This chapter was so HARD to edit, that's why it took forever to finish 😭😭😭 the least you can do to motivate me is share your amazing thoughts and options in the comment section... and leave a vote at the end. I'm exhausted and while I go off to get a glass of Pinã Colada, I'll leave you to enjoy the chapter.
Signing out now, love you guys, byeeee ✌🏼😗✌🏼
. . .
Beverly
My morning is ruined. Why would he do this? Why would he make me revisit us? Why did he think it was okay to want answers on the spot? It's fine to want answers but God! Not like that! He just kept saying the right words in the wrong manner— more like he was forcing me to unravel things on the spot and I didn't like that because everything came rushing back and I hated that 'never-going' effect he still had on me.
I don't know which is worse, the fact that I can still smell his fragrance on the wrist which he held or the change in his light brown orbs when I'd eventually stared into them in the bid to challenge him. It lacked that spark... the one I fell in love with. It lacked Umar. Something, I believe, I am to blame.
After he walked out, I couldn't join Shalewa in the meeting because my mental state was fucked, it was like I bruised him when I blurted out those words, and truth be told, I did feel a pang of guilt, because if there's one thing I remember he hates, it's when something strings into his 'dirty past' but abeg! He overreacted to the question. It was rhetoric and bound to roll off my tongue when he stupidly offered that invite.
His tone was genuine, there were no ulterior motives but this is a married Hausa elite who if I'm seen with him (especially at a hotel) will attract the wrong reports.
"275..." I unconsciously murmur.
Hai! God! Me, I'm a fool sef. Why do I have the number retained?
I sigh, emotionally defeated.
I'm screwed up at the moment, I don't know what I feel for him but anger seems to be in the lead.
I'm mad that I still care about him and that a part of me would have followed him if his approach was right, but how on earth did I expect his approach to be right when the grounds on which the conversation stood were wrong?
A mess, that is what he is and so was our relationship. It's dead. It's gone. I'll jejely move on from this encounter and pretend it never happened.
I start to inhale and exhale. Continually saying: "It's all in my head. It didn't happen. He wasn't here." But I know it did happen, this is cheap gaslighting that will not work.
My phone dings and a notification displays on the screen:
Deji
Lunch?
I am disappointed that it is not who I want but glad it is, at least, Deji.
Me
Not really
Deji
Boooo!! You're boring 👎🏾
Me
🙄😂😂
Deji
Come meet me at The Buka... they make the best Abula in Abuja
Let's bond over our Yoruba heritage
Me
Such blackmail, but nahhh
Deji
Whyyy 😭
Me
I'm having a bad day
Deji
Fair enough
Send your addy. I'll send the food to you
The aroma alone could cheer you up 🙃
Me
Thank you 🥺
I send the address and he texts back:
Deji
You'll get it in no time. Let's pray the delivery man doesn't run away with the food
I laugh.
Me
I'll hold you responsible
Deji
Ah, no o 😂😂
Also, are you gonna be at the engagement party tomorrow?
Me
Idia is my best friend, I wouldn't miss it for the world
Deji
Wanna be my date?
Me
Sure
Deji
Okayyyy. Blink twice if you need help
Me
Why?? 💀
Deji
Thought you were gonna say no
Me
I'm not that mean
Deji
Well, you agree you're mean
We finally agree on something 😏😏
Me
Ugh... byeee 💁🏼♀️😂
I exit Instagram and proceed to focus on other things — sketching a new design, replying to the emails of brands who want to collaborate, and influencers I am looking to work with — before I get carried away and text him all day.
I always get off early on Saturday, so, I need to finish the work on my table by 3:00 pm, then I'll be out of here, and maybe stop by Tare's salon, somewhere around Transcorp, to get a manicure and a new set of nails to ease my mental stress.
275... my brain retracts. For fuck's sake! I bind and cast you Zayyad! Unoccupy my head! God forbid! God forbid!! God forbid!!
About twenty minutes later, as I sketch a new design on my iPad, there's a knock on my door. "Come in."
It's Shalewa, she is all smiles, holding a nylon bag with the inscription 'The Buka' written on it, close to her chest. "Look who got a delivery!" She sings.
I return the smile. "Thank you for bringing it,"
She gently places the nylon on my desk. "This smells so good, ahan!" She takes a long sniff before satisfyingly exhaling.
I open the bag and begin to remove the sealed plastic packs from it. Wow. Just wow. One pack contains four wraps of amala and the other, ewedu with a lot of assorted protein floating in it.
"This is a lot. Shalewa, go and wash your hands, I'll have to share"
"Ope o!" She jubilates.
I laugh. "Long throat,"
"Abeg jare." She heads to the washroom in my office whilst I pick up my phone to text Deji.
Me
This is a lot! But thank you 💕
He replies almost immediately.
Deji
Hope you'll feel better now x
If you don't, you know what to do 😏
Me
No tf I don't
Deji
FaceTime me so you can see my handsome face 🙃
Or I'll come over so I can kiss your unhappiness away
Me
You're so corny, Deji. Byeee 😂😂
Let me eat
Shalewa returns and I go to the bathroom to wash my hands, too. I come out shortly to find her locking the entrance door. "I don't want an extra hand here. I never chop since morning, just interview upon interview," [I haven't eaten all morning]
I lightly laugh. "Sorry. I wasn't in a good mental space today, I'd have joined you,"
"No, you really need to apologize," She playfully tackles, pulling out the chair opposite me and sitting. "Not even for the interview,"
I raise a questioning brow. "For what?"
"That fine man that you hijacked from me today,"
I roll my eyes. "I would have even left him for you sef,"
My relationship with Shalewa is a congenial one that begins and ends in the premises of the store and I find that comforting, we rant and banter about 'whatever' in the office but once the doors of the store close, we almost have zero business outside it, she is my 'work bestie' and we love it that way.
"Eh, why didn't you leave him for me?– even sef, the man was doing like Papi water,"
I burst out laughing, almost choking on my amala. "Papi what?"
She joins in my laughter. "He was just asking 'where's your boss?' 'where's your boss' 'is she here?'... I was now thinking 'Oga, are you here for cloth abi woman?'... he wasn't even looking at the eyes I was batting for him, and when you finally came, the man just wanted to eat you... do you people have unfinished business bayi?"
When she says that, I stop laughing.
. . .
Zayyad
Sitting in the car at the underground parking lot of the hotel, I carefully inhale the white substance lined on the dashboard through a well-rolled naira note; the feeling of it scaling through my nostrils gives my nerves the calm it was craving.
These past years, half of the emotional decisions I've given into or 'made' concerning my happiness...I've done intoxicated, including the wedding. I'd been consumed with anger and anxiety on that day, I didn't know how to function, and Hassan, my old friend, had handed me pills to help. The illusion that came with the intake felt like an old familiar house, it comforted me, and birthed this perfect world that cut off me from my shitty reality...
...And today, seeing her made me spiral, I wanted her so bad, not sexually —even though she had a hold on my third leg— I just wanted her because she was the only 'real life thing' that made me stable. She gave me the feeling this drug gives me. Rhapsody. And the moment I laid eyes on her, I desperately needed her to come with me.
I was willing to listen to why she did what she did even if it meant her using the flimsiest excuse the world had ever heard, I wanted her to come up with anything, so I'll forgive her, but I forgot reality, I forget where I was and who she was and pushed too hard; too damn hard, I failed to catch my desperation taking over me in that moment until she snapped me back to reality— her rhetoric question wasn't supposed to hold any weight, but it did because I was back to it.
I relapsed the moment we ended.
My phone rings, the ringtone startling me. I clear the dashboard of any trace, taking a deep breath before answering the call.
"As-salamu alaykum," I greet.
"Wa-Alaikum-Salaam," Baba replies, "yaya kake?" He asks. [how are you?]
"ina lafiya, na gode... kuma ku?" I reply, smiling. [I am fine, thank you... and you?]
"Alhamdulillah," He responds, "how's your wife?"
"She's okay, thank you. Is there a problem? Why'd you call?" I ask, puzzled.
"I heard you're in Abuja?"
I roll my eyes, almost kissing my teeth in annoyance but I hold back. "Yes, I'm here for brief business, I'm leaving in three hours,"
"Move the flight,"
"Why?"
I don't think an atom of emotion (for each other) exists between us anymore, Baba is aware of the bridge he burnt two years ago, and he is also no stranger to the gravity of damage he has done to me and our relationship but I guess as long as his money keeps coming, the family name and his reputation to his fellow elite remain intact, the old man could care less about the damage... in his words: "you'll thank me in a few years."
"I set up a meeting with you and the VP of Dahiru Group in Accra, so I want you in Ghana before tomorrow afternoon,"
"What for?" I question, my voice laced with annoyance.
"The new building for Danhaad Oil in Tamale and Kumasi. I apologize for the impromptu notice, but I spoke to your secretary in London and she said you were in Abuja, so I thought it wise to tell you before you leave the country since it's less than two hours if you were to fly from the capital to Accra,"
I clench my jaw. We work together most times and that shit drains me because of his 'last-minute' meetings and changes. The old man is always doing what he pleases and we've had a lot of fights on this, Heck! My mother had to intervene one time because it got so heated, he almost hit me.
With all the random fights we've had, you'll think he'll never speak to me again but no, somehow, I'm the son he loves to call when he wants to get something done cleanly.
"...That's fine, but the jet was scheduled to take us to London, so, instead of disturbing Nabila with this new arrangement, tell your travel agent to get me a flight to Accra,"
"Don't worry, I'll send my jet,"
"Okay,"
"Alhaji Sanusi will be there with Mr. Abang, so, you won't be handling it alone,"
"Alright,"
"Thank you," He says, and I reply: "Okay, ban kwana," ending the call before he says any more words. [goodbye]
. . .
"Hey baby," Nabila coos the moment I walk into the room. She's arranging some clothes in her small-sized Louis Vuitton suitcase which lies open on the bed.
"How are you? Did you have breakfast yet?" I ask, heading towards her as she spreads her arms open, calling for a hug.
"Yes, I did. I kept some for you," She answers as I engulf her in an embrace.
"Isn't it gonna be cold already?"
"I'll have them bring another one," She says, her head on my chest and her arms around my torso, "I missed you," She inhales my scent.
"Same," is my reply.
"How was your meeting with Deji?" She questions, looking up at me, eyes drinking me in.
I release her from the hug. "It was good. Umm... my dad called and I'll have to be in Ghana tomorrow, so, I'm not leaving with you,"
The smile on her face disappears. "Why?"
"Business, obviously,"
She sighs. "How many days?"
"Maybe a day or two,"
"Well, that's fine," she says as if convincing herself.
I walk away from her and climb into bed, tired and slightly high.
"Do you want me to order you breakfast now?" She asks as I settle under the duvet, ready to sleep reality away.
"No. I'm fine,"
"But you haven't eaten all day," I feel her movement on the mattress as she creeps closer to my side of the bed.
"I'm not hungry,"
"Are you okay?" She strokes my left cheek, looking into my eyes, maybe trying to read it but it's impossible to read because my eyelids are heavy and can barely stay open right now.
"Yeah, I am. You should get ready," I tell her.
"I know, but I'm tryna pamper you before I leave,"
I smile. "Thanks, but seriously, get ready,"
She's quiet. "Well... before I go, I wanna tell you that Doctor Sarah and I spoke when you were away,"
"Mhmhmm,"
"Yeah and I told her the good news..."
"Hmm, that's good,"
"But I told her to keep the surrogate on standby, and I also to hold–"
"Why?" I cut her off, puzzled.
"Just in case,"
"In case what?"
She looks down at her stomach which is still as flat as a chopping board.
"You need to believe it'll stay, Nabila. Don't be negative. Fill yourself with faith... come," I spread my arms and she falls into them, her curly hair in my face for a brief second before I caress some strands away. "Everything's gonna be okay. I'm here for the baby... and you."
She loves it when we're this way and I know she's going to use this pregnancy as an excuse to unlock unlimited affection from me, but that's okay, I'm willing to do that until the one thing I want arrives.
. . .
It's been seven hours since Nabila left with the driver to the airport and all I have done is lay in bed, waking up from sleep and going back, desperate for morning to arrive so I can leave this city, and remain far from it.
I check the time on my watch and it's currently thirty minutes past nine.
I attempt to close my eyes and force one more round of sleep that can take me into tomorrow but it's no use, my body has had more than enough sleep and doesn't want to cooperate anymore.
"Ugh, fuckin' hell," I grunt.
In no time, I maneuver my way out of bed,m ready to do some work on my laptop and listen to some music, whilst I am at this, I order a fine bottle of champagne to be brought to my room... I need to take advantage of Nabila's absence. It feels good not having to share my space with her.
I set my laptop on the desk in a corner of the room, connecting the Bluetooth to my JBL speaker instead of my AirPods so I can hear when the room service arrives. I like the setup I've made so I sit on the chair, basking in the rhythm of Asa's music, letting her vocals soothe my eardrums whilst I review the documents Deji forwarded to me.
🎶 You're like the beautiful sunrise in the morning
When I look into your eyes, they mesmerize me
Oh, you remind me that l am lucky, lucky
You're the one that I'm gonna live my life with 🎶
I sing along, enjoying the aura of the dimly lit room and loving the peace and alone time right now.
I just need my champagne now, I think, and as if they can hear my thought in the wine cellar, I hear a knock on the door.
Hurriedly, I make my way to the door.
I check the peephole and I'm stunned. It's not room service with my champagne...
I pull the door backward, and this is no figment of my imagination, she's standing there clothed in a pair of dark-blue sweatpants and a hoodie with the hood over her head like she's hiding from something.
I'm looking down at her, my heart racing as she stares at me. "You came," I unbelievably say, lost in her eyes.
——
Shout out to @fairskinned_ , she commented on wanting Beverly to come to the hotel and it made me laugh because that was literally the plot 😂😂😂
I love all of you and there's nothing I enjoy more than reading your comments, okay, I'm signing out for fr byeeee ❤️