ADAMAWA STATE, NIGERIA.
"Mom." A seventeen year old Zayd called out his mother's attention with a frown, his lips set into a thin line. He threw his backpack on the kitchen counter and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, his eyes narrowed into slits.
His mother, Fatima Musa Babagana gave a confused smile at her only son as if not believing the frown on his face is there. He is never one to frown no matter the situation, he is just stoic and austere but never a frown, just insouciant. Now she is so curious about what has happened in school that got him furious and wrathful, it's not something trivial, pettifog or frivolous, it's crucial.
She placed the spatula down on the kitchen counter and lean her back against it, turning her back to the gas cooker with curious eyes. With that serious look on her face, apron around her voluptuous figure, one might think she is a great chef but she is only making scrambled eggs to eat with bread after coming back home from a hectic day at the office. She is no chef and she can never be one, there is no hope for her not that she's tried hard, she is not into it and her husband accepted that wholeheartedly.
Scrutinizing her son again, she gave him a full blown encouraging smile. She's always been close to her children, she never allowed anything to come in between them that they would keep a secret. She didn't grow up with that kind of love due to so many evils in the world but she's vowed not to do that to her children. She is their best friend just like they are hers, they live within the circle of family without adding any other person. A life she's dreamt about but never thought would come to happen.
All thanks to her police officer husband who's clearly in the office now wiping away diaphoresis from his face even with the full blown air conditioner. That's what you get for trying to scratch off corruption and bribery in Nigeria, it comes with sleepless nights and days of sacrifice. But she is damn proud of him, he is Nigeria's hero and her family's too. She supports him in every step of the way and anyway she can, she's been strong for years and aging didn't falter that fire in her. Maybe even proliferated it a few notches up?
Zayd isn't looking at her, she turned off the gas, hunger forgotten and went to him. He's never been this disturbed and furious, she is more curious than worried though. She grasped his shoulders in her hands, he is the same height as she is or even more. He is just growing everyday and it is already irritating her, it is not cool. Growing means leaving her and that is something she is not ready to do.
Dusting a few lints from his jacket, she gave another large Cheshire like smile that he knew too well and smiled right back at her with sheer prepubescence. "What's wrong? What or who's gotten you so furious?"
The scowl came back again, this one more grotesque than the other frown. "Layla!" He frowned, trying to sheaf what he should say then scowled again in concentration. "That girl is a nuisance! I can't just sit alone in class doing nothing, she gets on my nerves like no other. She's always trying to bully me and had I being someone less stronger, she would've succeeded. God, mom, she is so annoying and hideous. I don't mean it like that but damn, I can't help despising her and she just started coming two days ago. For some reason, she wants to bully only me and no one else."
Fatima bit back a smile, her son looks so agitated at the moment and another thing about this Layla lady will definitely trigger him. But why is she more intrigued than furious at some lady bullying her son like that? And why isn't she too keen into asking why he didn't put her in her place instead of complaining to her and getting all worked up and harangued? Oh, she wants to know all about this Layla girl so she drew him to the living room and lowered him down on the couch.
Frowning to show fake concern so he won't stop telling her thinking she might tease him at the end of it, she set her mouth into a line. "What has she done? I hope she is not bullying you to the extent where you can't keep your cool or I'll go and report her. I can even talk to her myself if you want."
Zayd grumbled beneath his breath and she can guess he is cursing. She is not going to reprimand or chide him, she is the cause and root of it, since he was young. Her husband tried stopping her but end up joining whenever they are having their feat hence the house is filled with cursers. As long as he won't say it out loud for her ears, she won't have any problem with him, he should just know his limits. He's never been this worked up anyway, he hardly curses but today, he is pushed to the wall.
He sighed and answered. "She didn't do anything to earn a few words with you." He gave her a look that says 'I know you won't make it easy for her and I don't trust you with anyone in my school' so she smiled innocently with a shrug. "She tried pulling my hair and even succeeded even though I'm an inch taller than her, she is tall. She has such a long charcoal hair that is always in disarray on her head, she is a crazy and lunatic girl, I swear to God. She doesn't even close her hair and she is a Muslim for god's sake! Mom... she doesn't pray too and curses like a sailor or a wash woman slash roadside hawker around bunch of thugs. I'm not judging her but..."
He bent his head and closed his eyes, tugging at his growing hair —something his teacher just talked to him about before he left school few minutes ago— in wrath. Fatima watched in amazement, a girl doing that to her son who's always been detached to his surroundings except his family. Whenever he is around them, he is so free and jubilant but outside the world, people think he is too arrogant because he's born with a silver spoon poised across his lips and that is untrue.
Scowling again as if remembering something, he rambled some more like he's always done since his young age. And he does that only to his parents and younger sister, no one else. "She even called me names. She said I am long limbed and don't even know what I should do with my arms. God, she hit my head intentionally with a log but fortunately she missed her target. Then she placed a note behind my back saying that they should call me a fool, and the kids in school were doing so too. I was so furious earlier. I wanted to fight for the first time because of a girl."
He face palmed himself. "She is nothing but trouble. I am starting to hate the entire gender except you and Bee seriously."
Fatima tried hard and gulped down her guffaw then place a hand on his shoulder. The paroxysm is just getting more interesting. "You shouldn't hate girls please. I want you to marry some day and produce grandchildren for me. Now about this Layla girl, can you describe her further for me? I want to know who's got my son dancing to her tunes in fury."
She curled her fingers around her cheeks and gaze at him with intent gingerbread colored eyes blazing with intense curiosity. She's just glad that her son is talking about another girl other than their family members, it's entertaining and a bit more refreshing. If this Layla girl happens to be fiery with same spirit as her own, she will definitely encourage and goad her to further split her son's life into two. Maybe then, he will get a glimpse of what boys his mate do. They keep girlfriends and spoil them with gifts then breakup later.
She is totally encouraging the situation. She wants that to happen to her son, he does nothing like they do. A change from him looks too good to be true and she will get as much information as she could about the entire story. She is so eager to talk about this to her husband later in the evening.
Besides, this Layla girl is right about the long limbs. Her son with oval shaped face, almond light brown eyes lighter than her own, strong but straight nose like her own and wide mouth of his father. His entire features put together gives the carbon copy of his father, it irritates her. He is not supposed to look like him, not after all she's endured to bring him into this world. It felt like her life was slowly leaving her body from toes and out of her mouth, she hates the outcome. But loves him nonetheless, a lot actually.
She couldn't give birth to a baby after she gave birth to him. Due to an illness she's suffered many years ago, it affected her fertility and the doctors congratulated her on her luck to give birth to him without problems and complications. But she believed that it was her words against fate because she was the one who didn't want children, she wanted to be alone and not even marry. That's a story for another day and back to the matter. She gave birth to her baby girl through intrauterine insemination, it failed twice but the third one worked out just fine.
Zayd cleared his throat and furrowed his brows in concentration, creating a dent between them that makes him look exactly like his father. "She is tall, taller than every girl in our class. Like I've describe her long sable hair earlier, it reaches her mid-back. Her eyes are a light shade of brown, way lighter than my own almost golden or topaz fringed with long curled soot lashes. She is fair, thin and unfortunately pretty. That's why she thinks she can do everything she wants. The boys in our class are following her around like bunch of sleaze dogs while the girls act like slaves and she is the queen. I couldn't believe it. Even Fati, she acts like a slave but they are quiet close." He murmured the last part in disgust, his head shaking from side to side.
Fati is Fatima Faiz Babagana who happens to be his maternal cousin from his mother's older brother. She is the first person Layla talked to when she walked into the class lousily hollering. Everyone in the class halted and couldn't move, they sat still as the elegant and beautiful tall girl walked in with her head held high, earpiece closing both her ears as she bobbed her head and sang to a Nicki Minaj song while rapping to perfection. Her hair in a ponytail, piercings all over her ears and nose. He detested her almost instantly and looked down at his work, he is more like a nerd after all.
Not exactly a nerd, girls flock around him because of his cuteness like they say and his background. Apparently, his mother is a lot of peoples role model and his father is a popular police officer right before they were born till date. He never enjoyed their company knowing how fake teenagers can be and only have a few friends, mostly from their estate. He wants his life just like that but it seems like Layla is hellbent on ruining that for him. The girl with bare and drained eyes filled with wickedness.
Fatima stared at her son in wonder, her mouth hanging a bit open only for her to slam it shut when he yawed around to look at her, waiting for her to say something. She cleared her throat with an innocent smile. "I... she sounds beautiful but mischievous. How could you not like someone like her? You should've befriended her or something."
He scowled, as if she didn't listen to what he's said. "She is not someone you can befriend, not that I would've done that anyway. She is arrogant, lousy, unladylike, immodest,loquacious and very wicked with her moves." She frowned chidingly and his mouth fell shut from the insults, she's raised him to respect women but he is failing right now because Layla has finally knifed him off his comfort zone. "I told you just minutes ago that she almost knocked your son out cold with a log but you want me to befriend her?" At his mother's shrug and pursed lips, he stared at her in disbelieve, totally nonplussed. "Why does it look like you want her to do what she wants as long as I'm not harmed physically?"
"Yeah because for the first time, you are talking about a girl in your life. It's quiet interesting listening to you rant about something better instead of Chinese army history." She chortled at his slackened expression, not believing she's just said that.
"Mom!" He reprimanded, shaking his head in irritation and amazement. It is written all over his face, he is not happy with his mother at all. He expected sympathy, anger at Layla for doing that to her son but joy? Felicity? No!
She shrugged again. "Zay, live life for a bit and enjoy it while it lasts. You are way too uptight for a seventeen year old. And you never know, maybe she likes you but don't know how to confess, there are some girls like that after all. I won't tell you about me and your dad again, it'll be for the nth time."
Rolling his eyes heavenwards thinking his mother really needs the mental help that she is giving out to people in her therapy hospital and NGO.
"Mom, can you not talk about love again for goodness sake? During your time, it's something you can't live with but this time, we are moving about with our life with or without love. Well, I need love from both dad and you but other than that, I can live perfectly alright. And I'm not uptight, I'm just more reasonable."
"You are hopeless." She flopped her hands up in a give up expression.
He is suddenly overwhelmed with more wrath for Layla, the girl has really done him bad and he will make sure she pays for what she's done. It leaves acerbic sourness in his mouth. There is no way he will let this slip between his fingers just like that, he will get back at her, the astute, cavalier tomboy. He's never felt this overwhelming urge for violence and blood spill like this, it is so strong. No amount of aspartame can liquify this intense wrath. That colleen is a connoisseur when it comes to browbeating and that should come to a cessation.
He clenched his fingers in a fist, closed his eyes for a few seconds to clear his head off her picture with his younger sister's and a past that always makes him smile. A past with his fascinating best friend, he is going back for her and is looking forward to it. That helped a bit but Layla is forcing her way around his cranium. Atrocious cuckoo.
"I'm not hopeless but I loathe her already. God help me, I hope I won't kill her before the year ends. If you get a call from school, dad should ready his handcuffs, I'm the one to be arrested." He stood up, touched his forehead with his forefinger and middle finger to cool down the splitting headache from veiling surfeit wrath throughout the day.
Fatima relaxed back supine on the couch and closed her eyes in amusement. "Go and freshen up, food will be ready by then. Be careful and don't wake your sister, she's been ill all day and is convalescing."
He frowned in concern and meandered to look at his mother. "Why didn't you tell me about it?" Then he cursed knowing his school doesn't permit phone and there is no other way to tell him. "I'll check up on her." And sauntered up the stairs of their log cabin home.
"What a mother!" Fatima jumped from her sit with a start and turn to the source of the familiar, goosebumps-rising voice that just gave her a fright.
Turning around, she viewed her husband in his blue and black Nigerian police uniform, her eyes dilated like it does all the time. She's never tired of him, he never gave her the chance to be bored whether in their day-to-day life activities or in the bedroom, she was not given that aperture. Everything about him still mesmerize her like it had years ago. A love story even her son is not tired of listening to. A love story that is now the talk of the town since decade and seven years ago, but it is still something a lot of people look up to in the society. So many aficionados just for it.
Years ago, Fatima Musa Babagana and Ahmad Hakim Al-Hafiz were in everyone's mouth and till today, they are always used in conversations to make an example. They are in love and they don't wait for anything to show each other how obsessed and possessive they are with one another. Whether in public or not, Fatima and Ahmad share a unique bond the entire world has never seen. Not even werewolves to their mates. They fight, oh, it seems like there are no other couples in the world that fights like they do but in a few minutes that can be resolved whether by seduction or just forgetfulness and used to being the other's gossip consumer.
The forgetful part is always from Fatima while seduction is an art Ahmad has mastered throughout the years they've been together. Years of experiment, there is no weakness of hers that he doesn't know and use it right when it is needed.
Her eyes sparkled at the sight of him and she relaxed again, watching his catlike grace as he moseyed to where she is, his footsteps quiet for a huge man like him. He threw his sable suitcase on one of the couches. It looks like he's been standing there for awhile. He came behind her and nuzzled his beard against her soft neck earning a giggle from Fatima. She caressed his other cheek with her smooth silky palm while cooing like she would a baby. He likes it when she does that, he said he is also a baby to her and she agreed. She pamper him a lot.
"You've heard much then?" She asked about his comment on what a mother, she wants to know whether she is going to retell it later or not.
He nibbled her skin earning a groan before answering. "Oh, yes. Your son is finally getting to the stage. He is experiencing what I did only a few years younger than me. A whole decade and few actually."
Fatima laughed hard, sending his head flying away from her neck as she rolled on the couch. She's been suppressing it for the sake of Zayd's feelings which she's obviously hurt but she can't anymore. She could picture her husband complaining about how she's harangued him years ago not that she's stopped. She still pranks him along with her six year old daughter and there is nothing more fun than that.
"Poor, Zay. I feel like he is going to strangle her next time she tries that shit. But I raise him a gentleman, he will keep it all in and come back to rant again. I don't mind listening to him all day."
Ahmad sat on the sofa, bring her to his laps and massaged her femur. He stared at his wife in wonder. Because even though they've been married for almost nineteen years now, Fatima hasn't changed in his eyes. She is still that girl with so much innocence —something he's corrupted— and mischief with yearn for love —he's replaced that love. She has aged obviously but not much. By never leaving the gym, eating healthy food and junk once in a while, ablution and so on, she is still a beauty that looks not more than thirty. And she is forty. A thing in their gene since her mother still looks very much younger than her age.
He kissed her forehead, not able to stop himself from appreciating her yet again. He is one lucky bastard, he always say in his head. Fatima has changed his view in everything, his own life and the world itself. There are certainly no words to appreciate her, she is just amazing and out of the world.
A beautiful wife, amazing and doting mother to their kids. She's devoted her whole life to her son for eleven years, then all over again for her six year old daughter. He wouldn't have asked for another wife for himself or mother to his children. She is not perfect, way far from it but that's what he's embraced along the way and it endorsed them a lot. All thanks to her father though, he arranged the whole thing albeit unknowingly—
He blinked feeling her nudge against his rib cage which means he is supposed to answer something. "I know you won't mind but I don't want it to result to me arresting my own son one of these days."
Fatima chortled. "Should we tell him that's how it starts?"
He grinned widely, showing his whole recently cleaned daisy teeth. "No. He should have the experience, it is worth it at the end."
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, police officer."
What do you think?
Toh, till further notice...