AMID SECRETS - CHAPTER 15
*Maduka’s POV*
Something is bothering her.
All through the drive to Jevinik Restaurant, Ikeja, it’s obvious that she’s forcing herself to converse with me, to ask me how my day went. When I return the question, she simply shrugs and says, “You know how it is in Nigerian universities,” before facing straight ahead, leaving me with her profile to look at.
She is so distracted that she trips on the front stairs leading up to the entrance of the restaurant.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked for the second time.
“Of course. It’s normal to trip,” she snaps at me, unknowingly confirming the obvious.
Over a delicious meal of white agidi, egg sauce and fried yam chips, I watch her pick at her food.
“Come on. Tell me what’s wrong,” I pleaded finally.
“It’s none of your business, Maduka,” she sighs before putting a piece of yam into her mouth.
The comment literally burns me and I press my lips together, look down at my food, and force myself to finish it in silence. I forcefully gulp down my water, dab at my mouth with a napkin, and lean back to watch her.
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*Nwanyieze’sPOV*
I’m being such a brat and I know it. I’ve hurt his feelings when all he’s been trying to do is help me relax, enjoy a good meal, and have a good time.
But the thought of Mr. Adeyemo’s hands on my body (and the fact that he might probably infect me with something) keep haunting my thoughts. If I say no, I won’t graduate at the right time. If I say yes, it’s to unprotected segz and a parting gift of probably some rare case of STD, and not to mention breaking the vow I had made to never sleep with any of my lecturers.
I can feel Maduka watching me intently while I tried to eat. I peer up at him and there he is, clenching and unclenching his jaw, eyes unabashedly fixed on me. Quickly I start stuffing my face with food to look busy. The food is delicious, but I barely enjoy it. I know that if I don’t eat, I’ll wake up hungry at midnight and roam the flat in search of something to eat. Plus, I can’t just leave this food that Maduka has paid for to waste.
My plate picked clean, I wipe my mouth with a napkin and say, “Thank you for the meal.”
“You’re welcome.”
We both sit in silence, with him never taking his eyes off me. Guilt sits on my shoulders and I feel so ashamed of myself for ruining what was supposed to be an interesting dinner. But I don’t say anything, I only look around at the softly lit restaurant, with its lovely golden chairs and tables, elegantly set. All around us are the muted sounds of cutlery clicking against expensive ceramic plates, the laughter and chatter of other customers enjoying themselves.
“Do you want to go home?”
I nod and he does the same, calls the waiter, pays the bill, gets up before me, and offers me a hand to help me to my feet.
Ever the gentleman, I muse inwardly. At the exit, he places a hand on the small of my back.
“I’m not going to trip again, you know,” I tell him.
“Just making sure,” comes the tight reply.
Inside the car, I blurt, “I’m sorry I ruined it all.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t mean to. It’s just that…”
He twists his body to face me completely. “Care to share?”
I don’t know how sharing this with him will help solve the issue, but he looks so concerned and his smile is encouraging. I take a deep breath and open my mouth.
“I was told I failed a course at school.”
“A carry-over?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about that. But I’m pretty sure you’ll pass it next time.”
“I’m pretty sure I passed it the first time.”
“What do you mean?”
“The lecturer wants me… to sleep with him or he’ll fail me.”
I watch his expression go from sympathetic to surprised, to enraged, and then to something close to being tagged as murderous.
“What’s his name?” A calm question that sends a chill up my spine.
“You- you won’t find him and hurt him, will you?”
He smiles, but it’s not a humorous one. “Hopefully. If he so much as touches a single hair on your head, hurting him will be the least of his worries.”
“I have till Thursday to give him a reply,” I whisper. “Failing means I’ll be coming back an extra year or more. And Mama Uju and I have tried so hard to put me through school…” My throat feels constricted.
“Listen to me,” he says, drawing closer and taking my hand in his. “That man is not even going to see above your knees, so long as I’m concerned.”
“Are you sure you won’t ki|| him?” I asked suspiciously.
“Have you even told me his name?” He runs a hand over his face and sighs. “The way these bastards corrupt the system baffles me. Why are these lecturers never reported? Why do they enjoy taking advantage of young girls like this?”
‘If only you knew what this young girl in front of you does, and how corrupt she is’, the little voice in my head says.
He starts the car, drives out of Jevinik’s compound, and instead of taking the way towards Maryland, continues down Isaac John street.
“Where are you taking me to without my permission this time?”
“Let’s get some ice cream.”
I can tell he’s trying his best to look cheerful after what I’ve told him. I can see him working his jaw muscles, holding tight to the steering wheel, trying his best to drive at a normal pace.
All I need to do to ensure Mr. Adeyemo’s possible doom is tell Maduka his name and tomorrow, I’m pretty sure the man won’t show up at school. I don’t know how it will happen, but I know that Maduka will find him.
I just want a peaceful way of avoiding this. That’s all.
In five minutes we walk into Coldstone Creamery and in another five minutes, we are seated with him holding a bottle of water and me holding a medium sized cup of vanilla and cake batter flavoured ice cream topped with crushed waffles.
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*Maduka’sPOV*
Who is this man that wants to take advantage of her?
Anger swells up in my chest with each breath I take. However, all I can do is reserve a smile for her and lie that I’m not thinking of ways to deal with him, if she lets slip his name.
She looks so vulnerable sitting there, eyes darting around the place, staring for a few moments at the red walls, then the people around us, then the television showing SoundCity. I can tell that the situation is eating her up and taking away her confidence.
The educational system is crumbling so rapidly, with the academic strikes, moral decadence of both students and school authorities, many more problems that will take years, if not decades, to fix. I was once in her shoes, with a bisegzual lecturer who ordered that I strip for him in order to get marks I so truly deserved. I remember how disgusted I had been, and how I had taken a fake gun to his office, pointed it at his crotch, and thr_@tened to $h00t off his genitals if he didn’t give me my marks. I’d told him that I didn’t mind going to jail for $h00ting him because I would tell the police all he had asked me to do.
It had worked quite well. The following week, the results had been posted and yours truly had come out with an A.
Somto, my elder sister, had the same encounter in her own time at university…
“Baby girl?”
“Mmhm?” she responded, turning her eyes on me and raising her brows.
“Here’s what you’ll try. If it doesn’t work then there’s a plan B.”
“I’m all ears,” she said ,leaning forward.
“On one condition, though.”
“What?” Annoyance shows in her dark eyes. She pouts before venting on her plastic spoon by biting it. It takes me a moment longer to remove my eyes from her mouth. So many of her little actions grab so much of my attention.
“You’ll answer to ‘Baby girl’ each time I call you.”
“Are you really serious right now? Do I look like your girl friend, am I even your baby girl in the first place?”
You have no idea.
I refuse to point out that she had unconsciously answered me a few moments ago.
“Deal or no deal?”
She hissed. “Wh@??ver use its going to be to you, fine. Call me baby girl all you want.”
“Splendid.”
When we’re done talking, it’s past 10 o’clock. On our way driving back home, she lightens up and sings Michael Jackson songs with me.
What a wonderful end to a wonderful day.
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*Nwanyieze’s POV*
Getting home, I stand outside my gate, wave Maduka good night, and fish out my phone from my pocket. I dial Mr. Adeyemo’s number.
“Hello?”
“Good evening, Sir. It’s Queen.”
“How are you, my dear?”
“I’m fine, sir thank you.” Like you even care, wicked man.
“Have you thought about it?”
“Yes, sir. I have agreed to your terms.”
He chuckled “Good, smart girl. I will forward to you the time and venue.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, sir.” For good measure, I whisper, “Thank you, sir.”