“Our dilemma is that we hate change and love it at the same time. What we really want is for things to remain the same, but get better.” – Sydney J. Harris.
•••
The gentle knock, stemming from the door—jolted Lekan out of his reverie. He had been up for about an hour, and couldn’t help his thoughts from ruminating on the way out of the maze he had deliberately, plunged himself into. Ever since he had severed all financial ties with his father, his mind had gone into overdrive, assimilating the full gravity of his rebellion and the downsides it posed, as well as a variety of options, he could utilize to get back on his feet and become wholly independent, free from his father’s claws.
Since, his house—an asset of his dad—no longer belonged to him, he had crashed at Sultan’s for the night, where he still was at the moment. He was still unsure of his future and its implication, but he knew there was no time to loiter about in frivolity. He needed to find a solution, before his dilemma morphed into a chasm and sucked him in totally, rendering him totally powerless.
Pushing himself off the bed, he crossed the length of the room to let Sultan in, who was probably knocking to inquire on the rudiments of his unpremeditated, crash landing in the apartment. The room had an exquisite interior of brown timber bricks and contemporary furniture, blended in a way that it boomed of potent masculinity. Just one glance around, and one could deduct from the atmosphere that it was crafted by a handy architect, who had a knack for grounded designs implemented from scratch as opposed to modern integration and fusions, of previously existing working themes. Sultan was still clad in the same grey, faded vest and black briefs he wore to bed the previous night. His friend closed the door behind him, while he turned to sink back on the plump, king-sized bed.
“Now that you’re not drunk out of your mind and wishing that you had a cloning device, so you could clone yourself and kiss your dad’s ass, while also living the true life you want to live—can you tell me the actual reason, why you’re here though?” Sultan was saying, as he wheeled out a desk chair, from a corner of the room to the edge of his bed. His friend’s dreads wasn’t packed, and so dangled freely about his profile. Sultan looked a lot, like a younger, dapper and less radical version of Burna Boy.
Lekan sat up, his back rested on the framework of the bed and his legs, crossed. “Dad and I had a falling out of the sorts, yesterday. It wasn’t pretty and some things were said, that can’t ever be taken back. Bottom line is, he has frozen all my accounts and taken all my belongings. So I’m sort of solo now.”
Sultan’s scowl deepened, and he shook his head in scrutiny. “While I’m not putting it past your dad doing that, why did he decide to take that sort of decision, now? Surely, he’s not just realizing how great a son you are, so there must be something behind it. Look, you have to give me the full gist man. Not like I care about your ass that much, but I need to know if I’m courting disaster with the man, by harboring you here. I don’t need my own privileges cut by my father, for aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Lekan scoffed, irritation seeping into his being. Not like he detested sharing the information with Sultan, but it was the fact that it bared him as a vulnerable, helpless man without his dad’s financial backing, that irked him. He didn’t realize that until the present moment. “He asked me to take over the company, and I said no because I have no interest in that. And he says, it’s either I’m in business with him or not and that’s it.”
“Now that makes much more sense,” Sultan nodded, and was that a smile at the edge of his lips? He seemed mildly amused, but not on the verge of bursting out in a chuckle or something. “But what exactly is your problem with running the company, huh Lekan? It’s not like you’re doing something else that you love so much, and is so engaging. Sure business is a hard man’s work, but your dad has done most of the work in setting up the company, and making it a business empire. Taking over from him shouldn’t be such a hard, imposing job. Plus, it’s just much more money for you to flex when you’re free.”
“I don’t want to do anything, that I don’t want to do.” He replied in an aggravated voice, his emotions getting the better of him. What was it with everyone highlighting the damned logic behind his father’s request? Did it change the fact that he didn’t want to be stuck doing something, he loathed for the rest of his life? Trimming down the pleasures of his life, to serve in another man’s legacy? Prioritizing his father’s wishes over his? He loved the way his life was at the moment, and he didn’t want to let in aliens that would colonize it into some extra terrestrial habitat, foreign to him.
“Really, Lekan?” Sultan met his gaze, and leaned forward—balancing his weight on his elbows, propped on his thighs. “You want to eat your cake and have it, and keep on eating it. So you don’t want to work for your father or do any reasonable thing for him, but you want to keep on living a privileged life, that’s only comfortable as a result of his money?
“And what do you mean by someone else’s legacy? You talk like he isn’t your dad. Plus, let’s assume you want to do your own thing—which you’re not in the first place, do you think you wouldn’t be working harder, than it’s required for the role your dad wants you to step into at the office? Sometimes you amaze me. I get it, we all love the flexing life. But you’re not even ready to make compromises in the slightest way.”
“I can make compromises!” He matched the hostility in his friend’s voice and rose from the bed. “I can work, okay? I’m not just going to work there and let him have his way all the time. He’s not the lord and overseer of my life, okay. I’m the one.”
Sultan gave him a pathetic laugh. “So this is only as a result of you standing your ground and insisting that he can’t control and boss you around? Yes, fine. That is sucky, but is he at fault here? Who has decided not to be independent? You’re fucking twenty six for Christ sake, and you’re still a trust fund, baby.
“Your dad still sponsors your expenses, and the job you do as a real estate agent—which you don’t even take serious in the first place—is still facilitated by this same man, you hate for controlling your life. So whose fault is it? If you want to be like the rest of your mates, who their fathers don’t control their lives, why don’t you get a job and take it seriously and sponsor your own life? But no, the man is imposing and a dictator but you can flex and enjoy with his money. Please, give me a break—”
“Sure, it’s all his money—”
“Yes, it’s all his money. If he decides not to give you, he won’t receive a heavenly slap from God. Okay?” Lekan started, but got cut off by Sultan again. “He works for the money, you don’t help him in the work of getting the money, but you have an entitlement over it, right? And now you have a chance to help, and you don’t. Sometimes, I wonder just how naïve you are. Do you even know how harsh the real world is out there? Do you know of the problems, regular people have to face, regarding spending money to meet their never ending needs—”
Lekan snorted, cackling and placing his hands on his waist just as Sultan rose to his feet also. “And you’d know about the problems of the average man?”
“I know, and understand better than you’d ever do because unlike you, I have an actual job.” Sultan shot back, venom and contempt in his voice. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s legit. Running a nightclub is no small thing and although I get help from my dad every now and then, I handle most of the expenses on my own and only get help for big, capital projects.
“I understand what it means to be broke. I understand what it means to plot a scale of preference, to easily identify my most pressing and important needs because money is ever enough. I understand what it means to borrow money and get loans, and feel the overwhelming pressure and anxiety of wanting to be able to deliver and pay back on time. And all this is just money based and has nothing to do with the stress and technicalities that comes with doing my job.
“But you’re here, half-assing your real estate job and loitering about. If you wish, you might not take your work seriously in a year and you’d still have more than enough money to spend. Seriously, Lekan your type of spoilt is out of this world and if no one is courageous enough to say it to you, I’d say it. I just look at you and regret the day your mom fell into a coma, and left your life at a very crucial age. If she were around, you wouldn’t have turned out as bad as this. Honestly.”
Lekan wanted no more of it. No more of Sultan’s critiquing and berating, as if he were some kindergarten kid that needed to be schooled on the convoluted terrains of life. Nobody got it, nobody got him. He refused to succumb to life’s restraining cuffs, while he had a say over it. Even if everyone around him caved in, and decided to pay some price for the exchange of their liberty—he wasn’t exactly willing to. Although, he couldn’t refute his friend’s point and toss them away as nonsensical. And for the first time ever, he was docile enough to view the condition from a fresh perspective.
“If I asked you right now, if you have a plan, I’m pretty sure you would be able to come up with nothing.” Sultan had his hands braced on the back of his chair now, with his voice still dripping in admonition. “Because in as much as you want to come up with your own thing and become your own man, you have no idea how that works. You’ve always had your dad support, your entire life and relinquishing it at age twenty-six, when you should have mastered the tenets of independency is just plain silly. I don’t know what you think the condition is here, but I can’t exactly do more for you than let you crash here. Even now, I’m considering kicking you out, as that would probably be the only action capable of knocking sense into you—”
“Really?” Lekan narrowed his eyes.
“Yes, really.” Sultan continued. “What you think this is, some drama TV series? Where the immature young heir rebels against his father and decides to go do his own thing and eventually succeeds? Wake up, Lekan. If I were you, I’d be boarding a cab right now, to your dad’s house so as to make amends and apologize, before he decides he wants nothing to do with you at all.”
Lekan raked his hands through his head, and fell back on the bed. “So you’re saying there is nothing, you can do exactly to help me? No job, nothing?”
“My assistant, who is my highest paid employee earns around hundred thousand naira every month. I’m pretty sure, you spend more than that on drinks alone annually.” Sultan replied, with a taunting expression. “And let’s even assume there is a universe you can make do with that, every month—I can’t even afford to pay you that much. I’m not a business magnate, Lekan. You shouldn’t be asking me for help. Another business magnate, needs your help and helping him comes with even better benefits. So, I don’t know what we’re doing here.”
Lekan raised his arms up, as if he was done resisting being bundled up by cops. “Fine, fine. I hear you. Nice speech. I’d think about it.”
“It’s nice that you think you have a choice,” Sultan said. “Anyway, if you’re hungry, you should check the freezer. There is probably some left over rice in a takeout somewhere there. It’s nothing much, but you should manage it. Maybe in the short time you’re here, you’d get a glimpse of what it means to be financially independent.
“I on the other hand, would grab a snack on the way to work. I have to get going, it’s almost seven.” His friend paused, to whirl around in a bid and confirm his prediction. “I won’t be back until evening, so try not to burn my house to the ground. And keep your…urges in check. I don’t need you making your imprint on anyone in my house.”
Lekan gave him a nasty look. “Yes, dad. What else should I stay away from? The TV? The cake on the table? When do I get my monthly allowance?”
“Ouu, grumble all you want but I mean all what I said. Don’t give me a reason to kick you out of the house, on a night that I don’t have a woman over.” Sultan finally concluded, before letting himself out of the room, not bothering to mutter a farewell. Lekan shut the door behind him, and dived back into his ocean of solitude.
He needed quiet to process the excess baggage that life was throwing his way, to sort through the contents and find out if any was worth using, was worth listening to and re orienting his life for a resolution. Just as that moment, his phone dinged from where it laid on the nightstand. He half expected it to be Sultan, warning him to keep to his wishes—but his face crinkled, when he realized it was as an unsaved contact. Perhaps, a potential client.
“Hello?” He said, after swiping to pick the call.
“Lekan? It’s me. Naade. We met on Saturday at the pier.”
Lekan found it amusing and heartwarming, that Naade thought she was the type of woman who didn’t leave a lasting impression and remained evergreen in the memory of any man, she crossed path with. At the sound of her sultry voice alone, he had been able to construe she was indeed the one. Why it took her so long to contact him, eluded him though. Perhaps, she wasn’t in dire need of the apartment as she let on.
“Do you really need to emphasize, that much? Of course I know it’s you. You didn’t leave my mind, Naade. I’ve been thinking about you.” He replied, sitting up.
“Well, I don’t know. A lot can happen in two days.” She laughed, still managing to sound coquettish despite her amused state. She deserved a myth in her name, for being the goddess of sexual innuendo. “So what’s up? Have you been thinking about my house, as much as you’ve been doing—me?”
Lekan bit his lower lip, the underlying meaning of her statement, waking him up instantly. “Well, trust me it’s been hard. Thinking about your house, and doing you also.” He made sure to pause, and put special emphatic stress on the latter part of his statement, so she got the earlier implication of her last statement. As expected, she caught on to it and shrieked in another thirst, inducing laughter. “I have narrowed down a few things, but I’m afraid I’m not the man for the job at the moment.”
“I doubt it. I’ve heard a lot of stories about your capability to satisfy.” Naade replied in an alluding tone, and he couldn’t help but grin despite his aroused state. “What’s the problem? Why do you think so?”
If it irked him further to discuss his plight with Sultan, it aggravated him to share it with Naade. But there was no point hoarding the development. “Well, my dad and I aren’t currently on the best terms at the moment, and he is the one that facilitates the entire work and all. So currently I’m incapacitated and I can’t do much. Sorry if I disappointed you or anything.”
There was a brief pause on her end, followed by a slight grunt before she talked. “Sorry, I’m about to go out—so I’m slipping into some clothes. By the way, I understand fall outs with dads a lot. People like us tend to have overbearing fathers, but at the end of the day, they want what’s best for us. I hope you work things out with your dad and put it behind you.”
“Yeah, hopefully.”
“Let me let you in on a little secret. I don’t exactly need a house. The house thing was just a front to get to know you.”
“Really?” At this he stood up, and began pacing.
“Yup, I saw you at the reception and thought you looked pretty tasty. I shared this bit with my friend and she told me to stay away from you and that you’re bad news, because you never do commitments and you’re the last thing I want to get involved with. But she was wrong.” There was another pause, before she added. “You’re exactly what I need. I just got out from a very stuffy marriage, and I need a break. A breath of fresh air and an adventure. I don’t want anything serious also. I just realized then and there, that you are indeed the perfect man for the job.”
“What’s your address?” His body was trembling with the desire already. “Tell me where and when I can come over, so I can rectify the fact that you’re slipping on clothes over that gorgeous, sexy body. You pissed me off earlier, when you said you were wearing clothes. I need to vent my anger on you.”
Naade chuckled boisterously, in satisfaction from the other end. “I’d text you, the address and time you should come over. Would be expecting you. Hope your anger wouldn’t have died off by evening.”
“Impossible, later then.” He said, before hanging up and chucking the phone onto his bed. He had a pressing matter to attend to, but the timing of this fortunate accident was perfect. What better time to drink from the fountain of pleasure, than when one was weary and fatigued from the arduous rigors of life?
***
“Please move the camera closer to the chart. Can’t make out the figures well.” Sola ordered from the other end of the video call, imploring Anjola to ease her visual access of the document. Rising from her seat, Anjola shifted the tablet from the center of the table—where it was positioned, so her and Delano—who were seated across her on the table could see. When it was at the edge, she positioned it an angle of elevation in the hopes that the camera could caption the details on the chart, plastered on the board.
It was the noon of Wednesday, and she was in an important crucial meeting with Delano and Sola Soneyin, the head of the department who was on maternity leave. They were discussing the company’s annual expenditures and areas, said money was disbursed to. Her position in the office didn’t grant her access to such classified meetings, that carried such gargantuan weight in relation to the company, but for the past few weeks—she had been acting as a stand-in sort off, for Delano as department deputy, while he acted as the head so it was only natural that she was privy to the details of said meeting.
“Everything seems to pan out, nothing seems off.” Sola’s voice boomed over the phone in a no-nonsense, ardently formal tone capable of making the hair on any normal person, stand in anxiety. “Asides from the sudden rise in money dispensed on fuel, everything seems to check out. So yeah, you guys should investigate why the daily cost of running the power plant just blew out of proportion like some weather air balloon. And please when you’re investigating, don’t be so grim about it as if someone could be sacked as a result of a shortcoming. It makes everyone less cooperative.”
“Roger, Sola.” Delano replied, on behalf of them both before moving on to announce that time was far spent, and the meeting be ended, with its talk adjourned to the future. It was a couple of minutes past two pm, and so it was break. A huge bulk of the company’s working populace had invoked the discount services in the KFC across the street, as a result of it enjoying close proximity with Sigma. It was tradition for virtually every worker to file there during break, to grab something to eat and although she wasn’t much for the trend, today she was heading over because she was downright famished. Delano offered to walk her out of the office after clearing out his desk.
“Is everything okay?” Delano asked, as their paces synced—in the hallway, on their wall to board the elevator to the base floor. “You’re looking sort of overwhelmed, as if for the past few years you’ve been in the shadows but today, we revealed the true evil nature of our work here at Sigma where we perform some sort of ridiculous ritual that’s totally creepy and get us life sentences, if we’re caught.”
“Of course that’s not it.” She couldn’t help but smile, that her pensive face was interpreted as a stunned one. “It was just like, a certain degree of surrealism being in a meeting of such high importance today. I never thought I’d bear witness to such, but I did today.
“And why I know it’s not much of a big deal, because I’m not getting in way over my head and assuming, I’m going to get a promotion out of the blues or something, simply because I’ve been working in a higher capacity recently, it still feels like a dream come true, you know? So my mind is just sort of, hitting pause on the entire thing and pausing to swallow it all down and savor it, because it’d be gone before I know it.”
Delano didn’t reply, until they were on the elevator and she could decipher through his agonized facial expression, that it was quite the harrowing ordeal for him, coming up with the ideal words and consolation sensitive to her plight. But she didn’t need the sweet serenade of some assurance that all would be well again, and so it prompted her to talk again and put him out of his misery.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything on that front.” She reached out to hold him affectionately, on the left bicep just as the elevator halted and the doors parted. After they alighted, and were heading out of the premises—en route to the fast food outlet, she added. “I feel grateful enough that you picked me, despite the fact that you had tons of people in the department to choose from.”
“You’re the most diligent person I know, Anjola.” Delano replied, with a sly smile as they neared the road and attempted to cross over to the other side. When the coast cleared, they strode across in swift strides before any car could return back in sight. Delano’s pace slowed, as he realized that they were obviously parting ways, as she’d be leaving his side to go join her friends. “And I really do want to get to know you, more. You’re filled with vigor and you seem so layered, that I know constant office interaction isn’t going to cut it. I need something fresh and more intimate, and that’s the main reason you are my first and only choice for the C.E.O’s birthday bash. I hope you’re able to make it.”
He didn’t exactly profess his undying love for her, or recite some poetic parable that gave off his intention to ignite a relationship of a romantic inclination with her, but his brief confession sufficed as personal, and heart borne which Anjola found adequate enough. Honestly, she knew deep down that anything more than that, she would automatically classify as over intense and overboard.
“I am going to make it, Delano.” She smiled, ramming one side of her body into his, mildly in a reassuring gesture. “Now just pray rapture doesn’t come before then. We’d talk later. I am very hungry. Later.” She proceeded into the restaurant, and met the usual lively chatter and buzz of life, vibrating in the atmosphere. She easily located Adaure at their usual spot, on the farthest table on the first column. It wasn’t until she set her bag into the booth, and sunk into the chair that she noticed her friend—wearing a blue denim overcoat on a pink floral blouse—sulking.
“What’s wrong?” Anjola’s face wrinkled also, as she sought the source of her friend’s sorrow.
“Nothing,” Adaure gave her a very convincing, dismissing shake of the head that she almost bought, if she hadn’t caught her off guard, looking so sober. She wasn’t even devouring her piece of crispy chicken, like she usually did. Now that she looked into the saucer before Adaure, she noticed the wing of the chicken had suffered little bites and had gone mostly, untouched while the owner fiddled with her glass of Coke. “I just don’t have an appetite today for some reason. Happens like that sometimes. How was the meeting with Delano?”
“Great,” Anjola understated the magnitude of the meeting’s importance, but she didn’t want to oversell it because Adaure didn’t seem all that enthusiastic, and only asked out of mere obligation as a dear friend. At least, that’s what her intuition hinted at. Something felt missing, and she looked around, furtively and it hit her right there and then, what was wrong with Adaure. “Where is Ehize?”
“Not here,” Adaure said again, in a flat voice with a blank expression and Anjola would have assumed the subject matter was one of an inconsequential nature to her friend, if she didn’t have a deeper foray into the emotion state of her friend.
Just like every other young woman at Sigma, Adaure had the hots for Ehize and although she was never upfront about it, Anjola had decrypted that bit simply because she was a woman also, and the fact that Adaure was her friend. This gave her a nigh telepathic ability to discern things and read between the lines of actions, in a way that most people couldn’t. She hadn’t come outright to say it to Adaure’s face that she had figured out that fact, because she knew it would be opposed strongly so she had mostly been mute on the matter. One of these days, she intended to speak up and shove her friend to bare her emotions, but now wasn’t the time for that.
“Why?” Anjola asked, after the waiter who appeared to take her order—disappeared back to the counter. She removed her grey cotton jacket, pleated with a wool faux collar and draped it over the back of her chair before facing her friend, in response of an answer. She was wearing a sleeveless shift gown, with a back detail that exposed an enormous amount of skin than she was comfortable with—hence the jacket. She was pretty sure no one could study her back from where she sat, as it was meshed with the cushion of the seat.
“Well, he said he works and hangs out with us all day at work and so, it is not necessary for us to sit and eat together again for lunch. And what’s the fun if we don’t give each other breaks?” Adaure said, her shoulders rising with a grim expression, as if she had no care in the world, for the words being uttered by her.
“He’s just being silly. What the hell does that even mean?” Anjola frowned, clasping her hands and trying to wrap her head around his sorry excuse. The waiter arrived in no moment and returned with her platter of crispy chicken and a bottle of Coke also. She delved into her meal almost immediately, tearing off a huge chunk of meat and stuffing her mouth with it in the most civilized, and refined way she could manage, without coming off as a barbarian before following it up with a swig from her bottle of Coke.
“Please let’s talk about something else,” At this, Adaure’s face brightened and she edged forward in her seat—bracing her elbows on the table. “So Delano walked you here, didn’t he? Was the conversation fully professional and a left over from the meeting, or it was something personal and a development I should know of? Sorry, I don’t like being snoopy but you have no idea how much I’ve fantasized you guys being in a relationship and hitting it off. It’d be so great.”
Anjola rolled her eyes, as she couldn’t reply immediately since her mouth was busy crunching on the spicy goodness of chicken. When she had cleared up space in it, she spoke. “Well, It’s nothing intense really but he’s clarified that the reason why he asked me to be his plus one, has nothing to do with the fact that we’re great work partners. He said it’s because he’d like to know me on a more personal and intimate level and that I seem fun and layered. He made it sound like I’m some deep work of art, which’s brilliance can’t be appreciated in the first viewing or reading, but until it’s being studied several times. It was flattering though, and I returned his enthusiasm.”
Adaure’s face contorted into a grin, and this time when she picked up her meat—she tore off a huge chunk. “My ship is so going to take off. I really hope it doesn’t capsize, though. But honestly, I gotta say. Anytime you’re talking about the guy, you look so…bored and neutral as if he’s as fun and intriguing, as fiddling with your ballpoint pen.
“It’s okay to not be head over heels in love with him at the moment, but you’re hardly showing a slight hint of excitement. You also have a nag of over thinking stuff, but you’re so unusually calm and collected as if this isn’t an event with a colossal importance and all you were asked to do was, take out the trash or something. Are you attracted to him in the slightest way?”
Anjola sighed, and pondered over this in the most thorough way she could at the moment. Did a touch from him, elicit sparks on her finger tips and ramp up her heartbeat? Nope. Did she hang on to tidbits after a conversation with him, to the point that it’s memorable and she recounts the pleasant memory several days later, and laugh? Nope. Did the thought of him, release a sensational, vertigo-esque mind boggling thrill to course through her veins? Nope. All she had for him, was simply admiration for the great person and acclaim he had. It was just as simple as that.
“I don’t know, honestly.” Anjola sighed, reclining into her chair and letting her fingers, splay all around her glass. “It’s like you said on Monday, the thought of dating him doesn’t irritate or disgust me but at the same time…I don’t know really. And it should make me nervous and restless, you know. Because I like to think he’s my type. Handsome, decent man that’s an intellectual and well achieved in his field. Someone who is emotionally stable, like he seems. So I really do not understand why it’s not stimulating the type of reaction, it should.”
Before Adaure could speak, the thrumming sound of her ringtone interrupted the air between them and she turned to her side immediately, to rummage through it for her phone. The caller ID read, Tiolu and her heart leapt in glee. As a result of the huge lapses and differences in time zones, they hadn’t been able to communicate much, except through texts that weren’t instant rapidly replied ones. It would be the first time, she’d be hearing the voice of her best friend since she departed on Sunday. She motioned to Adaure, that she be excused before sliding out of her seat and heading outside the outlet to receive the call, as a result of the cacophony of noise inside.
“Tiolu.”
“Anjola!” The girl’s high octane voice pierced her ear, from the other end of the line and the resulting sensation was so sharp, that she had to grit her teeth. Her friend sounded like an elated scientist, who had finally unraveled the mystery behind the success of a pivotal thesis that he or she had failed a million times at. “How are you? Oh my God, I miss you so much!”
“I’m fine, and I miss you too!” She wanted to match her friend’s squeal of joy, but it would most likely draw the scorn of passer-bys. “How are you? How is Spain? How is your honeymoon going? How is everything? I hope it’s all glorious as you expected.”
“Oh, it’s magnificent babe. You can’t even imagine.” Tiolu let out with a breeze. There was almost little to no background noise on the other end of the line, and Anjola couldn’t help but wonder if her friend were indoors? Honeymoons were all about exploring and pushing the limits of desire and fun, so today was probably one of those days, the couple decided to stay indoors and recharge their batteries. She longed to know the exact situation of things, but disciplined herself not to ask. It was an extremely personal experience for Tiolu. Something she had no entitlement over knowing the details, despite their relationship.
“I don’t even know where to start from, everything is just great to the point that it’s overwhelming and it wears me out all the time.” Tiolu continued, in an ecstatic voice. “Spain has really been adventurous and romantic. Next week, we’re travelling to UAE before we round it all up in Switzerland. By the time, I’m back home—I’d have had sex in three different exotic countries with my husband.”
Anjola erupted into a laugh, mesmerized by the information, but not daring to ask for more. “The sex is really good then, and not like painful and all?” She had reduced her volume now, and retreated to a secluded area of the restaurant’s environment.
“Really? A.J.? Of all questions to ask?” She wasn’t sure if her friend sounded horrified, but she went on to ask anyway. “I won’t lie that there isn’t pain at all, especially the first time but it’s usually numbed and overshadowed by the pleasure anyway. Especially, when your partner is taking your pace and needs into consideration and isn’t just interested in satisfying himself, so yeah.
“It’s really great, A.J. and so incredibly intimate and personal that I’m so happy, I hadn’t done it with anyone prior to Dayo. It’s like giving a piece of your soul away to the person. I don’t know how people do it casually, as if it’s some trifle thing like grabbing a snack off a confectionery stand outside.”
“Well, I guess it just means different things to different people.” Anjola replied. It was the best words she could come up with, since she had virtually zero to little knowledge in the area.
“It’s a very sacred and spiritual thing, Anjie. I hope you meet your own perfect match, so you can experience it in all its epic, undiluted glory.” Tiolu laughed. “I guess the reason, why we aren’t talking much is because we have too much to say, and we don’t know where to start from. Plus, this phone call would be inadequate as it wouldn’t last for long. When I return, I might just go on a honeymoon with you also just so we can catch up on the past few months. Ever since the wedding planning started, we’ve not had quality time for each other.”
“At all,” Anjola shook her head, smiling. “But you’d be back soon, though. Although, I’m now officially second priority but I guess I can contend and make do with that until I become third, fourth or fifth priority, depending how many kids you decide to have. Don’t take me too seriously, that’s just me messing around.”
“You’re silly, if you think my family is going to drive a wedge between us, Anjie.” Tiolu said in such a firm voice, that it almost wiped out all of Anjola’s paranoia. “Gotta go now, though. I guess we’d text later. I miss you, and I love you. Bye.”
“Bye. I love you too. And do clarify, that it’s me you’re talking to over the phone, in case Dayo walks in and assume you didn’t wait for the honeymoon to be over, before you got another man.” Tiolu’s hearty laughter was the last thing she heard, before the line dropped.
Sighing, she let herself back inside to resume her meal, while constantly being plagued by the thoughts that a lot about her life—on the best friend and romantic turf—was about to undergo drastic changes.
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Are you smelling the friction? I think Tiolu and Anjola’s friendship is about to go on a monumental ride. One way to be sure? Read on.
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