Hey dear readers, you know how I love to keep y’all entertained, so I’m trying out this new idea to see if it works. The story is written by Dike Nsoedo, a friend and an excellent writer whom I’ve featured here before. His works have appeared on Naijastories, The Nukan Niche and The Naked Convos, to name a few. To read his story,please click on the image above and return to give your feedback here. Trust me, you’d enjoy it.
Thank you all!
Dear readers, I searched for the Episodes 1-3 of the series and found them on my former blog site that was on Blogger. Here are the links:
http://mimiadebayo.blogspot.com/2013/12/lookout-for-miss-right-1.html?m=1
http://mimiadebayo.blogspot.com/2013/12/lookout-for-miss-right-2.html?m=1
http://mimiadebayo.blogspot.com/2013/12/lookout-for-miss-right-3.html?m=1
Your comments are welcome as always.
*****
I began playing along, plastering a horrified look on my face to convince Sonia.
“Is she okay?” I asked Femi
“We are not sure. We think she had a heart attack. She needs you” He said
I turned to Sonia, a pleading look in my eyes. It was then I noticed she was still dressed in her half naked attire.
“I’m sorry, dear. But you understand how important this is, don’t you?” I asked in the most sincere voice I could muster.
From the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t happy with the new development, but at the same time she didn’t want to look like a witch. She folded her arms across her chest.
“I’ll go with you. If she’s that sick, you’ll need all the help you can get,” she said
I held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry… but I have to do this alone. I don’t want you to meet my mother like this.”
“But…but…” she stuttered
“We don’t have much time, please. We have to go now,” Femi interrupted
“I’m sorry” I said again. I didn’t know what I was apologising for, that I had to go? Or for lying to her?
I felt a small pang of guilt as I left her standing forlorn in the doorway.
Femi and I didn’t say a word to each other until we were out of her line of sight, then Femi started talking;
“Guy, you get lots of explaining to do. You know abi?” He was back to his less- serious self.
I nodded. “There’ll be time for that later. Now I just want to get out of here.”
“Who’s the babe? She’s hot! Did you see those boobs? So succulent…abeg wetin happen dere?” He was rambling on as we got to the parking lot.
“That was Odeniran’s daughter.” I replied. “Sonia”
“Serious?!” he exclaimed. “Guy, we have to talk. You must tell me what happened there.”
“I will see you guys this weekend and tell you everything. For now, I need to get home. I came with my car.”
“Okay. See you later then.” He patted my back lightly
“Femi…” I began. “Thanks for today. I really appreciate,” I said quietly.
He winked at me. “Don’t mention. What are friends for? Besides, it’s not every time I get to see you in scruples. It was fun watching you do like pikin under her eyes. That babe must be something,” he laughed as he saw the look on my face. “Go home, pal. See you tomorrow.”
We bade each other goodbye, and went our separate ways.
The drive home was risky because apart from being tired to the bones, I was damn sleepy. My eyelids were heavy. My brain refused to compute the events that had taken place that day, I just needed to shut down and get some quality rest.
By the time I got home, it was well past nine pm. I fell into bed after locking up.
The next thing I heard was my alarm ringing rudely. I almost flung my phone away, it seemed as though I had been asleep only a few minutes. I slowly dragged myself out of bed, did all the necessary things and got ready for work.
Ever since this Sonia saga began, I woke up expecting to have an eventful and unexpected day. Normal was no longer part of my routine. Today was no different, I went to work, wondering what awaited me, maybe another visit from Chief Odeniran .
Surprisingly, there were no strange occurrences at work. Everything seemed normal, and by the time I was closing from work, I was sure that my good karma was back. Maybe, just maybe Sonia was finally out of my life for good.
My friends and I were spending the weekend at Oscar’s. It felt good to be away from the tension of the Odenirans and just spend time with my favourite people.
Abigail opened the door for me when I got to Oscar’s house. She looked great in jeans and t- shirt. Her slim body fit well into the jeans. She smiled at me as I entered.
“You’re early” She said, ushering me inside. “I was just about leaving”
“Don’t mind me, just couldn’t wait to leave my house. Oscar is still at work?” I asked
“Yes. He’ll be back soon, hopefully,” she replied
For the first time, I noticed she looked a bit pale. Make- up had done a good job of hiding the paleness, though.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “You look a bit pale.”
She gave me a smile which resembled a real one, but somehow I knew it wasn’t. This wasn’t the same bubbling woman Oscar had introduced us to.
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” She said finally, “You must be hungry. Come into the kitchen while I fix something to eat”
I declined politely, although she was right about me being hungry.
“Oh…please. This is your home too. Stop forming for me jare. You think I don’t know how close y’all are? I actually like it.”
I didn’t need any more persuasion; I followed her to the kitchen. We talked as we fixed the meal. Everything seemed to be going well, until I suddenly heard her gasp in pain.
“Are you okay?” I asked, worry creeping into my voice
She nodded. “I’ll be fine; I just need to sit down a bit”
This time I didn’t believe her, I could see the pain which she tried to hide, etched in her face.
“Abbey, what’s wrong? I know everything isn’t fine,” I went over to her. “Do you want me to call Oscar?”
Her answer was instanteous, a vigorous shake of the head.
“You sure?” I asked
This time, I got no answer, because the next thing I knew she was lying on the floor in a dead faint.
To Be Continued…
Mimi .A ©2012
Confidential: The Goth Girl’s Diary: Is there no Band-aid for heartbreak?
You think you are recovering. You think things are looking up for you. You think you’re beginning to forget and you tell yourself that things are back to normal. You are back to normal.
Until you get that phone call; that unexpected SMS from the ex. Only, the Ex is just for show because they still very much own your heart. Your heart refuses to Ex-ile them even when your head and your lips do.
Your phone beeps and you see:
“I miss you.”
Your first instinct is to punch back a reply; like you used to before when his texts were what lightened your world.
And then you remember. You remember that things have changed; that you parted ways a few months ago. That you no longer have the liberty to spill how you feel.
It doesn’t stop the feelings from tumbling out; the memories you’ve been trying to bury by creating new ones, spill to the surface; raw as ever. Like it was only yesterday you said goodbye to the one you loved.
When will it stop hurting to think about him? When will you have the courage to look at his picture and not feel a pang of…something? Can these feelings die already!
But then again, how do you erase years of friendship, love, laughter, fights…memories? You wish they would disappear like they didn’t exist; and yet sometimes remembering those moments you shared is what keeps you sane.
You put up a smiling face for everyone so they don’t see how much it hurts inside, so they don’t think you’re weak. You make them see you’re happy without him. You don’t let them know that some nights you soak your pillows with tears of longing; that sometimes the short breaks you take in the toilet stall are actually timeouts to cry your heart out.
They say time heals all wounds but you’re beginning to think that some wounds never heal. No, you just get used them being there that at some point you become familiar with the pain it brings you.
You do not know if you want the wound of losing his love healed, or if you want to wrap the pain around you as a companion. Something to remind you that love is pain and that when you give all that you are to a particular someone, you never really get all of you back.
Your friends ask how you’re doing and you reply with the clichéd ‘fine’, your pain is yours to bear and not to share. You refuse to admit that when you remember him sometimes, you feel like an addict who’s going into withdrawal. How can you explain that there are times that the pain is so much that tears are a luxury?
Is there no Band-aid for heart break, you wonder? You know that heartbreaks have been overrated, every chick on the block claims to have been heartbroken because they like how it sounds when the words roll down their tongue but have they really? Have they felt like tearing out their hearts and squeezing to death every ounce of sentiment in it, just so that they can stop ‘feeling’ things? Have they?
Yours truly: Alone and heart wrenched; the ‘dark’ girl.
I have always been innocent. At least I believed myself to be so up until three hours ago. No, scratch that, the crack of my innocence started years ago, but even then I’d considered myself a victim of the evil that pervaded the world.
That is, up until three hours ago.
I hear the baby crying from somewhere distant. I’m immobile. I can’t move, in fact I’ve sat like this for close the past three hours.
The room is cramped and hot. My dress is soaked with sweat and something else. Blood. The room is sadly ventilated. The only source of fresh air is the four inch space in the wall called the window.
When we’d first moved here, I’d wondered what the landlord had thought while building the house; if it qualified to be called that.
All the while I’m sitting immobile; I avoid looking in that direction. I don’t want to see the evil I had just done that was beginning to reek in the stuffy room.
It’s 11pm on a Friday night and the compound seems to be empty. I’m betting everyone has gone to bed. Everyone except me.
Funny, he’ll never be going to anywhere ever again.
The reality of what I’ve done has just begun creeping in. All through the night, when I’d planned my escape, I‘d worked with a cold calculation I had no idea I was capable of.
Even when he’d walked into the room; staggering confidently like he always did, the fear hadn’t come then. I’d sat on the bed waiting patiently for him to come to me.
“Come say hi to me, sweetheart.”
I flinched. I hated when he called me that. I marvelled at his English. Impeccable as usual. Who would’ve ever suspected what a sick guy he was?
No one knew. Not the neighbours, although they could care less.
We had moved in here without any flourish, no grand entrance. Who would know what went on within the confines of this room?
“What is it my beauty?” He asked when I didn’t move. “Why you locked up in here in the dark?”
I stared at him. I was too busy calculating.
“Stupid girl! Come here!” He was rough now. Getting angry; which is what I wanted. I wanted him to come to me.
“ You dare disobey me! I will deal with you!” He lunged for me.
I’d anticipated this so I moved slightly and he crashed into the bed. Now I stood up. I watched him raise himself up in slow, painful movements.
“You’re possessed!” He screamed at me, coming at me again.
This time I revealed the knife. His eyes widened when he saw the glimmer, but it was too late. He couldn’t stop himself.
I plunged it into his chest. His scream was deafening. I watched his mouth form into an O as he collapsed on me.
“Cursed…child.” He sputtered, blood spilling from the knife wound.
I didn’t shed a single tear when he finally died. I didn’t cry even when the baby began crying. I only cried when I thought of all the things life had deprived me of. I only wished for one thing, that God had given me a voice of my own. Every night since I can remember I’d begged God for a miracle. Just one day to have a voice of my own, one day to be able to talk.
And I asked myself if indeed there was a God who let bad things happen to good people like me. I had my answer. Bad things always happened to good people, but good people sometimes needed to become bad to fix the bad things in their life.
I didn’t know what life held for me now. My brother had always catered for me since our parents died.
And he’d told me the only way to pay him back. In kind.
The tears pour down my face now and I suddenly realise I’m all alone in this world. Well, me and my baby, of course.
I’m suddenly transformed; morphed.
I’m a no longer just a handicapped person with a child; I’m also a killer.
I just killed my brother. The father of my child.
Written by Mimi Adebayo. Copyright 2013
The Hourglass 