Dinma blew an impatient breath and adjusted the sleeping child, Zara, in her arm, then she glanced at her wrist watch for the umpteenth time. She was running late for her date, and with the way things were, she had barely enough time to go home and shower, and all this was because of an infuriating and an irresponsible parent. The parent of the last child left in her nursery.
She was the only teacher left in the school, and she could see the pitiable glances each teacher casted her way as they left, that alone made her fume.
Unfortunately, this was not the first time Mr. Johnson had showed up late to pick his daughter, neither was it the fifth, and regardless, he always had some flimsy excuse to defend his behavior. The first few times, Dinma had presumed it was the Lagos traffic or even work, but when he had the effrontery to come pick his daughter with a barely dressed lady who couldn't keep her hands to herself, and had come the next day with a different kind of lady, Dinma seethed.
When she first started, she had always wondered about the child's mother. And in her curiosity, she had met the other teachers in the school, and they had told her about Mrs. Johnson's mysterious death. According to them, Mrs. Johnson had died after a dinner with his family when Zara was barely a year old.
The sleeping child yawned and adjusted sleepily in her arms making her fully aware of the child and the situation. Then she checked her wrist watch again and groaned, if Mr. Johnson decides to show up, she was going to give him a piece of her mind.
She should feel pity for the man who had no wife, or mother for his child, but she didn't. In truth, she was annoyed with him, disappointed even. The fact that he whored around Lagos, knowing he was a dad, was infuriating.
And just then, his very familiar, and luxurious sedan drove into the compound. And after he had killed his engine, a young man probably in his late twenties or early thirties walked out gracefully from the car. He had his shirt buttoned all the way to his collar, and his sleeves were rolled to his forearm. He wore a gray pair of trousers, and as he walked towards her, she noticed, he oozed an air of confidence. His face, she had always admired; from his clean haircut, to his neatly shaved beard, but that day was different, his face was that of the parent who had left a three-year-old in school.
And with a new found anger, she marched towards him with his sleeping daughter, on her stilettos.
"I'm so sorry..." he began his usual apologies, but she cut him off with a smack on his face.
She too was shocked at herself as she felt her palm sting, but she didn't care, she was mad annoyed at that point.
"Okay, I deserved that." He uttered as he flexed his jaw. "God you hit like a man!"
"What kind of a father are you, Mr. Johnson?"
"Look, young lady." He replied in a breath "I'm sorry for the inconveniences, but I won't stand here and listen to you question the way I parent my child."
Dinma was taken aback "Parent your child? do you call what you do parenting?"
Mr. Johnson let out a sigh "I don't have your time." Then he reached to carry his daughter, being careful so as not to wake her, he placed her gently in the toddler seat, fastened in the passenger seat.
"You don't have my time?" she asked, flushed in fury. "Do you realise that you just wasted mine?"
"I've apologized, what else do you want from me? Kiss your ass?"
She fumed "You imbecile!"
He let out a chuckle instead, and much to her annoyance, it was a rich melody "It's a pleasure. Let me give you a ride home. I like to help the less privileged." He had the audacity to smile, revealing his perfect white dentition.
"If you can't take care of your child, then hire a nanny."
She saw a muscle tick in his jaw, he said nothing else, either because he was to furious to talk, or generally had nothing to say, but he gave her an unreadable expression and walked around her to his car.
With her chin high, she walked to her previous spot to grab her bag. She grabbed it from the half wall of the corridors, and as she walked past him again, this time he was in his car, with his window wound up, she sucked her teeth to make a hissing sound.
Nobody was going to ruin her day, she thought, not even the arrogant bastard. She was going to celebrate her birthday, in a fancy restaurant, with her boyfriend, and probably get proposed to. But she didn't look it; her very expensive dress still laid in its wrap on her bed, and her shoes that she had spent so much on, were still in their boxes, and she wasn't going to wear them, because someone had decided to show up late for his daughter.
She let out a frustrated sigh.
Her phone pinged, distracting her thoughts, and she rummaged for the device in her bag. When she got a hold of it, there, she had a message from Mike, her boyfriend. It read, stuck in traffic, going to be a little late.
Dinma let out a squeal, luck was definitely on her side.
Dinma walked into the fancy restaurant Mike had sent an address for, internally grateful she didn't look out of place in her shimmering purple sequins gown that hugged her in the right places and hung above her knee, and with her white peep toe heels she had worn to pair with it, she thought she looked classy. She scanned the room and let out a sigh of relief when she saw Mike seated, his back was towards her. She took in a breath, and walked briskly to his table.
"Babe, good evening." She greeted as she walked to sit in front of him, then she leaned down to kiss his lips, but was stunned when her lips fell on his cheeks instead. She said nothing else, and went ahead to make herself comfortable on the seat opposite from him, taking notice of the very expensive champagne bottle on the table.
She bit back a smile. Of course he was going to propose.
But when she noticed he had only made a grunt of acknowledgement and had not bother looking up from his phone, she cleared her throat loudly. And at the sound, he looked up from his phone, and placed the phone on the table in hesitation.
"You look beautiful." Mike stated as he took a graceful sip from his champagne flute.
She blushed "Thank you. You don't look bad yourself." He didn't at all. Infact, he looked very dapper in his jean trousers and gray shirt.
"I know." He added with a wink.
She blushed again, and cleared her throat to stop the warmth that spread through her spine, then she reached to pour herself a glass. And from her periphery, she saw a waiter walk towards them with a menu, and her stomach rumbled at the thought of food. But just as she was about reaching for the menu, Mike spoke.
"That won't be necessary."
Her head whipped to face him "Why not?"
"I'm not going to waste your time." And with a flick of his wrist he dimissed the waiter, then he cleared his throat and leaned in to hold her hands on the table.
This action made her heart race in excitement. This was the moment she had always dreamt of; Mike proposing to her with the most incredible cliche lines. Honestly, she wasn't at all surprised that he was going to propose, she could read the telltale signs; from his sneaky calls, to his constant need to be on his phone and be discreet about it, this were all signs that he was hiding something from her; an engagement ring.
"Dee." He began, cutting off her thoughts "You are a very special person, a nice, kind, and warm soul."
Her smile grew.
He continued "Heck! You are a wife material." Then he paused "But not mine."
Her smile froze, and in a bid to help her brain process what she had heard, she spluttered "What!"
Mike let go of her hand and reached for his champagne flute "Look Dee, we are not compatible, you know this."
"I know nothing." She hated that her voice broke at the end. She closed her eyes for a moment, to stop the threatening tears from spilling, then she opened them to stare at the man before her "What are you saying then?"
He took a sip from his flute, and leaned back into his seat "Let's break up." Then placing the flute on the table, he straightened up "look Dee, it's not me, it's you. I mean, it's not you, it's me. You know what I mean."
"I can't believe you." She spat. This time she let the tears roll freely "Did our three years together mean nothing to you? Did you have to break up with me on my birthday?"
His eyes went round like saucers "I didn't know it was your birthday today. I swear, if I did, I would not have broken up with you today."
Anger brewed inside of her, and with her new found feeling, she flung her champagne flute at him, grateful that it shattered on his head.
"You are crazy." Mike cried as he reached for napkins to stop his bleeding. And at that point, a crowd had formed, some had their phones out to record the scene, and others tried to restrain her.
"Leave me, let me deal with this idiot." Dinma struggled with the men who held her.
And in the rucus, the security had to throw her out after much pleas with Mike not to sue the restaurant. But before she left, she made sure to slap his face hard that she felt the sting in her palm.
Hi shugas...
This is the beginning of BLINDFOLDS.
Tell me what you think in the comment section.
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