He hardly ever talked about her own challenges. It was easy to see that most of the time his attention was in a certain direction: on himself.

  The Car is Mine

  “Whoever has no rule over his own spirit

  Is like a city broken down, without walls.” Proverb 25:28

  Zainab's had travelled to Nigeria. It would have been her fourth week in Ghana. Philip felt like an abandoned baby. Hardly was he able to stay home after work. The Volkswagen Toureg V6 Sport made engaged him in very pleasant cruises late into the night when Accra's roads were least busy. 280 hp, 17-inch Sima wheels, Bi-Xenon headlights, all-wheel-drive, 8-speed auto-transmission. The machine just had to be used. it was purchased brand new, moonlight blue in colour, worth showing off. Simply being seen coming out of this enigma anywhere in town earned him some respect. There was a disturbing twist to his evening trips though: he was often alone or with a single lady. One would have thought he would want to go with friends and enjoy platonic evenings like most single folk his age looking for genuine relationships. If he wasn't visiting, he was alone and when alone, he made new friends.

  Was he hiding something about his movements? Possibly. He would never go out of his way seeking out questionable activities or places at night, but he did come across some fringes of what a typical Christian would consider appearances of evil when he passed by Vienna City on his way to Nsikan beach on High Street, when he drove through Lagos street, East Legon or Oxford Street, Osu. These locations did not mean much during the day but in the region of ten or eleven P.M. it was almost guaranteed that Philip would run into skimpily dressed ladies who wanted a lift home; often his own home not theirs. That was way across the line for him. One would wonder whether his line was at the correct position given his personal history and background.