Saheed:
Sitting alone and eating breakfast with a hard on was not on my agenda for the day.
My meal doesn't taste so delicious anymore; not when I have tasted something far more intoxicating. What on earth had brought Ola here? How could one look at her melt all my resolve to stay away and dey my dey? Why did you decide to remind her of the things she left behind eons ago?
Anita showing up and ruin my silent meal isn't part of the plan, either.
"Good morning, grumpy man," she greets me as she plops herself down on the seat across the table from me.
"How did you know I was here?" I ask her, unable to help the frown that forms on my face.
"A nice coincidence, actually. I thought to order for breakfast here, then call you to come and settle the bills like a darling."
Christ. What did I get myself into with this girl?
In a moment of weakness- and in a bid to forget about Ola- I had called up Anita, wined and dined with her, and we had ended up in bed a few times. As with my other liaisons, I had made it clear what I wanted from the onset. No romance, just sex and company once in a while. She had agreed, promising that everything would be purely friends with benefits, no strings attached.
So why does it suddenly feel like she is intruding?
Over the past two months, I have ensured that she lacks nothing- money, clothes, whatever she wants except me. And that has worked out well for us; great sex, no expectations. So why does she show up unannounced today?
"Anita, don't you have activities lined up for today?"
Anita shakes her head. "No work for me today. I've been such a good girl, my boss told me to take the day off." She emphasizes on the good girl, a small smile on her lips.
A pretty young woman she is, Anita. Ebony skin and curves in the right places, youthful exuberance and so much energy. A loud, tinkling laughter and a breathy voice. A small part of me knows that I had initially been interested in Anita because of her slight resemblance to... Queen. I had noticed her that fateful night at G-plus, the same night that Ola had come into my life.
Ola came into my life and now I can't seem to let her go easily, I muse.
"And you chose to show up uninvited?" I ask Anita. "I thought we've been through this sort of conversation before."
I push the remnants of my meal away. Anita pulls the plates towards herself, picking up my cutlery and scooping jollof spaghetti and vegetables into her mouth, sucking the strands in a manner I would have found seductive if I weren't so distracted.
"I missed you," she says with a pout.
Egungun be careful, na express you dey go.
I raise my brows. "That is a red flag, especially as we both agreed on the same terms."
The fork falls from Anita's hand to the chinaware with a loud clatter. A few people look in our direction.
"Saheed- "
"It means that feelings have just joined the group chat."
"You really don't feel anything for me?" she asks in mild disbelief.
"Anita, not here, please. Let me get you a ride back home. I don't want to create a scene."
"So that's it? Use and dump me, then?"
I rise to my full height and arch a brow, ensuring I appear as intimidating as I wish to be. "Stop talking like I did not warn you and we didn't both enjoy this so far. I'd appreciate my privacy and would not like to be intruded upon without a heads up. Now if you will excuse me, I have places to be. A ride will be waiting outside for you in two minutes. Have a nice day, Anita."
I walk away, knowing that she won't follow me. I have shaken her up a bit, good. That is the thing with these relationships, along the way one person develops feelings and ruins everything.
Just as I had ruined it with Queen, I mock myself with a smile. I remember how desperate I had been, showering her with gifts, trying to spend as much time as I could with her, close to losing my mind and letting my control slip. Of course, Queen had stated her terms: sex with no strings attached, no intimacy except our bodies clashing together in passion. After that, she'd go silent, eyes blank, largely uninterested in anything that had to do with me.
Making my way back to my suite, I greet a few familiar guests and nod at Claudia, who is attending to a guest. She looks bothered. I make my way towards her counter. The man standing before her turns to face me, and I stifle my grin. Baba and Claudia are not the best of friends. While there is no bad blood between them, I have observed that his presence unsettles poor Claudia. It is almost as though she expects him to hand her a sack letter every time she sees him on the premises.
"Good morning, Baba," I greet my father.
"Good morning, Saheed. How are you?"
"I am well. You?"
Baba nods and adjusts the full sleeves of his light blue agbada. "Same as you."
From the corner of my eye, I observe Claudia watching our exchange with interest. My presence has made her relax visibly.
"I came to tell you about something important," Baba murmurs to me. "Let us sit."
From the tone of his voice, I sense that all is not well. I follow Baba to a secluded part of the lobby, where there are empty sofas. We settle beside each other and I face my father, bracing myself for what bad news he has for me. Did something happen to Amina? To... Ma?
"Two weeks ago, I scheduled an event for this coming Saturday," he tells me. "I was so distracted, I didn't know. And now it's drawing nearer and it just dawned on me."
I feel myself go cold. This coming Saturday is the anniversary of Ibrahim's death. In our own different ways, Baba and I mourn for Ibrahim. We hardly do it together for obvious reasons, but that day is always a bleak one for us.
"The Small and Medium Enterprise Fair."
"Yes. And our attendance is mandatory, as we are one the major sponsors. I am even giving an opening speech. It's in the papers, it's on radio. There's no going back."
I rub a palm over my face and sigh deeply. "We have no choice, then." I smile weakly. "We have a responsibility."
"I wish I had known- "
"Don't beat yourself up about it, Baba. It was not your fault."
It is mine.
"I know how much that day means to you."
I shrug. "I suppose things change every once in a while."
My father nods slowly. For a moment, his eyes appear softer, more open so I catch a glimpse of his pain. Almost immediately, the steel returns. He squares his shoulders and rises to his feet. "I am attending the wedding of Rasheed's daughter. Remember Rasheed Mahmood?"
"The very one who tried to arrange a union between myself and Janna? Of course. Please send my warmest regards to them."
Baba chuckles, shaking his head. "You should consider a union, young man. Good bye."
"Good bye, Baba."
With a pat on my shoulder, my father strides away, his agbada billowing crisply around his tall frame.
***
I am helpless, watching in horror as the white Honda knocks my brother down from his bicycle, as he hits the tarred road in slow motion and the tyre crushes his chest, blood gushing from his mouth, thick and red. I fall from my own bicycle and struggle to detangle myself from the rods and wheels. My legs are too heavy to get me to him on time, and my scream is never heard, even though my mouth is wide open. I remember every detail about him clearly, like it had happened yesterday. Ibrahim's navy-blue shorts, the old scab on his knee. His black Nike cap, his neon green shirt and white sneakers. Oddly, I can't recall what I had worn.
His eyes were closed when I got to him. I remember patting his cheeks, my vision blurring with tears. Blood smeared on my hands. The horrible, horrible depression in his torso and the flood of crimson on the ground underneath us. Ibrahim never opened his eyes. The last time I saw him smile was right before the he rode his bright blue bicycle in the way of the white car.
***
The day I dread the most every year is here. As an added bonus, I have to spend it with people, instead of locking myself up away somewhere and mourning for the loss of my brother, a loss that had entirely been my fault. I gaze at myself in the mirror and force a smile. I have to wear one today, to pretend that I am having a good time. I have to shake hands, give hugs, grin in front of cameras, and speak with fake cheer.
Adjusting the sleeves of my black senator shirt, I give myself a thumbs up and make my way to the elevator. It baffles me how Baba had not pulled the strings to host this fair at Luxury's Finest. Our hall can easily fit about three hundred people and have ample space for the stands where the small business owners will show off their wares to potential customers.
Again, I recall that he was not focused when he scheduled this event. For all his disciplined façade. Baba is still hurting. Just like I am.
In silence, I drive to the Citizen's Centre, one of Lagos' largest and most beautiful event centers, owned by the government. High profile events take place here, and bookings are often competitive. My father must have used his connections to the governor to clinch this slot, I'm sure. Already, the surroundings are teeming with guests, who are milling around and socializing, taking pictures with the celebrities present. I spot Falz standing close to one of the entrance doors, with his trademark gold-rimmed glasses as a group of ladies surround him. Tall, dark and beautiful Tiwa is in front of a huge banner flex a few yards away, enjoying the flashlights of cameras and admiration of fans. I have no intention of stepping into the spotlight today. There will always be time for that.
A valet approaches me as I stop close to the red carpet at the entrance. I step out and hand him my keys, giving him firm instructions to ensure that he is available the moment I am ready to leave. He informs me that my father is in the waiting room behind the stage. It takes me a little over ten minutes to get to him, because I am approached for small talk, selfies with strangers, and a mini interview by one of the media houses covering the event.
"Good afternoon, Baba."
My father turns from the bright lights of the mirror he is looking at. Like me, he is dressed in black, but more casually than I am. He is alone here in this little air-conditioned room, and I wonder if his mood has sent everyone around him scampering in terror.
"How are you?" he asks me.
I nod once. "And you?"
He nods once, too. Together, we stand side by side in front of the mirror, two men sharing the same looks, right down to the creases between our brows. His black outfit makes the grey hair at his temples more evident. There are frown lines at the sides of his mouth, and on closer inspection, I see bags underneath his eyes.
Yes, like me, he didn't sleep well last night.
"He would have been here with us today, standing at my right hand," Baba murmurs.
I can hear the struggle behind his words, the struggle to keep his emotions in check. It makes me feel like the lowest of life forms. It wrenches my insides, squeezing my chest until I have to take deep breaths to get much-needed oxygen.
"Probably be married with kids, too. He was always the responsible one," I add.
"Ibrahim Jamal Bello," he says with a shake of his head. "Twenty years gone."
I let silence take over, allowing myself to imagine Ibrahim in his thirties, a baby in his arms as he smiles at me, showing his gapped teeth and probably telling me, "You're next, brother."
"Did you call Amina today?" Baba asks, pulling me back to reality.
"Yes. She is faring well."
"Did you ask her about your mother?"
A lump forms in my throat. "Yes. She has been mute since yesterday."
Baba sighs. "I did what I had to do. You know that, don't you?"
"I do. Baba, sometimes I wish- "
"Son, let's not do that today. Ibrahim wouldn't want that."
"You're right." I clench my jaw. "He wouldn't."
Baba places both hands on my shoulders. We face each other. "Saheed, we may have our differences, but I am grateful I still have you. You and Amina. I may not be the best father, I may have made some harsh decisions, but... I am grateful for you both."
Unable to reply, I nod, wondering when I began to possess agama lizard characteristics.
"Now, let's carry out our duties, shall we?"
"Yes."
An hour after he has given his opening speech, the fair is officially opened. With Baba and a host of celebrities present, I smile for pictures, have short conversations, and purchase a few goods from the business owners present. Suddenly it hits me, that Ola is a business owner and may be present. Maybe Baba had invited her, giving her a platform to showcase her work and build up her clientele. Against my will, I open my Instagram app in the middle of a conversation with Baba and one of the sponsors, a media mogul whose name I have forgotten.
A smile spreads over my face when I see her latest post on her Instagram profile, from ten minutes ago. In the photo, she is standing in front of a rack of clothes, hands clasped in front of her, a wide smile on her face. Standing beside her is a younger woman, probably in her early twenties.
Hello everyone! We are live at the #SMEFair! Come right up and say hello at Aisle seven, Stand five.
"Saheed?" Baba calls.
"Oh. Yes?" I look up from my phone screen to see my father watching me with keen interest.
"Is everything alright?"
"Of course. Please, excuse me. Sir," I tell the media mogul, "It was nice to meet you. I'll take my leave now. Thank you for your immense contribution to making this fair a reality."
With that, I am off, searching for Aisle seven, Stand five. It is the younger woman I meet at the stand, showing off a burgundy embroidered kaftan to a middle-aged man and talking about the fabric used. Behind her, one of the numerous racks is moving. Slowly, I make my way over to it and peer over it to see the top of Ola's head. She is murmuring to herself.
"Salome did not cut off the excess thread on those trousers, that woman. And where is the vintage shirt I asked her to pack yesterday? I swear to God- oh!"
She jumps backwards when she looks up and sees me.
"Did I scare you?" I ask her, unable to hold back my grin.
"You dare to ask?'
"Fancy seeing you here."
She rolls her eyes. "Ditto."
I haven't been able to forget her since that elevator kiss. It is like those moments are seared into my memory, popping up at the oddest times. Like now. I want to hold her, just hold her and breathe.
"Are you having fun?" I ask her since I have nothing else to say.
"More sales equals more fun."
"Let's get that money, then, shall we?"
Ola shakes her head. "As you can see, I am trying." She gestures to her assistant, who is talking to two women this time. "Salome is trying, too."
"Let me try, too."
"How?' she asks, baffled.
I leave her there and walk up to Salome and the two women. "Ladies, how are we today? I'm sure you're here to get surprise gifts for your men. You've come to the right place, I promise. Here, let me show you pictures of myself wearing some of these outfits..."
"That went well," Salome compliments after the satisfied women leave with paper shopping bags containing their purchases. "Are you a marketer?"
"Salome, I just might consider that."
My presence attracts more customers over the next hour. All it takes is for me to stand right beside Ola's stand and talk with people who approach me to discuss business- Baba's peers, socialites, and even strangers. Small talk leads to recommendations, a show of evidence via pictures of myself on my smartphone, some persuasion. Soon, Ola and Salome are running around, flustered as they pass on clothes to customers who are trying them on behind the makeshift dressing room they have created with curtains.
In an hour, Ola's racks are almost empty. She comes to stand beside me, unable to contain her excitement as she bounces on her feet, hands fisted. "Saheed, I cannot believe this!"
"You are welcome- "
She surprises me as she shoots into me like a bullet, hugging me tightly and stepping her feet like she is standing on hot coals. I allow myself to enjoy the contact and her elation. Without thinking, I rub a hand over her cornrowed hair.
"How can I ever repay you?" She asks, looking up at me. "Saheed, you are amazing."
Something in my heart shifts uncomfortably. I swallow and tear my gaze away from her brown eyes. Does she know the effect she has on me, right here, right now? Arms around me, head tilted upwards towards me, eyes on my face, happiness radiating from her and stirring my demons? And people are watching...
"It's nothing, really. No need for repayment."
"Who do we have here?"
We both turn to see my father, walking up to us. "I'm guessing you have both formed a partnership that yielded fruitful results."
We instantly separate, almost jumping away from each other like guilty children.
Ola greets my father and proceeds to boast about my marketing skills. She ends with, "You won't believe we sold almost everything, Sir- I mean, Khalif."
"I am happy to hear that. Will I be seeing you at the after party tonight?"
"I am not too sure," She replies.
"Come on, I promise it will be fun. There's a Salsa class before the party. Didn't we talk about your love for watching Salsa dancers move?" Baba says in a conspiratorial tone.
Ola gasps. "Khalif, that is too generous of you."
"I should be thanking you for that idea. It is surely going to make things more interesting, right, Saheed?"
"Right," I reply, baffled. So, that's where the inspiration came from, then? I thought it rather odd for Baba to add something so energetic, so exciting, to the program of events as it was very unlike him.
"Keep it up," he tells us before walking away.
"Your father has his moments," she tells me with a laugh.
"He does," I agree.
With Baba gone, I want her arms around me again. "I will have to leave now. The Fair is rounding up. You should be ready to leave, yes?"
She shrugs and rubs her hands over her jeans. "I have nothing more to sell, so yeah. I should be getting ready to leave."
"I hope you enjoy the after party."
"Won't you be there?" she asks, her brows coming together
Is that disappointment I hear in her voice? It pleases me. "I definitely will. We are major sponsors. We should enjoy the activities, too."
The smile that she gives me, makes my heart sing. It also makes me want to cover the distance between us. Ola, you should know how you affect me.
I give her a small wave as I back away from her. If something good has to come out from today, it's because of her.
A/N: It feels so good to update! This chapter was too long so I'll be posting a second half soon. I like the egungun video so i named this chapter after it (Thank you, TwitterNG lol).
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