Episode 4

“Your comments and suggestions would be very welcome. I love you! God bless you!”
BOLADE DROPPED HIS bag on the rug and sank into the settee. Words couldn’t express how he was feeling. He literarily didn’t know how he got home. All he thought about on his way home was Salewa. The feelings cruising through him were strange but welcome. He wished school hours were longer or that Salewa was his next door
neighbour. He just wanted to be with her.
He remembered how she had cried when she started pouring her heart out to
him a few hours back. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, not once, except when he needed to give her his face towel. He had seen every tear escape her eyes, seen every twitch of her face, and heard every word of her mouth.
As he recalled some of those moments, he wanted to cry. The girl was in so
much pain. Bolade had his own fair share of pain; living without a father wasn’t anything but pain. But at least he had a mother that loved and adored him. He wished he could just tap his fingers and all Salewa’s fears and sorrows would vanish. But he couldn’t.
An idea just popped into his head and he smiled. We have a landline at home.
Why don’t I call Salewa. We could talk all evening. It was then he remembered he didn’t even ask her for her number.
“Silly me. How could I have missed that!” Bolade said, as he reached for the telephone. And God can just reveal to me Salewa’s phone number o! Abi God! Can’t you?
Bolade smiled. He was clearly beside himself. As he was fiddling with the
buttons, he remembered a number he had memorized recently. He tried to put the
number to a face. It was then it occurred to him that he got the number memorized at the camp he attended. A youth minister had come to give them a talk he titled, Laws of Attraction.
Bolade had enjoyed the talk. The campers had their fill of laughter that day.
Bolade hadn’t asked any questions but many others did and the minister, a young man, had been very understanding of their plight and witty in his responses.
At the end of his session, he had dictated his number to the attendees. Bolade had been too shy to write it down because he didn’t want people around thinking he had girl problems.
Bolade laughed. Now, he indeed had a girl problem; a Salewa problem. He
was thankful that he had memorized the number. So, as he recalled it, he punched the buttons and then put the receiver to his ear and waited.
“Hello”, a deep voice said after five rings; the voice had a smile to it.
“Good afternoon sir”
“Good afternoon. Please who am I speaking with?”
“I am Bolade. You don’t know me sir. I was in a camp over the holidays
when you talked about Laws of attraction”
“Oh! I see. Is it the one that was held at International School, Ibadan?”
“Yes sir.”
“Lovely.”
There was a pause, and Bolade didn’t know how to get the question out of
his mouth. He felt very silly asking. He wondered if to cut the line before he said anything stupid. Just then, the man spoke up.
“So, how may I be of help to you?”
“What I want to say may sound funny and…”
The man caught in. “Don’t worry. It’s between both of us. Feel free to sound
funny”
Bolade could hear the smile in the man’s voice and that gave him some
boost.
“I think I have fallen in love with a girl”, Bolade blurted out so fast, he could hardly hear himself. Then all he heard was laughter on the other end of the line.
I have just made a fool of myself
“Bolade, right?” the man asked.
“Yes, sir. Bolade”
“Good. Please could you say it again? Slowly this time.”
Bolade was sure the man was getting a kick out of this. He was going to
indulge him this once. “Sir, I think I…”
The door to the house swung open and Bolade’s mum walked in. He hadn’t
even heard the sound of the car. He had come home himself because his mum had
said she had a meeting at Premiere Hotel that she thought would end late. It definitely ended sooner than she had envisaged.
His words were stuck in his mouth. He covered the mouth piece of the receiver with his palm and nodded. “Welcome mummy!”
She gave him a curious smile and just stared at him. He could tell what she
was thinking. It was unlike him to be on the phone immediately after school, still in his uniform, with his bag at his feet. Moreso, he could tell she could see the uneasiness written all over him.
“Hello!” the man at the other end was saying. Bolade could tell he was a very
patient man.
Bolade waved at his mother, asking her to leave. Rather, she decided to sit on
the sofa facing him, the smile not leaving her face.
I’m in trouble!
“Hello”, Bolade said, after removing his hand from the mouthpiece. “I have a
problem here”
“What’s that?”
“My mum just walked in and she has refused to go. She is sitting right in
front of me.”
Bolade giggled as he heard the man laugh even harder this time.
“What do you suggest I do to get rid of her?” he said, smiling at his mother,
who was enjoying the show.
“Maybe you blow her a kiss that would make her disappear”, the man said.
Bolade wondered how such a busy youth minister would have time for little
chit chats like this with a counselee he was speaking with for the first time.
“Mum, he said I should blow you a kiss that would make you disappear.”
Bolade said, not caring to cover the mouth piece this time.
“So, what are you waiting for?” she said.
Bolade couldn’t believe his mother was playing along. He put his fingers to
his lips, kissed them, rather loudly, for the pleasure of his counselor on the phone, and then blew it her way.
His mother instantly picked her bag and literarily skipped off to her room.
Bolade laughed, his ribs ached; he had the best mother in the world.
“What was that about?” the man asked.
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. My mum just acted the role perfectly.”
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“You are blessed to have such a mother.”
“I couldn’t agree less.”
“Back to our gist” the man said.
Bolade however had a question to ask. “Are you always this nice and
available?”
“Nice, yes. Available, no. You called me at a good time.”
“Ok, sir.” Bolade felt more comfortable with the man and felt himself relaxing. “I think I have fallen in love with a girl”
Just then, his mother peeked from her room and she was grinning from tooth
to tooth. She had heard him. “I thought you were supposed to disappear?” Bolade
said, smiling.
“Pardon?”
“Oh, not you sir. My mother was eavesdropping.” The man giggled.
“It would be a pleasure to meet your mum. I wish all mothers could be like
her.”
“True.”
There was another pause and the words of the youth minister sent Bolade into fantasy world. He wondered what it would be like for the youth minister to marry his mother. But isn’t mummy older than him? And there’s Dr Solomon already. Forget it Bolade!
“Why not tell me about this girl you like?” the man said, bringing them back
to the present.
“Her name is Salewa!” Bolade said, and a smile spread all across his face.
“Nice name. Tell me how Salewa captured your heart.”
Bolade reclined on the sofa, the receiver to his ear and he told the youth minister all about Salewa.
IT WAS DARK outside. Salewa had been sitting at the back of the house, close to the laundry tap for over three hours.
She had taken public transport for first time since resuming at Hilltop
College three weeks back. Her parents’ conversation she had overheard had assured her that if her mother wanted to keep her marriage, she would do everything to please him, even if it meant abandoning Salewa. Not coming to pick her from school was the first guaranteed move. And Salewa wasn’t disappointed. Her mother had already made her choice.
She got home tired and feeling so sticky. She had met both parents at home.
She was surprised but guessed they called in sick at their offices and didn’t have to go to work. They were quick to lies. She had heard them tell countless lies over the phone at different times.
She made a deliberate effort, though hard, to go on both knees to greet them
before proceeding to her room. Only her mother replied. Salewa didn’t care. Her
heart was already hardening towards them. She got into her room, had a long and cold bath and then proceeded to wash her unmentionables. Those were the only things the washer-woman never washed for her.
She went to the laundry tap and did her washing. When done, she felt no
need to go back in, so she stayed outside. She had started her thinking spree again and it seemed it would not end.
Three hours after, she was still lost in thoughts. Her top was considerably
soaked already with the steady flow of tears that had made its descent down her face to her dress.
She wasn’t surprised that even though it was past seven, her parents hadn’t
come looking for her. What did I do to deserve this? I didn’t beg to be born against my father’s wishes. I knew nothing about the thing for which I am suffering so. Her crying became sobs and she just couldn’t stop the sorrow that engulfed her again.
When her sobs subsided, she remembered her conversation with Bolade and
a tiny light was kindled in the darkness of her soul. But it soon died off.
But if this God Bolade talked about is half of what He is, then I shouldn’t be suffering like this! Where is God in all of this? Can’t He do something about this and make my dad change his mind! Isn’t He the Almighty God who they say can do all things?
She was getting so upset with God that she decided He wasn’t worth her
thinking time. She decided to turn her thoughts towards the only person that made her smile in the whole day.
Even if Bolade believed in this God, who seemed either powerless or callous,
at least Bolade had a heart and he seemed to genuinely care for her. That was something she could think about for the rest of the night.
With Bolade on her mind, she made her way back into the house. As she
walked in, she saw her parents, for the first time in her life, sitting together at table and eating from the same plate. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She felt elated and wanted to smile, laugh, jump on her mother or do something to express the joy she felt but one look at her father and all the joy disappeared.
She felt like a washing machine on drain; all the joy that bubbled in her
drained off almost immediately. It was then it hit her like a blow right to her stomach.
Dad isn’t angry with mummy again just because she has abandoned me. As far as I am not in the equation, dad would be happy with mum and all will be well.
It was more than Salewa could bear. She rushed to her room, unwilling to
spill tears in front of the two lovers. She was sure her dad would be happy if she disappeared or died off.
Salewa felt so lost and unwanted. Her brothers hardly called home, so she
didn’t have them to confide in. She cuddled up on her bed and hugged her pillow tight. As she cried, hoping to sleep off, she couldn’t wait for morning to come. She wanted to be out of the house. She wanted to be back in school. She wanted to see Bolade again.
Seeing Bolade again was the only reason she wanted to see the next day. Her
joy now depended on him. She turned and felt her hand brush against something soft.
She opened her eyes and looked down at her hand. It was a face towel. She
smiled through her tears. She used the towel to wipe her face as she had done hours earlier in school. She didn’t know she had brought it home. The fragrance coming from the face towel was soothing as it was his fragrance.
She drifted off to sleep with his face itched on the curves of her heart. Bolade,
my knight!

To be continued

The tears now trickled down Salewa’s face and she let them fall. “Next thing
I saw; he hissed and walked out on my mum and me. I heard his car start and soon, he was out of the compound. Off to


To be continued

“My pleasure” Bolade said and waited for her to sit before he took his seat.
They were sitting adjacent to each other but the class was so large there was ample space between two seats. It helped in times of tests and examinations.
As he sat down, he could feel the stares from classmates and knew they were bound to start up a gist before the end of the day. He had never entered their gisting topics because he had always stayed out of their reach especially when it came to girls.
But this time was different and he really didn’t care if they talked about him, because somewhere within him he knew he was doing what was right. He was a knight in shining armour helping a damsel in distress.
MANY STUDENTS SAT on opposite sides of the Basketball Court. It was the space
designated for students to sit when waiting for their parents after school. It was close to the car park and was open enough for monitoring. At a corner, not too far away, to avoid suspicion from staff and not too close to others to avoid eavesdroppers were Bolade and Salewa.
Salewa wondered how much she should tell him. She didn’t want to scare
him off with too many details; neither did she want him pitying her when she was done. She would have to pick her words carefully.
“Ready?” Salewa asked, knowing Bolade understood what she meant. He nodded.
“What made me cry this morning as made me crying several times in my closet but not in public. I guess I was just overwhelmed.”
She looked at him and saw he was listening. She lowered her gaze and stared at her palms. She was still in control of herself and the prim and proper girl she always was outside. She feared she would tear up immediately she started pouring out the details. She had promised however and she had to finish what she had started.
Salewa, why did you lose control this morning? See what you’ve caused! She didn’t like the fact that she had to tell Bolade the things she was about to. She wished she didn’t have to.
She looked at him again. “Do I have to tell you?”
Bolade thought a while. “Not if you don’t want to.”
His answer disarmed her. He wasn’t trying to be nosy; he just wanted to help.
She sighed and lowered her head. “I feel like trash. I feel like a piece of dirt that nobody wants.” Salewa felt silly saying those words. They were words she spoke to herself everyday but it was the first time in her life that she had made anyone see how low she thought of herself.
She didn’t bother looking up to know if Bolade was listening to her or not. If
he was listening, good for him; he wouldn’t bother trying to remain friends with an unwanted girl like her. If he wasn’t listening, good for her; she would still have some self dignity afterwards.
She continued.
“My parents are sworn enemies. I have known them to be at each other’s
necks since the day I knew how to spell my name. They shout at each other, insult themselves, slam doors, break things, and at times, even fight physically; mummy taking more of the blows.”
Salewa could feel the tears building up. She bit her lips and paused, hoping to control them. She succeeded.
“My brothers have escaped to school, leaving me alone to suffer the
emotional trauma of seeing the two people I love most in this world tear themselves apart ever so often. What baffles me most is that whenever they are in this foul mood, they don’t seem to remember I am there. It is like I immediately become invisible. At such times, I go into my room.
“Initially, I used to cry for hours while they fought. As I grew older, I noticed what my brothers used to do and I copied it and I discovered that it helped a bit. I would either turn on the TV in the room or plug my earphones, drowning off their
voices. I have endured all these years but I made the mistake of my life yesterday.”
At that Salewa looked up, with glistering eyes, and saw Bolade’s eyes were fixated on her. She didn’t know if to be happy about that or not but it was enough encouragement for her to go on.
“My parents were arguing again yesterday morning. I was about to slip out of the house and go wait for mummy in the car when a thought stopped me in my tracks. Why not talk to them for a change? Before I could think myself out of it, I spoke out.
“I cannot remember all I said but I was crying and the words were pouring
from my heart. I begged them to forgive each other and make peace if just for the sake of their children. When I was done, still crying, I looked up at my parents. My mum was crying but I couldn’t decipher the look on my dad’s face. He seemed rather angry.”

Episode 3
Ibadan. October 2000
THE TERM WAS in its third week. It was Tuesday morning and Bolade had to hurry. He hated still having his schoolbag with him at the assembly ground. He preferred getting early enough to school to drop it in his class and settle down before going to the front of the Administrative block for assembly. He forgot his wristwatch at home so he had no clue what the time was, but telling from the time he left home and how traffic had been, he would be very fortunate if the bell hadn’t gone already.
Reaching the school gate and jogging in, he peeped at the wall clock at the
security stand. He had made it by barely two minutes. He could still finish up. He picked up his pace and headed for his class. He had just jumped the flight of stairs to his floor when he heard the bell. He entered his class and swung his bag onto the first seat and turned to leave when he heard someone sobbing.
The sound reminded him of the times he had heard such sounds from his
mother’s room, years back when she had a depression-fit. That was when her
grandmother, who took care of her during pregnancy, died suddenly. Then, Bolade had been so scared whenever he looked at his mother. It seemed she was ready and willing to kill herself if she had to. Her eyes were perpetually swollen and dark on the rims. Bolade was glad those days were far behind them now. Now, his mother was
hoping to get married and the glee she felt was palpable in the house.
Bolade looked back into the class and saw it was Salewa but he couldn’t see
her face. He walked towards her seat and stood there. She didn’t notice. He didn’t have much time. What should I do? He couldn’t pretend as if he hadn’t seen her but he didn’t want to be punished for being late for the assembly.
“Salewa.” He said softly.
No response.
He touched her hand lightly. She jumped and looked up at him. Her eyes
were red and swollen. Bolade felt awkward. He had never seen any girl in this state before. He didn’t even have words to say. His eyes spoke what his lips couldn’t. They were wide open.
Then, she lowered her eyes, not out of embarrassment, Bolade noticed, but to let fresh tears run down.
“Guess you can’t make the assembly this morning?” That was all Bolade could manage to say. He felt silly he couldn’t say more but was glad he could say something at all.
She shook her head.
“Ok. I’ll talk to you after. I have to go now.” With that, he dashed out of the
class, jumped down the stairs again and started towards the Administrative block. He could see other students jogging towards the same place, from different locations.
Bolade could think of nothing else than his friend and the state he had left
her. In the past three weeks of school, they had talked briefly at different times, shared notes and he had had cause to explain one or two things to her; nothing more.
Bolade had noticed that even Victor had not talked at length with Salewa, busy with other girls as usual.
What is eating that girl up? What would make her start her day in tears? Bolade had watched films where he saw girls cry as if they were crying machines; manufactured to shed tears. He had felt the movie producers were very unrealistic but now he truly wondered. He would wait until he spoke with her when he returned to the class to know what the problem was.
But that in itself was a challenge. He hated sticking his nose in other people’s matters. How was he supposed to ask her? Would she even answer him? Bolade kept turning these questions in his mind, seeking answers until he heard, “The National Anthem!” He was surprised. Thirty minutes of assembly had gone without him
hearing a single word of all that had been spoken.
He looked up at the National Flag, swaying with the wind, and almost
immediately, it fell to its side and leaned so tight against the pole holding it up when the wind ceased. That sudden contrast from lively to dull reminded him of Salewa. He tried to put two images together; the first day he had met her and she had handled Victor quite well, and now what she looked like a couple of meters away in their class.
The pictures didn’t fit. Whatever was ailing that young woman, Bolade wouldn’t rest until he found it out.
IT WAS SHORT-BREAK and Salewa could sense the struggle with Bolade. He wanted to talk with her but possibly didn’t know what to say or didn’t know if she wanted him to say anything. She couldn’t blame him. She smiled when she remembered what
happened immediately after assembly.
Bolade had walked in with a couple of students trailing him. The look on his
face when he saw her was one of shock. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She looked so normal; bright in fact. She was sure she had succeeded in confusing the boy. Shortly after he had left for assembly, she had managed to put herself together.
She stopped crying.
Then, she reached for her cosmetics bag and went to the toilet, which
fortunately had mirrors. She took her time in putting her face, especially her eyes back in order. When she was done, she was impressed with herself. Bolade’s look when he was back was her final satisfaction that she was good.
She didn’t know what got to her in the morning. She had grown used to
masking her feelings in public. She only cried in the confines of her room. But today, she had been really carried away and had lost touch with time when she felt a hand touch her. She had been relieved that it was Bolade and not some other flippant boy.
Seeing his shock had brought a fresh wave of tears. She wondered why she had to suffer the things she was going through.
She looked to her right, at Bolade, and saw he was still looking at her, as
discreetly as wouldn’t arouse attention from classmates. She decided to help him. She knew he wanted to reach her and help her with her hurts but he was now staring at someone who seemed perfectly okay. She felt his confusion.
She stood and took two steps towards him, and noticed he was standing too.
She knew what he was trying to say. I’m the one to be walking to you not you me. “Thank you for this morning” she said.
“I did nothing.” Bolade responded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.”
“No probs. I’m fine now.”
“You sure?”
“Yes”, she said, with her practiced smile.
Bolade looked away, paused, and then said, “Why do I think you are lying to
me?”
“You should ask yourself.” Salewa said, trying to make light of it but saw
Bolade wasn’t smiling and that got at her. He was serious.
“I cannot forget in a hurry the look on your face this morning. That was no
joke, Salewa”, Bolade started, saying above a whisper. “Please know that you can trust me. You can talk to me.”
Salewa didn’t say anything then, but noticed that some eyes were beginning to
rest on them. “Can we talk immediately after school today?”
“But your mum- ”
“She won’t be coming for me today.”
“Why?” Bolade asked, genuine concern written all over his face.
“She has an appointment at that time.” Salewa lied but felt there was no need
to spill all the beans.
“Okay. Talk to you then.”
“Thanks” Salewa said, sincerely glad someone cared to listen

Episode 2
Ibadan. September 2000

“SALEWA!”

Bolade turned. He saw a slim girl in mufti turning and walking towards the
woman that called her. Bolade assumed the woman was the girl’s mother. The girl was obviously a transfer student. They had such every year in his school. He wondered how many they would be this year.

He turned and walked towards the Academic Block. He had enjoyed the long
vacation but he had been so bored towards the end that he had longed to be back in school and he was glad he was. He greeted several students and staff as he walked on.

He was proud of his school and so were most of the other students.

Hilltop College was known for many positive things, especially the academic
excellence and sound discipline the school stood for. Though located in the heart of Ibadan, many brought their wards from far and near to enjoy the quality of education offered there.
Bolade climbed the stairs leading to his former class, SS2A. When he got to
the door of the class, he looked at the new inscription on the lintel. SS3A. He smiled.
He was getting close to becoming a high school graduate. He walked in and
discovered there was only one other bag in the class. He was early. That was good as it afforded him the opportunity to make the best choice of seat for the term.

I always envied Victor’s proximity to both the window and the board last term. His seat should do. Bolade walked over to the seat he had in mind and brought out his
handkerchief. He would momentarily convert it to a duster. Both table and chair were covered in dust and cobwebs. The cleaners had probably overlooked them and focused on cleaning the classroom floor.

Bolade was soon done with the cleaning and started unpacking his books.

“Not so fast man!”
Bolade knew that voice anywhere. He smiled as he turned and looked up at
the approaching boy. “Hey! My man!” The two boys hugged each other.
“You want to steal my seat?”

“Guilty!” Bolade said, hands raised.
“Guess you have earned it by coming early.”
“You serious?” Bolade questioned. That was very unlike his friend.
“Yes. No qualms.”

“Thanks Victor.” Bolade said, and then suddenly realized they were not alone. He looked at the figure standing at the door. It was the new girl he had seen earlier. Victor had followed his gazeand was looking at her too.

“Hi” she said.
“Hi”, they answered.

“I was told to come here.”

“This is SS3” Victor said politely, echoing Bolade’s thoughts. The girl looked like she belonged in JS3. She wasn’t short or smallish. She just had a baby-face.

The girl smiled, most likely familiar with such comments. “I know. I am in
SS3.” She said, stressing her words. She walked in and Bolade noticed she was trying to take in the setting of her new class.

“Forgive me for my misjudgment.” Victor said.
“It’s okay.”
“Let me help you with your seat”, Victor said, taking Bolade’s handkerchief from his friend’s table.

Bolade wasn’t so interested in being a good host. He would have been
obliged to do so had she met him alone in the class but he was thankful Victor was around. As he unpacked his books, he tried to remember the name the girl’s mother had called her at the car park but he couldn’t remember it.

He looked at Victor, trying to settle the girl in, and he smiled. His friend had a soft spot for fine girls. He wondered why Victor hadn’t asked the girl for her name.

Maybe he had forgotten.

“What’s your name?” Victor asked on cue.
Bolade smiled. He knew his friend way too much. He stopped momentarily
to watch the duo. Bolade wanted to see Victor do his girl-magic again.

“Salewa” the girl replied.

“Salewa”, Victor repeated, moving his lips as if tasting the name. “Such a
sweet name.”

“Thanks” the girl said but Bolade noticed she didn’t seem so affected by
Victor’s flattery.

“I’m Victor.”
She simply nodded.

Bolade was about returning to his business but not before the Salewa girl
turned and faced him.

“You’ve not told me your name?”
He was so taken aback he couldn’t speak at first. His eyes went to Victor and
then back to Salewa. What surprised him was that someone would put Victor on hold to talk to him. It had never happened in his five years of being Victor’s friend. Girls never knew he existed when they talked with Victor even if he was standing right next to him.

Bolade could see the flicker in Victor’s eyes.
“Your name please?” Salewa seemed to be reminding him.
“Bolade.”

“Guess you already know my name?” she asked rhetorically and Bolade nodded. “Would you mind if I sit next to you?”

Now Bolade was embarrassed. If he were white, his face would be all red. He
was at a loss for words but his friend definitely wasn’t.
“But I just cleaned this chair and table for you” Victor said, not losing his charm.

“A gentleman like you would be able to help me clean the ones right next to
Bolade, won’t he?” Salewa replied, with just as much charm and Bolade couldn’t help smiling.
“Then, I would take the seat to your left.” Victor said, not giving up.
“That would be nice”, she replied.

As Victor started cleaning the chair and table Salewa wanted, Bolade looked
at Salewa and saw she was trying to suppress a smile. She knew how to handle the big boys. Bolade giggled. He had a feeling that the three of them were going to play crucial roles in each other’s lives. He would let time unveil the drama.
THE DINING ROOM was unusually tense. No one said anything for a long time. The
clicking sounds the cutlery made, touching the plate, grated on Bolade’s nerves but he preferred that to having to say anything. He knew he couldn’t do that for long however. He was bound to talk soon.


“I’ve said I’m sorry for picking you up late. Why are you so quiet?” His
mother had been trying to get him to talk ever since they arrived back at home but he had refused to say anything. He had been worried sick for her when she hadn’t come to pick him; he had had to fight off several negative thoughts. He had been so relieved when he saw her car drive into the school car park; he had no more
emotional energy to respond to her lateness.

“I’m not upset with you mum”, he finally said. “I just had a stressful day.” He looked up after that for the first time since dinner began and saw the relief on his mother’s face. As she ate her meal, jollof sphagetti, the meal she had made hoping to appease him, he saw something that got him worried. His mother was ageing.

She was still in her early thirties but her frown lines were deepening and
Bolade knew exactly why. She had brought him up single handedly as a single mother, a full-time job she had to combine with her demanding job. He loved her and
appreciated her. He wished he could do more to ease her pain but he knew the best he could do was love her and make her feel appreciated.

“I love you mum”, he said suddenly.

His mum looked at him, and with glistening eyes, responded. “I love you too son.” As she said that, her face twitched in the way it usually did when she was about to cry. Bolade dropped his cutlery, eased out of his chair and walked across the table.
He wrapped his mother in his arms and then she began crying.
He understood her well enough to know he didn’t need to say anything. He
just needed to hold her in his arms; that was all the comfort she needed.

Miss T. Benson, as she was fondly called, was his mother and he was proud
of her anyday. He felt uncomfortable many times when people looked funny at her whenever she was called ‘Miss’ and they saw she had a grown up son. Their faces
always portrayed their unspoken thoughts.
There was a question he had been meaning to ask his mum for many years
now. The last time he remembered asking her was when he was five, about ten years back and she had shushed him then. Now, he felt he was going to try again but he
was going to wait until he was sure she was fine before he asked her.

It took longer than Bolade expected for his mother to get over whatever
made her cry but she finally did. Then, he sat on her lap and hugged her again, a gesture he usually did, not because he wanted to but because he wanted her to always know that no matter how old he got, he would always be her baby.
“Mum, I want to ask you a question. Please I need an answer tonight.”

He couldn’t see her facial expression but the stiffening of her muscles made
him know she was not too eager to hear any emotion-demanding question. He would
have let it be had it been another day but not today; not on a day his mother looked like she was sad and tired of life.

“When are you going to get married?” Bolade said, sounding serious. He
waited for a response but knew he would have to be patient on this one. It was going to take an effort to get his mother talking. It was a forbidden topic; at least, until a few seconds back. He was going to wait.

He refrained from the hug when she sighed. She must have thought things
through and was ready to answer him. He stood up and walked back to his seat,
giving her room to breathe and think of how best to answer. He tried not to preempt her response.
She looked at him and studied his face. It was either she was trying to see
into his reason for asking or she was wondering if he was ready for her answer.

“Are you ready for me to get married?” She was throwing the question back

at him. It was then it occurred to Bolade for the first time in his life that he was the reason she hadn’t married. Now, that got him puzzled.

“Has it been because of me?” he asked, knowing she understood what he meant.

She nodded. “I never wanted you to feel unloved or insecure, so I dedicated
my youthful life to loving and caring for you, deciding I would give marriage a try when you were old enough to know that my marrying a man would never affect my
love for you in any way.”

Bolade was thoughtful. “And you think I haven’t matured that well enough

now for you to move on with your life?”
“I wasn’t sure before now, but I guess now I know”. She smiled but Bolade

saw beyond the smile. It was a sad smile; a smile that spoke volumes. His mother obviously regretted the fact that she had become a mother way too early. She had traded a large chunk of her life in the process; time and opportunities she could never recover. The pregnancy and birth had almost ruined her academics if not for her grandmother, his great-grandmother, who had helped. Bolade had heard the story of how it all happened. His mother had sat him down on his tenth birthday and told him that what
she was about to tell him, she would never repeat; he was going to hear it only once.

He knew his mother didn’t play with her words. He paid rapt attention. It was then she had told him how she had gotten pregnant for her school teacher when she was in her final class in school, and just sixteen years old.

She told the story amidst tears and sobs. Bolade cried too as he listened. It had been a defining moment in his life. He wished his mother hadn’t gone through all she did; but he wondered if he would have come about otherwise.
He decided to forget the past and think on the present. He had been seeing
his mother in recent times talk on the phone for several minutes at different times and he kept hearing her mention a name. He was going to hit the nail on the head.

“You like Dr. Solomon. Don’t you?”

He smiled at her reaction. She actually blushed. She was embarrassed; she
looked like a child. It dawned harder on him all his mother had sacrificed for him. She had a heart and she also needed to be loved by a man. He hadn’t meant to deprive her of that but he had unwittingly done so. He wasn’t going to allow that continue one more day.

“How come you know his name?” Miss Benson asked her son, the look not leaving her face.

“I hear your several phone conversations mum.”
She nodded, now smiling.

“So you like him?”

“Yes, I do.” She finally said.
Bolade was going to act as fast as he possibly could. He wanted his mother to
be happy. “Can he come over for dinner on Saturday?”

He saw his question caught his mother off guard. She just stared at him, a
smile playing across her lips. “Mum?” he prodded.
“I would love that.”

“And so would I.” Bolade said, and saw tears well up in his mother’s eyes.

“Come here”, she said, extending her arms and Bolade willingly walked into
them as he sat on her lap again. “Thank you”, she said.

“Please don’t thank me. Thank you, mum.” He hugged her tighter. “Thank you!”

SALEWA PUT HER carefully manicured fingers deep into her ears. Not today. She wasn’t going to hear any of it. Her parents were at it again and this one looked like the type that usually lasted over an hour. Several minutes of angry words, hot tears and sometimes hard knocks at each other. There was no NEPA supply for her to drown off their voices with the TV in her room and her MP3 battery was out. Her fingers in her ears seemed the best remedy.

She had suffered and endured their regular barrage right from the day she
knew her name. She wondered if it would ever end. They did not seem like people
who were tired of their constant bickering. They seemed rather eager to start new quarrels.
Salewa wondered why they had married each other in the first place. She was
the last of three and the only girl. Her elder twin brothers were both in the University of Port Harcourt. She had been surprised when they filled UNIPORT in their JAMB form. They had said then, three years prior, that it was because that university had the best facilities for their course; Electrical Electronics.

She had believed them then but it was on later thoughts that she knew the
reason why they had chosen UNIPORT. She had smiled that day as it dawn on her.

They were hoping to be as far away as possible from their parents and their everyday fights. In their over two years of being in the university, they had only visited home once, and that was during the Christmas season of their first session in school. They didn’t even bother coming home for the last Christmas. She had been home alone
with her parents. The Christmas cakes and chicken had tasted so bland.

Now in September, their quarrels had found a new twist. Her father was upset with her mother for changing Salewa’s school without his approval.
She insisted she had told him about the move and he insisted he never gave his consent.

Salewa was tired. They were going to make exactly the same statements in a hundred and one ways until several minutes flew past. Most times, they stopped with their tirades only when one party was too tired to speak, or when one of them received a very long
phone call or when a guest knocked on their gate. It was simply appalling.

When her brothers went to school and left her at home, she had been happy
initially. There was no one to insist on watching Super Sports when she wanted to watch Disney or AMagic. She didn’t have two stuffed up egos asking her to wash
their plates or cook their food. She had thought she was free.

Now, she wished they were around. At least she would have people to talk
with. She envied them and couldn’t wait to be out of secondary school. Salewa sighed.

That was still going to be a long while. She had just started SS3. The seven months to WAEC seemed like an eternity. She would have to endure.
At the thought of school, she remembered how her day had gone. She smiled as she recalled her conversation with Victor and Bolade. Living with boys all her life had given her an edge. She could easily read them as if reading a book, and she knew how to handle the big boys. She had used her brothers for practice. She could put any
guy in his place if he began feeling too macho.
She had known Victor’s type immediately. He was the girl-chaser, but also intelligent; a combination many girls found irresistible. Such a boy would almost always be in the top three in his class, and would date at least one girl per session.

Boys like Victor didn’t double or triple date, they took their time with their dates but were bound to move to another catch with the start of a new session. Girls felt proud to say of such guys, I am his ex because only three or four girls out of the hundreds in the school would be able to say that.
Salewa shook her head in disgust. How sick. She wondered if some girls
suffered from brain disorders. She wondered why a girl would stoop that low to date a guy she knew would tire of her in a year, at the most; if not earlier. She indeed wondered.

Bolade, on the other hand, seemed the type she called Mummy’s boy. He was
the intelligent type, who was also a big boy but was a good big boy. He rolled with the mighty but didn’t do all they did. Such boys didn’t condemn what their friends did, because though they didn’t do the bad stuffs, they would have loved to do them. They were most likely either under close supervision of parents or loved their parents too much to dent their family’s image with any scandal in school.

The day had gone by so fast. Shortly after she met them, the bell went for
assembly which took a very long time. Salewa had had to ask a girl beside her if the assembly was usually that long but had been told it was because it was the first day of the new session. She had heaved a sigh of relief. She wasn’t a fan of standing for long.

After the assembly, they had classes immediately. During the short break, she
was busy drawing the diagrams the Mathematics teacher had drawn for them on the board. He had revised Set Theory with the class. Salewa hated Mathematics with a passion. She had managed to get a C in her JSSCE and that was because she read and studied hard for it. Her best only produced a C.

She wanted to be an Accountant however, so she knew something definite
had to happen when it came to Mathematics. I need a miracle. She remembered glancing at Victor and Bolade during the Mathematics class and saw how much they were enjoying the sums. Maybe they would help her. She would consider talking to them about it if they became good friends eventually.

After the break, they had had more classes, then extra-curricular activities.
Before Salewa could rest a while, the bell went for closing and she knew she had to carry her bag and run downstairs immediately. Her mother would be waiting. And so
she was when Salewa got to the car park.
She hoped the remaining days of the week in school wouldn’t be that busy.
She needed space to be able to properly take-in the sights and settings of her new school.
As she was about lying down to sleep, she noticed she wasn’t hearing her
parents’ voices anymore. She was relieved. At least she could sleep in quiet. Just then, she heard a crash. She jumped. It seemed some glassware fell.

“Just to get me a cup of water is your problem eh! You had to break the
cup!” she heard her father shout.
“Why are you screaming like a woman? Calm down!” her mother replied.
“Me? Woman?” her father retorted and she could literarily, right from her
room, feel the venom rise up in his chest.
They have started again. Salewa lay down back and covered her head with her
pillow. She had to sleep. She would leave the two to their bed-time hobby.

To be continued

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Lagos. September 2010

THE ONLY SOUNDS that could be heard were the soft ticking of the wall clock and the occasional sighs that exuded from the lips of the young man that lay on the bed in the center of a posh bedroom. He had taken his time to furnish his house to taste.

He had contracted his furnishing to Interiors, the world-class interior designer company located in Victoria Island, Lagos. He had taste and could well afford the expenses.

Bolade, staring blankly at his exquisite ceiling, had woken up rather earlier than normal. It was just past three in the morning; about two hours earlier than he usually got up. He tried to remember what it was he had dreamt about that had bolted him back to reality. He had tried for the past five minutes to recollect his dream. His attempts had been futile.

He turned on his side and was about giving up when the images flashed back
into his mind and just as fast, his heart responded. His heart literarily slammed against his chest. He sat up, more alive than he had been in the past ten years of his life.

He had seen her in his sleep and it had felt as real as it did at the moment.

Bolade wished with all his heart that it had been more than a dream but he knew it was a dream and that was the best it would ever be. He had seen Salewa again. She had looked just as beautiful as he remembered her being but she looked older and even more breath-taking.

God, why are you teasing me? Bolade knew it was a dream too good to be true.

He hadn’t spoken with Salewa for ten years. He had thought of her several times over the years but there was something different about the feelings cruising through him this morning. He wanted to cry. He missed her. He would gladly trade all he had acquired in the past four years of his life if it guaranteed he would be with her again.

He had just turned twenty-six the month before. He was now being so pressured for marriage by practically everyone around him. Marriage seemed the only topic his family members felt they needed to discuss around him. His colleagues at work didn’t make matters better. Worse was his pastor had called him to his office the previous day.

Bolade had been surprised when he heard his name being announced from
the lectern as one of the people to see the presiding pastor after the service.
He was so sure the pastor wanted to discuss something about the Welfare Department to which he belonged, and was a very active member. He had been shocked, and rather embarrassed, when it turned out to be a marriage-counselling session.

He still remembered Pastor Chidi’s words. “Bro Bolade, God has blessed you
with so much already. Your career growth has been rapid, and your commitment to God is commendable. You look ready for the altar and I know many sisters admire you. What is holding you back? Isn’t God speaking?” He had said, and then added, laughing, “Or are our sisters not beautiful enough?”
Bolade had laughed, not because he really found the pastor’s joke funny but
rather out of courtesy for the sincere man who wanted the best for all his members.
How could he tell the man that his heart had space for only one woman?

How could he explain to the man that he didn’t think he would ever be able to see any other woman the way he saw this one woman.
His thoughts of her had always been with her face as it had been when they
were in secondary school. His dream had reminded him that just as he had grown
older, so would she. He didn’t have any picture of Salewa, and he really didn’t need one as he hadn’t forgotten what she looked like. But sometimes, he wished he had her picture. He wished he could look at her face for as long as he pleased without anyone to accuse him of staring.

Bolade inclined sideways and brightened his bed lamp. He checked the time.
It was a few minutes to four. He still had some time to spare before his quiet time at five. He couldn’t remember when last he had indulged himself in what he was about to do. He was going to do it and enjoy doing it.

He dimmed his bed lamp, lay face up on his bed and closed his eyes. It didn’t
take five seconds before a broad smile lit his face even in the dimly lit room.

He was sure he was going to be smiling for some precious minutes. He was going to
reminisce on how life had been with Salewa. He was going to remember.

The rhythmic and hard beats coming from his chest now drowned the sound of the ticking clock in his ears. As he drifted into thoughts, there was only one image on his mind. There was only one unspoken name on his sealed lips. He had not just fallen in love with this girl, he had fallen in love with her name.

Salewa.


To be continued

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kingphilip:
Twas an enjoyable read loaded with lessons to learn and keep tight

Thanks for sharing this wonderful piece and I hope this won't be the last of you

Lalasticlala consider this please

Thanks

CHAPTER FIVE
The ensuing days had been eventful. Chioma hadn’t been
able to tell her mother about the new developments with Bade.
Every time she wanted to, Florence had been either too tired or
too busy in her room with office files.
Every new day brought new experiences with Bade. It had
been six days since the day she kissed him. It seemed they were
progressing but at the slow pace. She had done her best to stay
away from home as often as possible, seeking reasons to be
away from him. The last time they had been alone, the previous
day, he had asked her for more than kissing. She had assented.
She couldn’t believe she was doing all that but could not think
of a way out. She dreaded the day he would ask her to go all the
way. Taking a tour of her body was debasing enough; she
couldn’t imagine allowing him go any further.
Chioma knew all of it was wrong but felt Bade’s
happiness was her responsibility. He always baited her with
questions like, ‘you would allow me if you love me’, ‘you would
let me do it if you trust me’, ‘I’ll never become a Christian if you
don’t let me. It will prove you don’t love me and God doesn’t
love me too.’
And all in the bid to speak for God, to defend herself and
her mum, and to show him love, she would give in to his
demands. But deep within, she began to feel dirty and guilty.
Her commitment to the Y4C choir waned. She wasn’t a happy
and confident girl like she had always being. She couldn’t even
look Femi in the eye again whenever they met. She couldn’t
have her quiet time again; she felt unworthy to come before
God. She didn’t know how to quench the fire she had kindled.
Chioma felt helpless but she had no idea that her worst
fear was just around the corner. She walked into the living room
when she heard the phone ring. Still standing, she picked up the
receiver. It was Femi. She felt unworthy of his friendship. She
was glad however that she still had him as a friend.
“Have you read my book?” he asked
“No. I haven’t. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I was praying for you a few minutes back
and God asked me to tell you to read it”
“You prayed for me?” Chioma couldn’t believe her ears as
tears filled her eyes.
“I always do. Now was just different. There was urgency
in God’s instruction that I had to call you immediately.
Are you okay?”
“Yes, I am”, she lied.
“Are you crying?”
“Why?” she said, trying to sound as composed as
possible.
“You’re sniffing.”
“Oh that! I have a cold” she lied again, hoping he
wouldn’t press further.
“Please be good and read the book as soon as you can,
okay?”
“I will. Thanks.”
“Hey! I nearly forgot to ask. I hope I gave you an
autographed copy.”
“Yes you did; Femi, the celebrity.” She heard him laugh
over the phone when she said that – the sound was
pleasant to her ears and she responded with a smile.
“Bye then.”
“Bye” Chioma said and dropped the receiver, glad to still
see light amidst all the seeming darkness around her. She
turned only to see Bade staring at her with arms crossed.
“Who was that?” he snarled.
“A friend”, she said, irritated at his possessiveness.
“You think I’m so dumb not to know it was Femi. Why were you
talking with him?”
“I thought we agreed I could still have him as a friend.”
“Okay then, I’m changing the rules. You don’t talk to Femi
again”
“That is impossible.” She was visibly shaking. “Get that into your
head, Bade. I won’t stop talking with Femi. Leave me alone; I’m
sick and tired of your childish pouting.”
Spontaneously, Bade hit her across the face so hard she
fell against the phone stand and ended up on the rug. She was
too shocked to speak; tears spilled out of her eyes. Bade was
surprised at himself and dropped to his knees, apologizing. He
touched her face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart”
She didn’t stop crying and didn’t jerk her face away from his
touch either. “You hit me”
“I’m sorry. I’m so scared of losing you. I get very angry
whenever I feel you drifting away from me”, he said, tears filing
his own eyes.
“What else do you want me to do to prove to you that you have
me?” she said amidst sobs.
He wiped her face with his hand and touched her face
tenderly, in a futile bid to ease the throbbing caused by his slap.
“There’s one more thing that you would do that would
leave me with no doubts about your commitment to me. I’ll
never doubt you again if you do this, I promise.” As he said that
he remembered D-one’s words ‘when you have sex with a girl,
she’ll become yours and won’t ever leave you.’
Chioma feared that the moment she had dreaded the
most had come. “And what might that be?” she asked.
“You know what I want Chioma, I don’t have to spell it all out. It
would assure me that you will never leave me. We would
become inseparable; amalgamated.”
Bade had said it at last. She couldn’t believe they had gotten to
this point. She couldn’t contain her anger and frustration. “You
must be out of your mind”, she said and ran to her room,
locking the door behind her.
She needed to think things through. Except a miracle
occurred, she knew she would still give in to him. She didn’t
want to accept the fact, but the truth remained that her giving
her body to Bade so far had made her more vulnerable to him.
They hadn’t had sex yet but the desires had been kindled. She
knew they were sinful desires. He had prematurely awoken a
human passion in her. She knew she would eventually cave in.
As usual, she knew that in no more than an hour, he
would come knocking on her door, and this time to have what
she had hoped would be for her husband. She desperately
hoped Femi was praying for her. ‘Mum, where are you when I
need you the most? Please come home.’ It was 7pm and it would
still be at least two hours before her mother was home while
she was at most, one hour from losing her virginity.
-------------------------
After the conversation with Chioma, Femi still felt a
burden for her. He wanted to call her and probe further and ask
if there was anyway he could help her. But as he picked the
phone to dial her, the Holy Spirit spoke to his heart and asked
him not to call her. ‘This battle is not yours, but mine to fight for
her. Pray for her.’ That was the simple instruction he received.
Right there and then, he got on his knees and began
praying for Chioma. When he had exhausted what he could ask
for her in understanding, he started praying in the Spirit,
interceding fervently for this girl he cared dearly for.
--------------------------
Still in despair, Chioma picked her pillow, intending to hug
it. As she picked it, a bright covered book caught her attention.
Femi’s book! She had forgotten her conversation with him
already. He had asked her to read the book. She picked it and
flipped through the pages. She got to a page and was drawn to
the subtitle. ‘What true love is and what it isn’t.’ She started
reading.
True love isn’t what many take it to be. It is not
just about making someone else happy at your own
expense. It is not about sex or physical intimacy. It’s
not about buying or receiving expensive gifts from
your ‘lover’. There is so much to true love that the
world is missing out on.
True love is first and foremost found in God. 1
John 4:8 says that God is love. There’s no love
outside of God. No God, no love. This reveals that
we can only show true love if we know God and
love Him. God gave up His son for us even while we
were sinners; that’s true, unconditional love.
True love is discovered in obeying God and living
like Him. If we claim to love God or others, and we
flout His rules, we’re deceiving ourselves. That’s
why it is wrong to claim to love someone and to
have sex with him/her to prove it.
Chioma couldn’t read any further. Her heart soared with both
regret and hope. ‘…it is wrong to claim to love someone and to
have sex with him/her to prove it.’ Her heart was beating faster
now. She looked back at the book.
I would discuss this a little more. Many teenage
girls have been victims of this lie. ‘If you love me,
you’ll sleep with me’ has been the bane of many.
Hey! You don’t owe anyone a proof of your love. If
he cannot wait for you, let him take a very long
hike. Don’t get worried, God would provide a better
guy for you.
Only God can make a human feel truly loved.
Guess what? Even after sleeping with you, he’ll not
trust you and would probably jilt you, still feeling
unloved. It is not your responsibility to make him
feel loved, only God, through His Spirit can do that
for any man.
‘Why didn’t I read this earlier?’, she asked herself. Further down,
she discovered that it was wrong to try to prove God’s love to a
person by compromising your stand.
It’s only the Holy Spirit that can convict a man of
sin and bring him to God. Never think you can do it
by your human strength. You have a part to play in
living a godly life that the world admires and is
attracted to. You should also pray for their
conversion and talk to them when possible, but
that’s where your work ends.
You can never love anyone more than God does.
Leave Him to do what you cannot. Remember, it is
God who will judge our love walk. Please don’t
compromise in a bid to show love. True love trusts
God to do His thing at His own time. True love isn’t
impatient or compromising.
Chioma closed the book and fell to the floor, tears of relief,
pain, and hope flowing out. ‘Father, I’m so sorry for messing up
so far, trying to substitute for you in Bade’s life. Please forgive
me, wash me clean and restore my joy. Thank you for sending
help to me when I needed it most. Thank you for people like
Femi, who pray for others. Thank you too for proving to me that
even when my mother is not there, you are always there for me.
You kept me from losing it all tonight; thank you so much
Father. I receive strength to do what I need to do now. It’s in
Jesus name I’ve prayed, Amen.’
She rose to her feet and was setting the book back when
she heard a knock on the door. Her heart flipped but she
remembered God’s word that He would be with her and would
never leave her. She was sure of His support. She also
remembered the bible verse that says she should never fear
because fear is not of God. ‘How come I haven’t remembered
God’s words through this last week and now, they are all
coming back? I guess that’s what sin does to a man – blocks you
from communing with God.’
She was going to stand her ground and refuse Bade. She
owed him nothing.
She walked to the door and opened it, expecting to see
Bade, only to see her mother. She immediately fell into
Florence’s arms and started crying again.
“I’m home honey. I’m sorry for not being around for you
this past week.” Florence Akpuru said, stroking her daughter’s
back.
“How come you’re home so early?” Chioma managed to say.
“I felt a nudging to come home and I decided the extra work
could wait till tomorrow. So, I left immediately my boss closed.”
“God is so kind”, Chioma said, beginning to sob.
“What’s wrong dear?” she said lifting her daughter’s face.
“It’s a long story mum. But God found me and you are back!”
Relief flooded Chioma’s heart and she clung to her mother, not
wanting to let go.
“Why don’t we start from the beginning dear?” Miss Akpuru
said as she led Chioma back to her bed. “I have all the time in
the world to hear you out”.

THE END


Epilogue
-Bade was reprimanded and enrolled in a Christian boarding
school, to create a gap between him and Chioma, where he
eventually received Christ as Savior.
-Chioma found her footing back with help from her mother,
Femi and the Y4C group.
-Femi and Chioma became very good friends and started dating
in their third year in the university.
-The Makun family adopted one more kid, giving Femi a baby
sister.
-The Den was shut down by the community police when they
heard about the yahoozites’ activities.


Please your comments, please!!

COMMENTS PLEASE

CHAPTER FOUR
Bade was seated far back in the church’s multipurpose
hall. It was full to capacity. Many teenagers and some parents
were in attendance. On the stage was Femi, his parents, Dr. and
Mrs. Makun, and the chief launcher, Pastor John Iweze.
Bade, in a few minutes of observing Femi began to admire
him. He was calm, collected and most remarkably humble. He
wasn’t full of himself but was quick to smile. Femi had a
confident gait. He was what all the yahoozites weren’t. No
wonder he had so many admirers and well wishers. Bade
wished he were in Femi’s shoes.
Chioma had been ushered to the front row; a seat already
reserved for her. When she was called up stage, Bade was so
proud of her. She sang gracefully. Her voice filled the hall and
everyone was transfixed. She seemed to create an atmosphere
of love, peace, hope and joy as she sang. Bade guessed it was
the effect of the prayers she had prayed but wondered if
prayers could be that potent. His mother’s prayers for healing
seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.
He took a quick scan of the audience. They were plainly
lost in worship as some sang along with Chioma. When his eyes
settled on Femi up front, he stopped cold. He saw in Femi’s eyes
what he saw in his own mother’s eyes when he won a prize in
elementary school. He saw love and admiration in its truest
form. It wasn’t the look guys in the porn film had when they saw
a mate or the look the yahoozites had when they saw a
beautiful girl. This was a pure look. It made Bade feel angry and
guilty at the same time for the mess he had gotten himself into
in the past week.
Femi was obviously lost in Chioma’s voice and in her
beauty. Bade suddenly felt jealous and couldn’t explain why. He
looked back at Chioma and saw her through Femi’s eyes. It
seemed like a veil had been pulled off his face. She looked so
beautiful in her blue skirt suit. Her dark and full hair fell against
her neck. She smiled as she sang and she was simply irresistible.
Just as he began admiring her in this way, another vile
thought started creeping through his mind. ‘Chioma looks just
like Claire’ he remembered the boy’s words and started
imagining what Chioma would look like in a more revealing
outfit. He blinked severally, bit his tongue and had to pinch
himself in a struggle to discard the thoughts – they were
unwelcome thoughts at the moment.
Bade couldn’t get them away and he finally gave-in to the
thoughts. His hands began to shake at the thought of actually
experiencing the thoughts he was harboring. He then looked at
Femi and the jealously he felt was heightened and he became
possessive. ‘Chioma is mine and I will have her to myself.’
Thoughts to justify his inordinate affection began to creep up.
‘Chioma is the only person, about my age, that seems to care
about me and spends time with me. She even said she loved me
as she would a big brother. What would happen if Femi has her
and she begins to ignore me? D-one told me the other day that
when I have sex with any girl, she’ll become mine and won’t
ever leave me. I have to keep Chioma to myself.’
Bade could hardly think of anything else but he managed
to get involved in a few activities that took place. The luncheon
was a success. A lot of money was raised and many praised
Femi’s creativity. The book was titled “True Love”. The review
was brief but the summary was that love originates from God
and only God, through His word, can teach humans how to truly
love each other. That seemed rather unrealistic to Bade but
others seemed very excited at that seemingly new revelation.
Chioma walked over towards him and they were about
leaving when Chioma heard her name. She turned to see Femi
running towards them.
“Chioma, you made my day. Thank you so much”, he said and
gave her a quick hug.
“It was my pleasure” she said.
He shifted his attention to Bade. “I’m Femi.”
“I know” Bade said, managing a polite smile. “I’m Bade. Great
work you have here”. He said honestly fingering through the
copy he had bought.
“Thanks. I’ll see you around. I have to appreciate other folks;
you were my priority.”
Chioma blushed and she nodded. Bade nodded too.
“Thanks again, Chioma”, he said and hurried off.
Bade could see the excitement in Chioma’s eyes and
wondered if he would still have a chance with her but he
decided to try anyway. I would prefer to lose the fight than not
to fight at all.
“Thanks for coming. Bade, it was very good having you around”
Chioma said, interrupting Bade’s thoughts.
“You’re welcome” he said flatly.
-------------------------------
They had just finished dinner. It was going to be about
two hours before Chioma’s mum returned home. Chioma had
rented a romantic comedy for them to watch. They both sat on
the sofa facing the TV. Bade was all too aware of Chioma’s
closeness. He had never been this conscious but the events of
the day had changed all of that. She wore shorts and her
favorite pink T-shirt.
He stole glances at her legs and wondered why he hadn’t
noticed how smooth they were. Sometimes during the movie,
Chioma leaned her head on his shoulder. It was not unusual for
her. She trusted him. It had been nothing to him before too but
now it meant the world to him. He responded by putting his
arm around her shoulder. But while Chioma took it for a
brotherly gesture, Bade hoped to get more from it.
The phone rang and Chioma stood up to get it. Bade
watched her as she walked to the phone, watching every
movement of her body, his desire mounting. She picked the
phone and sat opposite him, unwittingly giving him a better
view of her legs. It was Femi! Bade was mad and couldn’t bear
the glee he could see consume Chioma as she spoke with him.
He turned away and half-heartedly watched the movie.
A scene in the movie however caught his attention. A
leading actor, who was a big time player wanted to sleep with a
decent girl. Seeing she won’t budge, he went into self pity,
saying that nobody loved him and she too was rejecting him. In
an attempt to comfort him and make him know she cared about
him, she gave in to his desires. Bade decided he would do the
same with Chioma. He was glad she missed that part of the
movie, so she won’t know what his real intentions were.
When she was through she smiled at him on her way back
to the sofa but he looked rather sad. “What’s the matter,
Badez?” she said, poking him.
“Nobody loves me”
Chioma was perplexed. “Where is this coming from? But you
know mum does and I do too.”
“You don’t love me Chioma. If you did, you’ll prove it”
“Badez don’t be silly. I love you and would do anything to let
you know that. Name your price and I’ll do it” Chioma said, not
knowing she was asking for trouble.
Bade decided to go slow. “If you love me, you won’t be hurting
me.”
“Hurting you? I’m lost, Badez”
“You are drifting away from me.”
“Now this is getting weird”, Chioma said, shaking her head,
frustrated. “You’re being ridiculous. What do you mean?”
“You’re getting too close to Femi and shifting your attention to
him”
She smiled, relieved. “Oh that. I thought I told you we are just
friends.”
Looking rather serious, Bade looked at her. “That’s how it all
starts. You say he’s just a friend, and next thing I know, you two
will be dating.”
“Are you being jealous, Badez?”
“Yes I am” Bade said rather too loud. “I am in love with you
Chioma”
Chioma was stunned. “What?”
“I said I am in love with you. I’ve grown attached to you, loving
you more and more with each passing day. And now, you’re
about to kill me with what you’re doing to me.”
“Badez, stop your jokes!” she laughed nervously. Looking at
him, she saw he was serious. “But we are supposed to be
family.”
It wasn’t going the way Bade had expected but he couldn’t give
up now. “Yes, but we are not blood related and I have fallen
hard for you.”
Chioma was dumbfounded. This must be a cruel joke. She
had enjoyed Bade’s company in the last three weeks and hoped
they would grow closer. But thinking of him on a romantic basis
was not just in the picture at all.
“I’m sorry Badez but it can’t work. I don’t want to hurt you-”
“You already have!” he said, cutting her short. He stood to leave
the living room.
“Wait!” Chioma said. She ached for him. He had really come up
in the last three weeks that she didn’t want to see him
withdraw into his shell again, not with the new set of fellows he
was meeting regularly with. “But… do you know what you are
asking?”
Bade was impressed at his ability to play the role well. He
sincerely cared for her but he couldn’t think straight with the
hormones cruising through this body. He had to exaggerate his
feelings or do whatever else was needful to have her in bed
with him. He knew Chioma was proper and he would have to
work on her emotions through sentimental statements. “I said I
love you. Have I lied to you before?”
Chioma was beginning to lose the fight. “No” she said.
“Do you doubt me now?”
“No, I don’t. But-”
“You don’t love me?” Bade asked, his eyes filling with tears. He
was surprised at himself.
“I do. But-”
“You have so many but’s today. I want to leave your house. I’ll
die if you and Femi date while I’m here. It’s better I forget I ever
met you and your mum.”
“Badez, I didn’t mean to-”
“You don’t have to pacify me. I’m not good or smart enough for
you. Leave me to my miserable life” he said wiping at stray
tears.
Chioma was short of words. ‘Mum, I wish you were here
now.’ If her mother was around, Chioma was sure she would
have been able to handle this ugly situation. ‘Lord, I need
wisdom here. I don’t want Bade to recoil but I don’t want to lose
my head or heart wrongly instead.’ She hoped and prayed God
will show her the way somehow. “I’m sorry Badez. I promise not
to date Femi” she said and saw him ease up. She decided to
quickly add. “But can I still be friends with him?”
He nodded.
“Thanks. Come, sit down.”
“What about us?” he asked, as he lowered himself to the sofa.
“We stay as before and keep loving each other.” Chioma meant
love in a brother-sister way but knew Bade would take it to
mean romantic love. But if the statement seemed to please him
then she was fine with it. She hoped that her mum would come
home a little early to end this ordeal. She couldn’t wait to spill
the whole story to her.
They resumed their position on the sofa when after a few
minutes, Bade said something unintelligible.
“What did you say?” she said with her head on his shoulder.
“Kiss me”
She looked up at him and laughed but she saw that he
meant it. ‘This is getting crazy.’ She weighed her options. A kiss
wasn’t going to hurt. She assented and moved her face towards
his. He immediately took the lead and kissed her passionately, a
little longer than she had hoped. It all felt silly and awkward to
Chioma because the kiss meant nothing to her but there was a
look of satisfaction on his face.
Bade felt he needed to continue with the script and say
something that would justify what had just happened. “Thanks
for proving to me that you love me”
Chioma was speechless.
“I love you Chioma; please never leave me.” She nodded. “If you
ever leave me, I’ll kill myself. You have given me a reason to
live.”
His words sent chills down Chioma’s spine. ‘Where is this
leading? Can I continue this way? Do I have the strength to
refuse his requests and hurt him instead?’ It was as though he
was reading her thoughts; he bent towards her again,
demanding another kiss and she felt helpless to refuse him.
Even as she did, she couldn’t get her mind off the nagging
thoughts that filled her heart. ‘I want to love Bade like Christ
would; that’s what mum and I decided to do. But would Christ
approve of my going this far in the bid to show love?’ She
decided she would talk to her mother about it when she got
home. When Bade seemed satisfied, she rested her head on his
shoulders as they finished the movie. Chioma couldn’t
concentrate; she just stared blankly at the screen.
Chioma was however unaware that the satisfaction on
Bade’s face owed only to the fact that he felt he had kissed her
as passionately as the guy in the film kissed his co-star, Claire.
All his thoughts and actions were directed by what he had
watched many hours back in the day. He was acting what he
had watched and Chioma was the victim. That was just the
beginning.

This guy is a Unique writer, he makes everything seem real and he keeps saying it's fiction.

i can't help but to imagine and relate different personnels with this story.

kudos to you bro.

CHAPTER THREE

Three weeks went by. It had been quite clumsy initially but Chioma and Bade had started bonding. Bade was a happier boy. He still had mood swings when the thoughts of his late mother weighed him down but things had started looking up for him.

Florence Akpuru was preparing for her company’s annual general meeting. She had being home late and tired everyday.

Chioma was left with most of the household chores, and it was quite tedious.

Washing dishes early in the morning, Chioma looked over her shoulders at her mum who was taking a hurried breakfast.

“Mum, school would begin this time next week”. Understanding what her daughter was trying to say, Florence nodded.

“The AGM would have been over then and I would be back to help with the chores. I’m sorry we haven’t had time to talk in the past week.”

“That’s what I’ve missed the most”, Chioma said frankly.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know you will”

Clearing up her dishes, she dropped them in the dish washer and gave her daughter a side hug.

“I love you” Chioma smiled back. “I love you too, mum”

Florence was about to leave the kitchen when she remembered. “And, thanks for taking care of Bade. I’m proud of you”.

“It’s been fun mum” she said, wondering whether or not it was a good time to talk about her recent concerns about Bade. She dismissed the thought.

“I hope to catch up on some of the gist next week when I’m less busy.”

“You sure will. Have a beautiful day, mum.”

“I will. Be good”, Miss Akpuru said as she made her way out of the house.

After doing the dishes, Chioma had a bath, took herb breakfast and sat on the sofa to read her favourite story website - www.dopepopz.com. Not too long after, Bade walked in. “Hello sister!” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Hi brother! What are you up to this morning?”

“Nothing to be worried about. Just want to see my buddies down the street.” He noticed the expression on her face and smiled. “They are nice guys. I wouldn’t have given them a second thought if I didn’t think they were”

“I just don’t like their way of life and I don’t want you joining them.”

Bade studied Chioma for a while, and then said, “I promise I won’t let them have a negative influence on me. I just need to be around some lively guys not some bunch of boring Christian folks that you move with.”

She frowned. “Guess you take me for a boring girl too, then?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. Let’s just say I want to have some wild-safe fun, okay?”

“Just be careful”

“I will. See you later in the day.”

“Won’t you even eat breakfast; I made some sandwich for you.”

“Nah, thanks. We already have breakfast figured out. Some chicken and chips”

“Really?”

“Yep. I have to go now. See you soon” he said walking away from her in a Lakers jersey, a Tommy jean that was half way down his behind, and a new Timberland boot.

Chioma’s heart sank at what Bade was gradually becoming but she was grateful he hadn’t pierced his ear or done anything stupid yet. She knew her mother would have known what to do if not for her very busy schedule. She bent her head and said a prayer for her new friend and brother, and continued reading her story.

-----------------------------

Bade felt both elated and scared at the same time. Elated that he was fast joining the popular guys but scared at the direction his life could turn. Chioma’s words kept coming to his mind as he made his way to ‘The Den’.

‘The Den’ was a fairly large garage where a couple of teenagers met to party, drink, and hook up with girls for sex.

They called themselves ‘Yahoozites’. Visitors were allowed to come have fun but to become a yahoozite involved some more commitments that Bade wasn’t ready for. All he wanted was to have to good time.

He had been invited to The Den a week ago by a neighbour next door who met him while he was dumping refuse outside the gate. He hadn’t picked a stick or bottle yet but had made many friends in the past week. He only wondered how long he would last before giving-in to the pressure he was faced with.

He had met a few girls that caught his attention; some had actually made passes at him. ‘What am I doing to myself; fraternizing with this kind of people?’ Somewhere deep within, he respected and admired Chioma’s circle of friends; the love, care, simplicity and modesty that characterized them was irresistible. Yet, a part of him felt he would be missing out on life if he went that way.

Getting to The Den, he nearly turned back. There was a very obscene atmosphere in the garage. He walked in and saw couples together in different corners looking at the big TV screen. He found a spot near a guy who was alone and watched.

The film had just started and he saw the title; “A long night”. He wondered what direction the movie director intended to take.

Possibly a suspense-filled night of murder or theft or something similar, he thought.

He looked round and saw that all eyes were fixed on the screen. Couples weren’t doing anything improper; they were just cuddled up and engrossed in what was about to show on the life-size plasma screen TV. Bade had always wondered how the yahoozites got so much money to equip The Den and afford all the parties they organized. He assumed the yahoozites had rich parents.

He took a look at the far end and saw the leader of the yahoozites; Dayo, known as D-one, with two girls. There was a smug expression on his face as he awaited the film to begin. Just then Bade felt like running out. He was sure D-one would have already watched the film before playing it in The Den, and a film that would interest D-one was definitely not going to be good.

He was about to stand when he heard loud hooting from guys and girls alike. He followed their gaze to the TV screen and what he saw took his breath away. And at that moment, he knew his life would never remain the same again.

------------------

Chioma was about taking a nap when she heard the door shut. She guessed Bade was back from his time with his new found friends. She wanted to go out of her room to tell him lunch was ready but decided he would be able to help himself out if he was hungry. With that, she closed her eyes and slept.

Shutting the door, Bade couldn’t stop the rush of hormones in his body. He could feel himself shaking. For the past two hours, he had experienced the most emotionally draining time of his life. It had been so draining because the good and the bad in him had been fighting, and he was in between. The film shown at The Den was a pornographic film; not soft porn but hard porn. He had wanted to leave but he just couldn't get up. For two good hours, he had seen, heard and imagined so much that his entire being had been consumed with lust and passion. Before the film even ended, couples had helped each other out to satisfying the appetite they had whet.

He had no partner and was already nauseated with so much perversion that he couldn’t wait to get out. But before he could leave, the boy sitting next to him told him something that was even more disturbing.

He had said ‘you know Chioma looks like Claire. You saw how good Claire was right? I’m sure Chioma would be sweeter in bed.’ With that, Bade got up and left the garage and decided never to go back to The Den, but not before the seeds of lust had been sown in his heart.

He tried to push the sights of the film and the words of the boy out of his mind but it was impossible. Walking back to the house, he kept remembering the scenes he had watched and at unguarded moments, imagined Chioma doing the same with him.

He was both relieved and glad that Chioma was nowhere in sight when he entered. He couldn’t stand seeing her with what he had just done. Guilt was eating him up. Moreover, he couldn’t trust himself with her anymore. He remembered that some days back, Chioma and her friends had discussed on how to overcome lust. He had been so cynical and judgmental that he had gone to his room. Now, he wished he had heard them.

He really wanted to get the thoughts out and the feelings removed but he had no power to do so. He recalled them saying only God, by the Holy Spirit could help, but he didn’t understand how God could help or how he was even supposed to ask for help in the first place.
Bade decided to handle it himself. ‘It would go with time.

I’m sure I can handle this.’ After a few minutes, he was settled and decided to sleep. After about three hours, he was woken up by hunger pangs. It was then he realized he hadn’t eaten. The yahoozites had been too preoccupied with the movie they wanted to watch that they had not made food available.

He made his way to the kitchen and saw that Chioma had made food. At the thought of Chioma, his heart beat quickened.

‘What on earth is this about?’ Focusing on his food, he ate, enjoying every bit of the meal. As soon as he was done, he washed his plate, put it in the dish drainer and headed for the living room. He put on the TV and watched NBA. His team, the Lakers, was playing against Chicago Bulls. He was glad to have a distraction.

Barely five minutes into the game, he heard footsteps and knew it was Chioma. She walked in and sat next to him. “How’s the game going, Badez?”

“Great” he replied without looking at her. Chioma had started calling him Badez one day at dinner and the name had stuck; he liked it.

“How was your time out with your buddies?”

“It was fun” he said. She was wearing her perfume and was all dressed; he wondered where she was going.

“Everything okay? You don’t look too pleased to see me.”

‘Only if you knew what is going on in my mind.’ He thought. But to pacify her, he smiled and said, “I’m good and seeing you is always a pleasure. Thanks for asking.”

“Anyway, I thought I could invite you for a luncheon. I was invited to sing there.”

“What is being launched?”

“A book”

“And who is launching this book?”

“Femi Makun. He’s such a talented writer.” She placed her hand on his.

“You need to meet him”. It was an ordinary touch as they had had before, but it affected Bade differently this time.

She was so close, Bade wanted to pull her close and … but he controlled himself.

“I suppose he is” Chioma wondered if it was jealousy or a complex she read in Bade’s words and expressions. “Why the attitude?”

“You like him, right?” he said, ignoring her question.

Chioma blushed. “I guess I do, I’m not sure. We’re just friends and I’m just getting to know him.”

“He invited you to sing?”

“Yes, he did”, she said, smiling.

Pushing the warring feelings aside, he decided to be nice and be a good friend.

“I bet you’ll be the highlight of the luncheon. I hope you don’t steal the day from him” he teased.
Chioma was obviously relieved.

“You really scared me with your being uptight. I sure won’t steal the attention. Thanks Badez. It’s for 2pm; I want to rehearse my lines”.

“What song are you singing?”

“Jesus, giver of all good things”

“I’ve heard you sing that twice already. Why are you singing that again?”

“Femi specifically requested that I sing it”

“Okay then. But do you have to rehearse again; you should be use to it. Sit with me and watch TV till it’s time to leave.”

“I can’t.” she said as patted Bade’s hand and rose to leave.

“The more I practice, the better I get. If I want to be a remarkable singer, I’ve got to rehearse more than ordinary singers would deem necessary. And do you know what I was doing in the last one hour?”

“What?” Bade asked, wondering.

“I was praying; asking that the song would be a blessing to those who listen”. He was too amused to respond. “Please be ready in an hour’s time”. She said and walked to her room, leaving Bade to sort out all his conflicting thoughts.

CHAPTER TWO

‘What was that on her face when I walked in?’ Bade was taken aback by the warm and broad smile Chioma used to usher him in. He was both surprised and embarrassed. He couldn’t deny that he had almost wanted to stay and just watch her smile; her smile was beautiful. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed that earlier.

While still musing over Chioma’s sudden and unexpected pleasant attitude, he heard a knock. It was Miss Akpuru. She came in and looked impressed at what she saw. “You’ve done a pretty good job on this room.”

“Thanks. Mum taught me”

“Really?” she asked, happy that Bade had mentioned his mother for the first time in her presence since her death.

“Yeah, she taught me how to decorate a room and make it cozy with affordable things”

“She must be proud of you”

Bade nodded and lowered his head but not before Florence saw tears fill his eyes. “Come here”, she said and extended her arms to him. He reluctantly did but gradually eased into the embrace and sobbed quietly.

“It’s going to be okay, Bade. God will take good care of you, and we’ll do our best too.” She assured him.

When he was comforted, he wiped his tears and pulled back from her embrace. “Thanks; I’ve needed that for a long time now”, he said rather shyly.

“I’ve wanted to since you came but I guessed you needed time to sort things out.” She patted his shoulder, smiled, and then added “we would like to speak with you” Bade looked up confused.

“Who’s ‘we’?” His mind raced and he thought he had been betrayed and handed over to a welfare organization. How would I ever cope in a teenage orphanage? He looked at Florence with fear in his eyes, and she understood what his fear was.

“Easy boy, it’s just me and Chioma. We want to have a family kind of chat with you, is that okay with you?”

He heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t even know he had been holding his breath until he exhaled. “That’s fine, thanks!”

“You’re welcome”

She led the way, and joined Chioma who was sitting on the rug, watching TV. Florence started up the conversation as soon as they were seated. “Bade, we want you to feel a part of this family. You’re like a son to me, and a big brother to Chioma…”

Bade felt nervous with all the attention on him in the little living room, and stole a quick glance at Chioma when her mother mentioned the ‘big brother’ part. He saw a combination of amusement and mischief on her face. He couldn’t help letting loose a smile. He noticed he had been distracted, smiling at Chioma’s expression and tried to catch up on what Florence was saying. “… or have you felt neglected so far?” she had asked as he recovered from his sidetracked thoughts.

“No”

“Then, I hope we’ll be able to become family”, she pressed.

“I hope so too” he said, optimistic but still doubtful.

“Chioma, do you have anything to say?” Miss Akpuru asked, facing her daughter.

“It would be my pleasure for us to become close and be like family, Bade”, she said smiling at him and in turn smiling at her mother. Florence smiled back, and with years of experience, she knew what her mother’s smile meant – thank you!

Chioma sounded so confident and intelligent all at once that Bade had suddenly felt insecure and intimidated but the moment she smiled, his fears were allayed and he knew she did not despise him in anyway. Florence rose, signaling the end of the family tête-à-tête, praying silently and desperately that things would work out fine.

----------------------------------

“Dad, I have a huge crush on Chioma Akpuru.”

“Uh-uh”

“Every time I hear her sing in church, I get lost in her voice”

“Is that all, son?” Dr. Makun asked, keeping his eyes on his fishing pole.

“No dad” he smiled shyly, looking at his now sweaty palms.

“She’s pretty, sweet, and very intelligent. I’ve never met a girl as pleasant as she is”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Femi?” Knowing his dad, he knew what was missing.

“She loves God and is passionate about Him too”.

“Now, we’re talking, and do you know what, son?”

“What?”

“I’m proud of you”

“Thanks dad.” Femi said, delighted to hear that.

As a psychologist, Dr. Shola Makun had learnt the power of affirmation before counsel. “I’m glad you know what counts when you say you admire someone. But there’s still something you need to know.”

“I’m listening”

“The best things in life don’t always come when we want them to. We often have to be patient like…” At that, there was a sudden thug at the string. They both stood as Dr. Makun pulled in the line to see their catch.

“Wow!” Femi exclaimed.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” his dad said, almost out of breath.

“Really is! This is the largest fish I’ve seen us catch since we started fishing here last summer. I had wondered if there was potential in this lake at all.”

After unhooking the fish, Shola Makun looked his son in the eye. “I believe God planned that as a sign of affirmation to the lesson I was teaching you. Patience helps you get the best out of circumstances. Take your time with Chioma, son. There’s no rush; none at all.”

Femi was disappointed but knew that his dad was right.

“Thanks dad. But it’s really hard, I confess. I don’t want to lose her to some fast guy.”

“I understand your plight boy,” he said and tousled his son’s hair

“but you’ll learn with time that love is indeed patient like the bible says.”

“So, what should I do now?” He sounded desperate.

“Build friendship; be real with her – no trying to impress her.”

“I’ll try dad and if I get stuck, I’ll let you know.”

“It’ll be my pleasure to help you”

“Thanks dad. I love you”

“I love you too” Dr Makun replied but couldn’t shake away the guilt he felt that he never followed the counsel his own father gave him when he was in secondary school. Looking at Femi, he said “Son, I have a confession to make!”

Femi looked perplexed. What on earth did his father have to confess, but looking at his father, he knew he really had something to let out. “I’m listening, dad”

“What I’m about to tell you is a secret that only your mum and I know about.”

“Are you sure you want to add me to the list, dad?” Femi asked, rather frightened. Dr. Makun seemed pensive a while and finally said, “Yes. Your mum and I had decided that we would tell you someday, and I guess this is the best time to”

“If you say so, dad.” Femi conceded.

They stacked the fish in the basket and sat back down. “I wasn’t close to my parents. My mother died prematurely in a car wreck, leaving my dad to fend for their seven children alone.

My father was so busy trying to make ends meet after her demise that he hardly spoke a word to us except when it came to paying our school fees and miscellaneous bills.

“I lived quite wild; partied and had many girlfriends. I once even dated three girls on the same night. I was good at it”

a sad smile curved his lips. “It was in one of my partying sprees that I met your mum.”

“Mum!” Femi felt like he had been slapped on the face.

“You’re surprised, right?”

“It’s hard to believe”, Femi said still trying so hard to imagine his mother in a club house or a similar setting. It just didn’t fit.

“Yes son, I know. We gave our lives to Christ one year after we met but not before we messed things up.”

“You… I mean, did you…?”

“Yes, we did. We weren’t Christians then, okay? Sleeping with your girlfriend was no issue in our circles then. But around that time, it also happened that papa, as we often called my father, was very sick and he called me into his room one day. It was so strange to be called into his room for a talk that I couldn’t even look him in the face through the monologue”

“You mean he talked all the way?”

“Yes. I couldn’t even get a word to come out of my mouth.

Moreover, he was instructing me on many things, he really did not need any comment from me. And can you guess what his last instruction was to me?”

“That you should marry mum?”

“No, it wasn’t – nice try.” Shola Makun looked into the lake, reliving the day again. “He told me never to cover up a sin by committing another. He asked me to own up to my sins, repent of them, and not try to make them disappear by committing more. I listened to him but I couldn’t make much sense of the instruction at that time until something happened that redefined my life.”

“What was that, dad?” Femi asked both curious and afraid of what he might hear.

“Your mum got pregnant.” Femi was too dazed to ask any questions. He just listened. “So, I just recommended an abortion as quickly as I had to my many other girlfriends, but as I did, the words of my father kept eating at me. ‘…never cover up a sin by committing another…’ but I was too stupid and selfish then to heed.”

“So, mum aborted?”

“Yes she did.” Shola Makun felt the pain freshly cruise through his body. He could barely breath, remembering the day.

“It must have been awful for her” Femi said with tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yes it was but that wasn’t the worst part. There is a part that made me regret my decision with a passion… the abortion was poorly done and your mum’s womb was damaged.”

Dr. Makun couldn’t bear to talk anymore and Femi wasn’t ready for more bad news. Silence hung in between them for a couple of minutes. Then, as light begin to dawn on Femi; he looked up at his dad, with tears streaming down his face. “So, how did I come about?”

“We prayed so hard for a kid afterwards. We had accepted Christ and married shortly after. We trusted God but eventually, we discovered that it was a problem we would have to deal with for the rest of our lives, so we-”

“You adopted me?” Femi couldn’t even believe he had just said the words. The tears now came flowing faster as he turned away from his father and sobbed.

Dr. Makun knew better than to begin with any apologies immediately. Instead, he reached out and pulled Femi into his embrace, crying himself. They stayed cuddled for some minutes before Dr. Makun broke the silence. “We have loved you since we held you in our hands. You were just two months when you became ours.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Femi said in-between sobs that seemed would never end.

“We’re sorry son. We wanted to tell you when we were sure you knew we loved you as our own son. We didn’t want the information to create doubts in your heart about how we feel about you.”

“Are you sure I have no doubts now?” Femi asked, through his tears.

Shola Makun stroked his son’s hair as he gave space for the question to take root in both their hearts. “Even if you have doubts son, I’m convinced that the love we share as family will kill the doubts easily. And for the record, Femi, your mother and I love you so much and couldn’t have asked for a better child.”

Still stroking Femi’s hair, he added, “We still wish every now and then that we didn’t abort our child. We still imagine how beautiful he or she would have been. We calculate how old our child would have been. We still wish we hadn’t and regret the decision we made but anytime we remember you, we thank God that in His great mercies He comforted us with the best child we could have ever asked for.”

Another moment of silence passed. “Did mummy know you were going to tell me this today?”

“Yes she did. She said she couldn’t bear to see the pain and hurt she would see in your eyes when you found out. We’re sorry, son but we hope you understand.”

“I do, dad but it would take some time to get used to the fact.”

“I know but please know that we’re still family.”

“Thanks dad. I still love you so much”

“I’ve always loved you and always will, and so does your mum.

Now, do you understand what I said about patience with
Chioma?”

“Yes dad. But whatever the case, I still can’t wait to see her
again tomorrow; I’m still in love”

“I bet you are” Dr. Makun said and pulled his son in for one
more hug and silently committed Femi’s feelings for Chioma
into God’s hands.

INVITATION You are all Welcome D9ty7, Tiffanyj, helenbee, teebashy, fatalveli, Divepen, Ali1king, kingphilip, onemansquad, tecno4life, bluestarry, jefferyjamez, slap1, supermartin, ishilove, jeanfortune, vibra, almacherich, marynneka, trusted, Shadowbean Abimbawealth, emarkson, jhimmy, UnknownT, laykorn, kenwins, iceberylin, Ollyfad, AnnbabyHot, debonairprinx, rondo235, MzNelly, Champele, Meel unique27, MrsGoodness, Lionize, MhizTemmie, AlienStar, Theorbiter, Ionprince, Susrite, Glowstone, bigwig97, Missmossy, ruffhandu, may3 Tomkhalifa52, okeyfineboy, kechywillz, folake25, tescoleps, teamplayey, ethereal, unlimitedbosco, PrinceGozie, Yudeeaikay, pelontus, justicesky24, mariamferanmi, qloreal, onosj, Rahma26, Kayleb37, Mutaino7, lawrenzo007, Tobilastik, yettielicious, eunisam, Athanatos, usmanspihn, hassan85, princesa, kiddyking, moshood1993, handmaid, missterious, kingphilip, kenwins, SexySapphire, Princesschi, Niwdog, Suspect33, Visionaire, Bunsky, laykorn, emitheo, alabig, marioking, elhafeez, OlufemiWhit, hassan85, davefieldpop, Ridens, sade1, Jayson4a Rahma26, Jeez2, ritzeluv, romzey pryd, sentaljohn, marcusagrippa, sommyqueen, omah1, adegwurulez, missstella, olusegunbob, scopiicaar, Flowtry, simiolu1, Crownfullhouse, tescoleps, alleazardous, whalesbanks, dare0834, Olasultan, stillchris, Bowaley17, dokilolo, teamplayey, Omolsdare, Calmdove, eremy, alizenbohr, atilla, tsodjete, folake25, ritababe, ruffhandu, mozele, Sprintson, trevolady, teemanbastos, ruffhandu, Demlad99, Cestmoi1, sammyomotola, kingphilip, simonhabby, tfabu, Elparaiso,Tandullceblog, Hameenat94, martin98, kenwins, Emmyk, urchbarbie, princesa, Divepen, obumsway, kusibe77, Twaci, viktohmarkz, Activity77, VigorousV, nnapo, Beesluv, edogho, keeper1, ogrin12, curvyschlong, anasbeaut, ncChigo, hottadiva, janeso, olashas, grandx88, joliematt, dodobytes, scribespad, kodylicky, lajaja, kenwins, suxxman, babie78, elemagoon, henryozil, hillsnite, Thermythorpe, goldenone, donephi, Kedam, DrJulian, stalicia, awwal339, typompy234, Skimpledawg, Kennedymac, RotrEmmanuel, sweetstuff20, eagleeye2, OLADO, festwiz, kingzpen,Seun, Lenmafon, kajemjay, hayoronke, temitopedaniel, amenbaby, dopevick, Abbey2580, nisotzoe, haibeehae, wemmieslim, Sheanoel, marioking, lordgalore, Ikeano92, chuks000, monatim, Omololamide, olarafiat, JigsawKillah, xtremelygifted, godsonchikelue, Georgry, Kflorencek, Xtarxhyne, Onyi42, ayomi23, Rounakid, Olusharp, Silkmoth33, harmlessphil, mariamferanmi, ninja4life, Jennimma, whisper2esi, unilever, Babe2sure,bookhy, kingphilip, Chrisx1x, adeniyi00, Skyfornia, Darus05, Flakkydagirl, Ggee, MuniratAbolanl, Zeinymira, OVI75, Sirdy48, bayulll01, Anelk50, missterious, Chibueze90, Diamondamsel, MosesIgb, Fantasywrita, boladex1, Abuklaw, Omortolah, snowprince07, Kingso23, Bertadayz, Timothy3113, BestInDeeWorld, mattiechris, tunb, soulminister, ProfDee26, Hammenat24, Bloomingbud, seunviju, TiffanyJ, moseph, wizkris, Epaul, ProfDee26, babyboom, Inyanga, Grace, Ezeh, olarafiat, Komzzy1, candy, Odward, uchebest2006, Babyjoker, PrinceAdepoju,Suspect33, NeuroBoss, jaki006, light57,jubileesmith,stuff56, onemansquad, ritababe, selinabrown, icebrylin, tecno4life, ogbarmey, adeh37, adewealth027, fatalveli, repogirl, tiffanyj, koolwilly, standd, davidflo, onihaxy, emzypaz, oma4u, stuff56, dastancypayne, Niftyrules, Bluestarry, ishilove, hfinest, iphekitan,

CHAPTER ONE

Walking through the garden, Bade hardly noticed the scenic beauty he had always taken time to admire anytime he
was in the Olive Resort. Tears blurred his vision as he absentmindedly
bent over to pluck a flower along his path. He put the
flower to his nose and the sweet smell brought with it more
memories. The tears stung his eyes some more and forced their
way down in a steady flow.

It was one week since his mother died of breast cancer.
The week had seemed like a long, painful, never-ending year to
Bade. He had cried every night. Putting the flower to his nose
again, he remembered a moment, the previous year, when he
had come to the park with his mother. They had lain on the
damp grass with Bade resting his head on his mother’s chest.
Fourteen years of age at that time, he was still his mother’s
baby. They always spent time together.

In school, he was called all kinds of derogatory names.
The school’s tabloid, which made it a duty to gossip about
students’ private lives, had even done an article on Bade when
he turned thirteen. It was titled “Bade still mummy’s baby at
thirteen”. The article featured a picture of Bade crying in his
mother’s arms in the school playground the day he broke his leg
in a soccer match. He didn’t mind however because he loved his
mother, was close to her and had no apologies about it.

That day, a year ago, at the park, he had excused himself
to use the gents. On his way back, he had plucked the same
type of flower he was holding at the moment and given it to his
mother. He could still remember every bit of the ensuing
minutes.

His mother had taken the flower and smelled it. She kept
it close to her nose and closed her eyes for such a long time that
Bade had been agitated. Lowering her hand and opening her
eyes, her eyes glistered with tears. Fighting them back, she
stretched out her hands to Bade and he eased himself into her
embrace: it was so natural for them. She held on to him for a
while and then whispered into his ears. ‘The last time someone
gave me a flower was about fifteen years ago. Thank you dear. I
love you’ she had said.

She then pulled back and wiped her tears. That was a year
ago but it seemed like yesterday to Bade. He knew it would
have been his father that gave his mother the flower. He died
when Bade was three months in his mother’s womb.

Thinking back at that day, he was glad he had made his mother happy. He only wished she had stayed. ‘Did you have to
go, mum?’ He looked up; expecting an answer, any answer, but
nothing came.

He had attempted suicide twice in the last week but had
not been successful. Living without his mother was punishment
– simply unbearable. His life had been tied to her for the fifteen
years of his existence. They had talked, laughed and cried
together since he knew himself. Life was indeed crazy and God
was definitely very cruel and heartless to have tormented him
this much. That was his conclusion.

Human beings were not any better as far as he was
concerned. All those he had expected to rally round him were
nowhere near. He had been disappointed by the turnout at his
mother’s burial. Family and few friends were around but
seemed rather in a hurry to leave. He had wanted to scream,

‘Don’t you people care that this woman loved you and worked out her life for you! Is this the best you can do?’ The words never got out of his mouth though.

Mrs. Thomas, Bade’s mother, was a committed member of the Strait Gate Assembly. She served in the welfare department and was the backbone of the department. She was always visiting folks in the hospital, prison, and in their homes depending on the situation. She was a selfless Christian, mother and friend.

Bade remembered the day his mother missed his soccer match and he was mad at her. That was the first time she had disappointed him. When he got home, he saw a note she had written to him.

Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I disappointed you. I heard Amina was ill and I had to attend to her because her family is out of town. I hate to hurt you but you know I always teach you to love all as Christ would; that’s what I’m doing. Would be home at 8pm tonight and would take you out to Tantalizers – just you and I. I love you. Mum

That was just one of the many sacrifices his mother made for people. When she was diagnosed with cancer, one of the few things she was bothered about was that there’ll be many needy people without anyone who’ll care for them when she was gone.

How could humans be so callous? There were still few good ones however, he conceded. He had been living with Miss Akpuru, one of his mother’s friends for the past one week. She was one of the few who he knew really appreciated his late mother. She had taken him in immediately his mother passed on but her show of love was like a drop in the ocean compared to what he had enjoyed with his mother.

There had been only one highlight so far in the week, but not strong enough to keep him indoors. Miss Florence Akpuru, his present hostess, had a beautiful daughter, Chioma: Chioma Akpuru.

Bade had exchanged pleasantries with Chioma at different times but their conversations had been rather succinct. He had excused himself over and again from the house so as to spend quiet moments alone. He did not have close friends to visit with; his mum had been his world. He had dreamt on different nights about his mother, basking in the euphoria, only to wake up to the reality that he was never going to see her again.

He put the flower aside and considered his options. His previous attempts at suicide had been futile. He could use a knife to cut himself but quickly discarded it; he wasn’t use to physical pain. His mum had never beaten him. Another option was to take an overdose of valium but he worried about what the side effects would be if he didn’t die eventually. I don’t know how it’ll happen but I know I’ll kill myself somehow.

---------------------

Chioma was tidying her room when her mother came in.

“Still sorting things out?”

“Yes mum. I would want to have a decent and organized room when school resumes next month. I know I won’t have much time to clear up often then.”

Florence sat on the bed and watched as her only daughter worked through her wardrobe. Chioma was fourteen. She could not help admiring her daughter. She looked more beautiful with every passing day. Florence noticed Chioma was developing an impressive figure. She was proud of her but worried-sick at the same time. She hoped her daughter would turn out better then she did at that age.

She had gotten pregnant with Chioma at age seventeen and her parents, very religious people, had insisted she have the baby. Unfortunately, she did not know who owned the baby because she had lived on the edge. Many boys had a field day with her; she was as good as public property. Now thirty-two, and still a single mother, she hoped and prayed her daughter would turn out far better than she did.

Florence Akpuru gave her life to Christ in her first year in college. Then, Chioma was three years and attending daycare.

She finished her part-time college programme and earned a diploma in secretarial studies, which qualified her for the job she had. She had risen through the ranks in Micropost Ltd and was now the secretary to the CEO.

Her growth in Christ, on the other hand, had been slow but steady. She was now firmly rooted in him and so was her daughter, Chioma. Florence was in charge of the ‘Y4C’, Youths for Christ, interdenominational youth group of which Chioma was an active member. She had noticed a couple of well meaning guys stealing glances at her daughter and some out rightly staring but it seemed Chioma never noticed.

She had sat Chioma down and talked about it one rainy Saturday. Florence had learnt, by personal experience and via years of counseling teenagers, never to make assumptions.

During the tête-à-tête, she discovered that Chioma was aware of her pull on guys and mentioned the names of some guys who had asked her out. But Chioma told her mother that she wasn’t going to get involved with anybody yet and gave her reasons. It was that day that she decided she could trust her daughter’s emotions. Chioma seemed to know what she was doing.

In her own words, she had said ‘Mum, frankly speaking, the pressure is much. But I have God, you, my books and the Y4C choir to be bothered about. I cannot afford any unnecessary distractions right now. I can take care of myself without any guy’s help.’ Florence had been so impressed with Chioma that day. But there was something else on Florence’s mind this time.

“Chioma”

“Yes mum”, she replied while folding her blue camisole.

“Do you remember what we learnt at the Y4C camp last month?”

“We learnt so many things, mum” she smiled.

“Oh…” Florence got the message. That was something else Miss Akpuru loved about her daughter. She was always so specific when talking and expected others to be; a sign of intelligence.

“I’m referring to the Thursday night when we had the bonfire, remember?”

“Yeah! We talked about being instruments of God’s love to those around us who feel no one cares or understands them.”

“Honey”, she said to catch Chioma’s attention, and patted the bed. Chioma took the cue, dropped what she was folding and sat next to her mother. Florence wrapped her arm around her daughter’s waist and Chioma rested her head on her shoulder.

“I think there’s someone God wants you to show love to”, she said slowly and deliberately.

“And who might that be, mum?”

“Bade”

Chioma immediately raised her head and looked at her mother. The expression on her face showed she was serious.

“But we’ve hardly spoken to each other in the past few days. I don’t see that being feasible. He seems unreachable – so unresponsive.”

“That’s my point. He’s hurting badly. It would be your responsibility to break through his shell and reach out to him”

Thinking a while, Chioma said, “Why are you asking me to do this? You are better at this than I am.”

A smile curved Florence’s lips. “I was once as naïve in helping and encouraging people but I started from somewhere. I started someday and I guess you’ll have to start somewhere and someday too.”

“Then, I am not ready now, and obviously not starting with someone that looks like he’s tired of living – not Bade Thomas.”

Understanding dawn on Florence and she could imagine how Chioma felt. Bade had hardly eaten in the few days he had spent with them. He said very little and was in the room prepared for him most of the time when he was indoors.

Otherwise, he was out of the house. It could be so hard loving someone that didn’t seem to need or appreciate your love. But that was what Christ did and He expects the same from His children. He expects us to love the unlovable.

Florence stroked her daughter’s hair. “I would have taken up the responsibility but I have to begin preparing for the company’s AGM from tomorrow and I’ll be so occupied with typing letters and stacking files.”

“Like last year when you became an absentee mother?” Chioma said, smiling.

“Exactly”

“I would try my best, mum but I’m making no promises.”

“That would do because I know my sweetie has what this young man needs to get his life back.”

“Thanks mum. I appreciate the compliment. I trust God to help me.” In affirming her daughter’s statement, Florence squeezed Chioma’s hand gently. Little did they know that things were not going to work out as they had hoped.