Always Yours (Lagos Romance Series)

by Somi Ekhasomhi

  I sighed. “Yeah and then what”. I paused and thought about it. “Nothing will change” I continued. I’m still going to love him and he’s still going to marry Folake.” I shook my head. “There is no happy ending to this.”

  No happy endings.

  Why do you always have to run away?

  The weekend was dull, I cleaned my flat, shopped and edited articles on my computer. By this time I was really afraid that he would never call again. This, if I was truthful to myself, would have been the sensible thing for him to do at the time. But I didn’t want him to do the sensible thing, I wanted him to love me, passionately and without control.

  By Sunday morning I was a wreck, I went through the motions of going to church and getting ready to go see my parents. I would have stayed at home and watched TV, or just moped around, watching sad movies or playing all my sad love songs over and over again, but my mother had called, complaining about not seeing me the previous weekend.

  I had changed into a light sundress after church, and a pair of flat sandals. I wasn’t really looking forward to the drive, but as I had little choice I locked my flat and descended the stairs to the parking lot. Hearing but not really hearing the sounds coming from the other flats, Sunday sounds, television, and movies and cooking and children and other happy sounds that had no place in my life at that particular moment. When I got downstairs I walked blindly towards my car not really caring to see the children playing on the lawn or people lounging on their balconies. I didn’t want to see their happiness when mine was nowhere to be found.

  It was a sixth sense that made me stop and look up. What else can I call it? The sudden tension I felt in my stomach, the way my knees went weak and my heart started to beat faster, rising to a crescendo when I looked up and there he was, right in front of me, stepping out of his car with a grace that showed none of my shakiness, my clumsiness or my confusion.

  The slam of the car door as he closed it jolted me out of my self induced stupor. I was suddenly scared, I watched him walk towards me and realized I didn’t know what to say to him. It’s easy to know you want someone, but what do you do with them when they are right in front of you? I had to fight the urge to turn and run away.

  In moments he was standing right in front of me. I couldn’t look up at is face, so I stared at his chest instead. It felt like I was enveloped in him. By just standing in front of me he was making the hairs rise at the back of my neck, making my throat thick. The smell of his now familiar cologne wafted around me and just that part of him made me full of so much longing I didn’t trust myself to move, or speak.

  “Hi.” He said at last. His voice was firm and strong, he wasn’t shaking or trembling like I was. How could he be so calm, so smooth when I was in so much confusion that it took all my strength to even stay standing?

  “Hi” I said to his chest.

  I watched as he rolled his car key around in his right hand. His fingers clenching and unclenching around it, were we just going to stand here and do nothing, say nothing?

  “Are you going to see your parents?” he asked.

  I sneaked a look up at his face and nodded. How was it that after so many days of silence we were having this conversation, about going to see my parents? I almost burst into nervous laughter. What had I expected? That he would come to me with a declaration of undying love?

  “I thought so.” He said. Then silence again. I looked towards the lawn, the gate, the sky, anywhere but his face, from nowhere the urge to cry hit me like a brick, and I blinked frantically to stop the tears from coming. What was happening to me? Who was this teary weak kneed girl? In just a few weeks Michael had turned me into a version of myself I hardly recognized.

  “I’ve been at my parents place.” He said after a while. “They’re having a soiree later in the day.” He continued “I was there helping. I think”

  I smiled at that and looked up at him. He smiled back. It felt like a ray of sunshine had burst open in front of my face. Suddenly the past week didn’t matter. I was just very happy that he was standing here in front of me

  “I thought since I was so close I should come over here.” My smile seemed to have given him encouragement to keep talking. “Though I wasn’t so sure if you would want to see me.” He smiled ruefully. “So now you can tell me to get lost”

  “Why?” I asked softly. “I don’t want you to get lost.”

  “That’s reassuring.” He said earnestly. “I’ve been sitting in that car questioning my sanity, wondering if you would just come out and… what’s that word again..?” he thought for a moment. “Yes!” he said remembering. “Blank! I thought you’d just come down and blank me completely”

  I laughed at his choice of slang. It had gone out of fashion ages ago, then I remembered why I was downstairs, that I was going out, I looked towards my car. He caught my look.

  “I could take you” He said with something like hope in his voice. “I wouldn’t mind an afternoon at your parents. You could pay me back with an evening at mine.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, trying to hide my elation but failing miserably. There was nothing I wanted more than to spend the entire day with him. Folake, and everything she meant to him, and to us, I had conveniently forgotten.

  He looked at me, and then without replying he started to lead me towards his car.

  9. Families and Fiancées

  It was fun at my parent’s house. My mother fussed over Michael, and made him look at almost all the family albums we had, showing him my older brother Daniel’s wedding pictures, my graduation pictures etcetera.

  For once my sister Cynthia was quiet as Michael teased her about how small she had been the last time he saw her. Even my brother had nothing to say about his nintendo, he just stared at Michael in awe.

  At lunch my mother heaped Michael’s plate, ignoring all his protests. While we ate he talked politics and the economy with my father with I and my mother joining in occasionally.

  After lunch while I and my mother were doing the dishes I waited for the inevitable questions.

  “He’s such a nice young man.” She started as she handed me plates to dry and place in the cupboard. “I’ve always liked him”

  I nodded and said nothing.

  “I’m glad you people are still friends.” She continued. “I used to wonder why you suddenly stopped talking about him.”

  “Hmmn” I said noncommittally. I wondered if she was already planning our wedding in her mind. The thing about mothers of daughter my age is that, weddings are never far from their minds. I wondered whether to tell her that he was engaged, or whether to keep her hoping.

  “Well he’s exactly the sort of young man I’m glad to see around you” she continued, obviously not discouraged by my silence.

  “Mummy” I said. “We’re just friends”

  She smiled and said nothing. In the next moment Cynthia walked into the kitchen conveniently too late to help. Both I and my mother ignored her naughty smile, we were used to her.

  Back in the living room my father, Michael and Chris were watching TV and talking about football. I wasn’t really interested in a discussion about the Scholls, the Lampards, the Van Persie’s and the Fergusons of this world so I just sat and half-listened to them.

  I didn’t want to read too much into the way he just fit into my family, Michael was very well mannered, he would fit in anywhere, but it was pleasurable to watch him laughing and enjoying himself with the men in my life. Somehow I knew that he’d get on well even with Dan.

  At some point Chris finally managed to overcome his shyness and ask Michael to come play a game on his Nintendo. I got invited along as either a judge or a referee, I’m not sure which. It was fun watching them play, Michael actually managed to win a couple of times, something no one else in the family had ever done.

  As usual, towards evening, my mum retrieved all the food she’d packed up for me in the freezer and supervised as Michael and Chris loaded them in the Michael’s car. I noticed the w
ay she looked at Michael almost maternally and wondered if I had done the right thing bringing him home. It was bad enough that I was hung up on him. I didn’t want my mother to also become hung up on the idea of him as a son in law.

  It was already getting to dusk as we drove back to my flat. The roads were free, which was good. I watched him as he drove, he looked relaxed, his beautiful hands light on the steering wheel, and every so often he would turn to look at me and smile.

  I wondered if he had enjoyed himself. It mattered to me that he should like my family and that they should like him. It mattered to me, even though deep down I knew I shouldn’t read anything into it.

  By the time we got to Third Mainland Bridge, it had gotten a little cold, I may have shivered a little because he glanced at me and without a word lowered the AC. I smiled gratefully at him, pleased at the small gesture that showed he cared, and turned to watch the little shanties at the water’s edge. It filled me with wonder, how from up on the bridge they looked so picturesque and charming with the tendrils of smoke drifting into the air from each hut. But one could only imagine how bad they truly were, dirty and unsanitary.

  In no time at all we were at my place. Michael insisted on carrying all the packages while I watched, feeling useless. It was nice to have a guy do it for me though, it made me feel girlish and nurtured. It was very manly of him.

  Manly! Silently I smiled at the adjective my subconscious had chosen, as if he could even be anything but manly.

  "Are you going to stand there admiring me? Or are we going to go to my parent’s party?”

  I gasped, shaken out of my thoughts. “I wasn’t admiring you” I sputtered, embarrassed. “I was just making sure you were putting everything in the right place”

  He gave me a disbelieving nod “As you say.” He winked and walked past me to sit on the couch. “Phew!” he exclaimed. “That was hard work” He gave me a dazzling grin. “So, woman. How are you going to reward me?”

  “You sound like a cavemen” I scoffed.

  “If I were a caveman,” He said with a grin. “I’d have carried you over my shoulder into that room and…” He stopped and shook his head. He gave me an apologetic glance. I know I shouldn’t even go there, his eyes were saying, even in a joke.

  He shouldn’t have, but still the image was already firmly planted in my head, he would carry me over his shoulder to my room and throw me on the bed and…. The images filled my head and I fled into the kitchen, to hide my embarrassment. Get a grip Sophie…! I muttered to myself.

  I grabbed a can of juice from the fridge and stomped back to the sitting room. “Here’s your reward.” I said huffily before throwing the can at him. He caught it neatly, annoying me even more.

  “I’ll watch TV, while you get ready.” He said.

  I shrugged, and went grumpily to my room, slamming the door behind me.

  As I got ready, I could hear the sounds of the TV through my bedroom door. He was obviously enjoying himself, neither my mood, nor my annoyance had gotten to him, I sighed. What is wrong with you? I asked myself. Why can’t you take a simple joke? Why would just a single statement from Michael have the power to make me so confused, annoyed and desirous?

  I picked a simple pale blue gown, not too short, just long enough to skim my knees, and form fitting, but not too tight. I coupled it with a pair of nude sandals and a matching clutch. I did my hair up in a loose chignon with tendrils falling around my face and neck. I applied very light makeup and added just earrings and a watch as my jewellery.

  When I was done I inspected the results in my mirror and smiled. It was understated, but sexy. Sexy enough to punish Michael for the suggestive comment he had made earlier, but not too sexy for meeting the family.

  His eyes widened when I walked into the living room. I smiled inwardly and said nothing. I felt him watching me as I switched off the lights in the kitchen and the living room. When I was done I walked to him and took the remote from his hands and switched off the TV.

  “Are you just going to sit there admiring me?” I asked mischievously. “Or are we going to go to your parent’s party?”

  I didn’t wait to see the expression on his face. I savoured my victory as I walked out of the flat, pausing at the door to wait for him so I could lock the flat. Two can play that game Mr Ade-Cole, I thought smugly as we walked down the stairs.

  Michael’s parents’ house was in one of those quiet streets nestled deep within Ikoyi. It was an old house, early 1980’s I think, built in that boxy style of those days. It was beautiful though, especially at that time of the day when it was brightened by the garden lights as well as the lights blazing from all the windows.

  As we drove into the compound, I noticed that there were many cars parked in front of the house at the end of the short driveway.

  “I thought you said it was a small soiree” I whispered as I got out of the car.

  He shrugged. “It is a small soiree.” He said. “There is no live band, no high table, no emcee, it’s just a couple of friends of my parents"

  “So what’s the celebration?” I asked. Realizing I didn’t even know why there was a party in the first place. What if it was someone’s birthday, I hadn’t even thought of bringing a gift.

  “It’s not a party” Michael stressed the words. “Per se. My mum’s best friend moved back to Nigeria after almost thirty years in the states. It’s just a small, informal dinner to welcome her”

  “Okayyyy” I said, slightly relieved. Funny enough I was nervous, I was as nervous as someone going to meet her boyfriend’s parents for the first time. I couldn’t help it, even though I wasn’t his girlfriend and had actually met his mother before. As we walked towards the front door, he caught hold of my hand and held unto it. For a moment I allowed myself to think how like a couple we must look, going into his parent’s house together, holding hands. But I shrugged it out of my mind, no use thinking such thoughts.

  We climbed up two steps to the front porch, which was covered in deep terracotta tiles and edged with pretty flowering shrubs, the front door was closed, but not locked and opened into a spacious reception room, elegantly furnished and well lit, from which a pair of double doors opened into a parlour. There was no one in the reception but through the doors which were slightly ajar, I could hear the chink of glasses and the hum of conversation.

  “Michael!” It was Cecilia, his sister. Still as heavily pregnant as the last time I’d seen her. She walked into the reception with smart easy steps to hug her brother. “And Sophie!” she grinned as she noticed me, and gave her brother a teasing smile. “Sweetie, how are you?”

  “I’m fine” I replied, Returning her warm smile. I looked up towards the doors at the sound of another voice.

  “Michael, I thought you said you were coming right back?” It was Mrs Gladys Ade-Cole, their mother, admonishing Michael before turning to me with a welcoming smile. She was a tall, slim woman. I knew she was about sixty but she looked about forty or less. She was well kept and elegant, with a natural grace she had passed on to her children.

  ‘Sophie!” She moved towards me and enveloped me in arms that were slim, yet as motherly as anyone could hope for. “It has been a long time” she continued. She released me and looked at me. “Too long, and you look more beautiful than I remember”

  “Thank you ma” I said shyly.

  “Nothing to thank me for.” She smiled warmly. I couldn’t help thinking of the good witch in the Wizard of Oz, that was how cool and kindly she was, and lovely. “You’re the one who’s beautiful” she continued with a shrug and a small laugh at her own joke. She turned to her son. “Michael, what do you think?”

  His eyes had been on my face the whole time, but now they widened as he turned to his mother, giving her a look of disbelief, then he turned back towards me. “You look exceptional, Sophie” he said with a smile.

  Even though he had given the compliment under duress from his mother, I practically melted at his words.

  I don’t think m
y love struck face escaped his mother’s notice. She turned her smile back in my direction. “We were just about to eat” she looked archly at her son. “I had almost given up on you coming back.”

  Dinner was great, the food was fabulous. There were about sixteen of us, guests and family. The conversation flowed nonstop as we ate. Mrs Ade-Cole had seated me beside her and opposite Michael on the table. She kept up a constant conversation with me whenever she wasn’t busy carrying out her hostess duties. She asked me so many questions, about my family, my work, the magazine. She had this intimate way of talking, like I was the only person in the room. She made me so comfortable, I felt I could tell her anything.

  “Remind me to show you Michael’s baby pictures before you leave.” she whispered to me as the final plates were cleared.

  “What have you and my mother been whispering about?” We were all returning to the parlour and he had come to walk beside me.

  “Oh nothing” I said, smiling. Seeing the dissatisfied pout on his lips, I decided to tease him a little. “Just how you were so afraid of the dark you used to cry if someone switched off your light.”

  “What!” He exclaimed. “That’s not true”

  “She said you’d say that”

  He laughed. “My mum loves to embarrass me.”

  He steered me towards one of the windows facing the garden, away from the general conversation in the room. Mrs Adegbite, in whose honour the dinner had been given was regaling everyone with a funny story from her stay in the US, everyone was listening and laughing.

  “My parents like you.” Michael said.

  I smiled. “I like them too.”

  When I had been introduced to Michael’s father, Chief Festus Ade-Cole, he had taken my hand and said that I was proof that his son inherited his good taste. Everybody had burst out laughing but at that moment my thoughts had gone to Folake. Why wasn’t she here?

  “Where is Folake?” I asked Michael now, finally giving in to my curiosity.