--- At a time when the quiet around
had started to get to me, a call
from Richard was good escape. “Hello.” I cooed. “Hello, Fola.” “You just forget me, abi.” I said,
trying to hide my excitement. I
need to put up a tough front, I
reminded myself. “I’ve been busy lately.” “Busy?” I feigned seriousness. “Leave that thing jare.” Richard
protested playfully. “Are you
free this evening, 5:30pm?” “A date?” “A date?” Richard repeated
after me. “just the normal nah.”
I didn’t believe him. Beatrice,
my close friend, had called late
Thursday evening to tell me she
had seen Richard at Pearls and Gems, a posh jewelry shop in
Ikeja, checking out a collection
of wedding rings. Though I truly
needed an escape from the
tick-tock sound of the clock—
reminding me how big the house was and how alone I
was in it—still, I was not going to
fall easily to Richard’s coy. “You want to disturb my Sunday
evening, abi?” I questioned, my
voice mischievously high-
pitched and squeaky. “Is it
really important?” “Yes. Very important.” Very important. I like those
words, I thought. “Ok. I guess I
would be free.” I said. “Good. 5:30pm. New Olley
Restaurant.” “New Olley?” “Yeah. Anything wrong with it?” “No, nothing.” “Ok. We’ll meet there. Bye.” “Bye.” I said, dropping the
phone on the bed. I was a little
disappointed. There was
nothing ‘new’ or exciting about
New Olley. I felt Richard could
be more creative about something as serious as this,
romantic too. Well, all join; I sighed. Nothing
else, I could hardly wait to feel
the ring in my palm. * * * * * * * * * * I sat still like a frozen, naked
chicken as Richard
simultaneously drove the car
and conversed on the phone.
He turned and smiled
occasionally, and I tried to smile too—as much as I hate myself
for it, I had to. Richard needed
re-assurance that he had made
the right choice; too bad I was
the closest person to offer him
such. In those brief moments Richard looked at me, I was
brutally reminded of how
handsome he was: short bushy
eyebrow, long chiseled-like
nose and thin lips with a slight
shade of pink. I sighed as Richard pulled in
front of my father’s house. The
house and its loneliness that
almost made me insane earlier
in the evening had a special
appeal now: a safe haven from the pain every moment with
Richard had to offer. “Here we are,” Richard said.
Obviously, he had only put the
call he was making on-hold and
was itching to return to it. “thank
you for the evening,
Folashade.” I smiled as best as I could.
“You are welcome.” “Chinwe sends her regards
too.” Richard called out after I
had shut the car door. I simply
nodded and walked towards the
gate. It was a relief when
Richard drove off. Tears flowed as I rest my head
on the gate. I wished blood
flowed instead of tears. * * * * * * * * * About One Hour Earlier
New Olley Restaurant The atmosphere was serene
and cool—though it lacked the
essentials of my ideal marriage
proposal. “I guess it’s time to get to the
crux.” Richard said as he
reached to his pocket. I smiled
and my heart raced. Richard brought out a small
square-shaped box. He pushed
the lid open and within sat a
beautiful ring. “Is it beautiful?” “Yes.” I gasped. For the beauty
of the ring, I would gladly
forgive him, even if he was to
propose in a local canteen. Richard smiled and closed the
lid. My eyes trailed his moves
as he returned the box back to
his pocket. “I hope Chinwe would find it
beautiful too.” Richard said
almost shyly. “Chinwe” I echoed. “Don’t act surprised. I
mentioned her to you while I
was in America.” Yes, Richard had recently
returned from an eight-month
course abroad. Yes, he had
mentioned a lot of things,
Chinwe inclusive. But no, I
never took the Chinwe part seriously. “Chinwe—” Richard spoke on,
but I heard none of it. It all makes sense, I mused.
Thoughts I felt were best left
buried got free rein. Though
we’ve been very close since
undergraduate days, Richard
had never kissed me. He never asked for sex like most guys
would—something that made me
question his sexuality
sometimes; I always gave the
excuse that we were good
Christians, doing things the right way. When friends make
suggestive comments about us,
I would smile while Richard
would be quick to correct them.
“I wonder why people cannot
just get it that a guy and a girl can just be best friends.”
Richard would always tell me.
As I sat there, at our favourite
table in New Olley, I recalled
that Richard had never really
asked me for anything, except to be his friend—just friends. •The End• Is Up To You My Able
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