AMID SECRETS - CHAPTER 14
*Nwanyieze’s POV*
I’m pleased about my early submission of assignments the following Monday morning. In the lecture hall with its high ceilings and peeling yellow walls, half the class is dozing off because it’s seven thirty in the morning and everyone h@??s early morning lectures. If not for this assignment, half the class would still be sprawled or curled up in bed, snoring deeply.
I always make it a point to attend early morning lectures because the lecturers tend to set questions based on the topics that half the class will miss. It’s like their revenge for absenteeism.
“Queen,” said the lecturer, Mr. Adeyemo. He is a tall, lanky man with his face in a perpetual frown. I haven’t seen him smile or laugh since the first time I walked into his class at the start of this semester.
“Sir?” I replied in a soft voice.
“See me in my office after this class.”
“Yes, Sir.”
When he left the class, I noticed that most of my course mates are looking at me. Because I don’t have much friends, I act oblivious to their glances and side comments.
“He don catch this one,” one of the girls snickers to her friend. (He has caught this one.)
“He will tear her up.”
“Chai, this man dey too chop girls.” (This man gets a lot of girls.)
Ignoring the comments, I walked out of the class and moved towards Mr. Adeyemo’s office. It was located at the end of the Arts building, on the first floor. After knocking, I let myself in.
He was seated behind his desk, chin in hand as his eyes fixed on me.
“Good morning, sir,” I greeted, even though I greeted him along with the rest of the class when he walked in to lecture us earlier this morning.
“Have a seat.”
I obeyed.
“I’ve been watching you, Queen,” he told me in his scratchy voice.
I don’t reply, but look at my fingers in my lap. I have heard a lot about this man, how he gets female students to sleep with him with thr_@ts that he will fail them and have them coming back an extra year or more for his course.
“You’re always so quiet in my class.”
A small smile from me. My heart hammers in my chest, my palms start to sweat and I pray that all he’s called me to his office for is to shower me with praises on my diligence and commitment to his course.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
I shake my head no.
“Why?”
“Nothing, sir.”
Because you don’t need one, a small voice in my head says.
“Saving your virginity for marriage?” he asked in a mocking voice.
Silence.
“Well, Queen, I like you, and to avoid beating round the bush, you failed my test.”
It feels like someone just hit me in my gut. I remember the sleepless nights I had spent preparing for his test, and how easy it had seemed to me and how pleased I had been after the paper. In fact, I had given myself a treat at Coldstone Creamery, GRA Ikeja with a huge cup of strawberry, vanilla and cheesecake icecream topped with crushed waffles and Smarties!
“How is that possible, sir?” I almost yell.
Mr. Adeyemo chuckles, not bothered by my outburst.
“Sir, I want to see my script,” I demanded. Anger unfurls inside the pit of my stomach like a snake and bares it’s fangs.
“So you mean I don’t know what I marked, eh?” he questioned in a very angry voice.
Yes, you randy old man.
“I didn’t say that, sir. Maybe you made some mistakes. I’m sure if the Exams and Records could go through-”
“I am part of the Exams and Records.,” he says almost triumphantly.
I was stunned into silence.
“You’re the silent but wild type, aren’t you? To cut it short, because I like you, I’ll help you.”
Now, I sleep with whom ever I want to sleep with for money, but I do not like being forced or pushed to a corner. If I didn’t like a prospective customer, I waved him off because I knew better ones would come. And because I don’t like him, I don’t imagine myself in bed with this evil man.
“I’ll pass you if you give me one night with you.”
Can you expect something, dread it, and yet still be shocked when it happens?
______
*Maduka’s POV*
*The next day*
Isn’t it funny that I don’t have Nwanyieze’s phone number, despite our funny, circumstantial meetings? It never crossed my mind for one moment to ask her for it because all I could think of was that if I wanted to see her, I would drive over to her place and come up with one silly excuse or another as to why she would spend a few hours with me.
It seems so natural to me, wanting to see her regularly.
Sipping my early morning coffee, I chuckle to myself at the thought of her expression if she ever finds out how I feel about her. I imagined her slender, dark brows drawing together and that generous mouth turning down at the corners.
Would she call me a stalker?
I doubt it. I am hardly the type to stalk a woman, let alone be possessive. I like women who go out into the world and do their own thing- or slay, in the more modern language- and then come home to their men, faithful as ever, queens to their kings.
She does seem like that type.
This Tuesday morning, I’m not in a hurry to get to work. Last night, I had overworked myself at the gym and after a hot shower, slept off like a sloth. My body still feels pleasantly sore, my muscles feel like mercury underneath my skin. Taking my time, I don a charcoal-grey, three-piece suit, brush my hair, and fix my tie.
Today, I have a meeting with the CEO of a budding snacks factory, who is willing for me to supply him with raw materials, especially cassava flour, for production. I grin at myself in the mirror. The man who grins back isn’t the small, orphaned boy with ringworm all over his scalp and sores all over his skin again. There are no tears in his eyes, no hopelessness. This man has a goal, and he’s not far from achieving it.
You’re getting there, Maduka. Steadily, you’re building up an empire.
The drive to my office at Ikorodu is a long one, thanks to the never-disappointing, perpetual traffic jam at Maryland junction. While patiently waiting and crawling along, I spot a CD and DVD seller amongst other sellers of different products crossing the road in front of my car. My eyes settle on one of his CDs, and the man, noticing my interest, quickly runs over to my side of the car.
“Oga saa, gu’mornin’,” he greets, smiling to reveal gaps in his dentition. “Which wan you want?” (Good morning, sir. Which one do you want?)
“The Michael Jackson collection,” I replied after returning his greetings. The CD reminds me that Nwanyieze once told me she enjoyed Michael Jackson. I myself am a fan of the late King of Pop, but I buy the CD just because of her, in the hopes that she will sing along with me or to me when I play it in her presence.
My purchase complete, the man wishes me a nice day, thanks me for the jara- tip- and crosses the road. Yours truly continues the drive-stroke-crawl to his office, thinking of ways to con Nwanyieze, my baby girl (I can’t call her that in her presence yet) into letting me take her out in the nearest future.
And by nearest future, I mean later this evening, if I’m lucky.
***
My meeting goes well, a deal is signed, and I spend the rest of the day going through other prospective deals, inspecting my farms, and looking forward to meeting Nwanyieze later in the day.
By five-thirty, I leave my office, allowing my employees to continue their celebration of our new deal.
Driving towards Shomolu, I’m already planning on what to tell her. I park my car outside the gate leading into her compound and let myself out. In two minutes I’m at her door, knocking. It opens and a big, fair woman stands before me.
“Good evening, ma,” I greeted her, inclining my head in respect.
“Good evening. Can I help you?”
She’s a pretty woman, with an air of authority but I sense no intimidation coming from her.
“I’m looking for Nwanyieze. Is she available?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Maduka.”
A small smile plays on her lips and she shifts aside to let me in. “Come in, have a seat. Nwanyieze just came back from school an hour ago, I’m sure she’s showering.”
I seat myself on of the couches and decline her offer of drink, opting for water. On the floor, seated admist dolls and colourful building blocks, is a toddler in pink overalls, fair as white coffee with big, brown eyes and dark hair curling upwards in every direction. She fixes her attention on me curiously.
“Let me get you the water and inform Nwanyieze of your presence,” the woman says before leaving the sitting room.
Alone with the cherubic little girl, I wave at her and she gets up, walks towards me, and hands me a building block. Before I know it, I’m on the floor with her, building a little castle and fixing her dolls on the intricate minarets I have erected while she hands me the materials and watches me with fascination.
“Maduka, you can’t be serious.”
I look up and there she is, my baby girl, dressed in a loose black T-shirt, jeans and rubber slippers. Her thick mane is pulled up in its usual puff. Her expression, however, is not very warm.
“Hello,” I greeted, rising to my feet. The little girl rises, too, runs over to Nwanyieze, and drags her over to where I’m standing, to show her the castle I had built. She has no idea how helpful she has been in bringing Nwanyieze closer to me. She smells of soap and something earthy, probably smokey, the kind you percieve from natural herbs and traditional ingredients in black soap.
“You smell nice,” is what my stupid mouth released.
She seems a bit surprised, but replies, “Is that what you came here for? To sniff me?”
Baby, you have no idea how much I want to bury my nose in the crook of your neck and just breathe.
The more time I spent with her, the greater the urge to just hold her.
Act normal, Maduka. Calm down.
“I came her to take you out for dinner.”
Her brows $h00t up. “You’re joking right?”
“I don’t think so.”
She bends to scoop up the child, who wraps her little arms around Nwanyieze’s neck. “Adanna, go to Mummy, okay?”
Adanna nods obediently and when Nwanyieze places her on the floor, she trots away in search of her mother. Alone with her (and my water suspiciously nowhere in sight, by the way), I take a step closer, covering the space between us. She doesn’t move backwards, but tilts her head upwards to meet my gaze.
“Going out tonight isn’t on my to-do list.”
“There’s always space for change.”
“APC man,” she jokes, making me laugh.
“Come, let me help you unwind. I have plans already and I don’t need you in any fancy dress. Just come as you are.”
“Are you asking me out on a date, Maduka?” she asked, looking amused.
“Depends on how you see it.”
I’m drowning in her scent, I need to touch her- hand or face or hair- but that will most probably earn me a slap or two with that fiery temper of hers. And if she tells me no, I doubt I’ll recover from the rejection. I also doubt I’ll ever stop coming by until she finally agrees.
She sighs, raises a hand to scratch her forehead. “Okay. What do you have in mind?”
Ah, thank God.
_____
*Nwanyieze’s POV*
I’m glad he dropped by.
Since Mr. Adeyemo’s request- or demand- I have been restless, easily agitated, and distracted. He had even been bold enough to state that I had till Thursday to give him a reply or fail his course, and that if I agree, there would be no use of condoms.
Just imagine!
I have never had segz without a condom, and now it’s going to be one stupid man who is probably a swimming pool brimming with numerous STDs he must have caught from scores of girls.
God forbid!
I’m figuratively between the devil and the deep blue sea right now, and I haven’t told Mama Uju, but she’s noticed my recent behaviour and asked if I’m alright. My answer was positive.
I’ve given my all into my education, and the irony is that the same thing I’ve used to fund myself may very well be the same thing that will bring me down.
Maduka calls my name and I snap out of it, looking up from my purse to where he sits on the couch across the sitting room from me, patiently waiting for me to get myself ready for our outing. I said yes like ten minutes ago, went inside to wear a pair of sandals, and came out to arrange my purse. I didn’t know that my thoughts had come upon me again, causing me to just sit there staring at the brown purse like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
“Before nko?” (Why not?)
Mama Uju tells us goodbye at the front door, saving a knowing smile for me, the ‘he’s-really-handsome-you-know’ smile that I’ll probably have to tell her to never give me again because this is just a casual outing, and Maduka and I only enjoy each other’s company and while I may feel any form of attraction towards him, nothing will ever happen between us because people like him don’t usually end up with people like me.